Tainted clam chowder
Abiding this class by the hour
Feels like I’ve been here for days.
I’m crumpled and sour, grumpy and dour,
Waiting to break out of the haze
Your braid is too long, a deadened kind of blonde,
I wonder if the split ends clog your brain.
But that fringy mop you sport up top could never detract from your “fish out of water” claims.
Voice like a dying cat in the night,
Birds startle and then take flight
Trying so hard to switch on the light,
A riveting anecdote. Again.
Your lectures land like a gecko running over sand: nothing sinks in.
Looking over your metaphorical shoulder
Into a sea of letdown students now and past,
I only hope your tenure lasts,
As you’re not getting by on talent.
I should send this to the school instead of a review for this particular professor. She’s truly the pits.
I need a subject, and I’m choosing you.
First thing I see, strapped tightly to me, you follow wherever I go.
Humble and loyal, you tread on the soil, keeping me safe from harm
Today a snowy hue, tomorrow a scarlet red,
Once you were blue, and not a nice shade, no,
Just blue as veins on an unexpected summer’s day.
I’m still sorry about that phase.
This was meant to go up almost a week ago. I’ve been having trouble staying motivated, as I get down on myself sometimes, especially with lack of feedback. I start to lose energy. But I want to get back on track with my schedule (I’ve been trying to post MWF) and not put so much pressure on myself. I enjoy writing just for my own sake, and I shouldn’t rely on what others say to do something I love. Especially considering this poem is about my shoes and it’s not that greaaaaat, but I’m okay with that. Thanks for reading my posts, those that do. Love for you! Sorry this turned into a diary entry. Ooops.
I want to fall asleep in the sun
Full of warmth and comfort
Impeded by no one
I want to feel the breeze on my skin
Surrounded by flowers,
Pollen-headed bees tumble lazily in.
I want to watch their slow dance,
Entranced by their diligence, their inability to wear pants,
And on the tops of their silly-heads
Two little antennae bumble about
Looking around for the next bloom to sniff out
(Do bumblebees have noses?)
There are questions I suppose(s) that will abound,
Human nature itself is sort of tumbling around.
And in grief, I think, we know this,
Though when that familiar friend leaves for the summer
We pretend not to notice
He was never there.
Without a care, I lie among the roses,
Prick my fingers on the thorns
I will never pick them.
I watch the bumblebees tumble around
There is no point,
Most of the time.
Even when life is lovely, I can’t always
Who’s the winner?
Maybe winter, in its deathly state.
Who, but a season cloaked in mortality can put a value on life.
What joy, though, must the flowers feel
What relief as petals thaw
And breath is drawn at last.
My teeth scrape across my glasses
They prickle against my cheeks
I squint and I sigh but I try not to cry as they poke the inside of my eyelids
What a horrible sight to see!
A girl with such teeth like me!
In the wrong place, upside of my face, where fluttering lashes should be!
Winking is so very painful.
Sleeping is always a gamble
Butterfly kisses? Don’t get me started.
I tried it once, now he’s dearly departed,
And all that is left here is me
This is a completely silly poem I wrote to prove a point to someone. I thought you guys would get a kick out of it
Balance among the storm clouds
Walk along the seams
Wander through the silhouettes,
Watch water turn to steam.
I’ll follow you up there, feelings liquid in my mouth,
Knowing, full well, that they’ll never let me out.