Tag Archives: money

Flown The Coop

Do you ever feel like maybe you need to slow down? To stop and feel the sunlight and remember the way it feels to be a person? Take a look outside and remember the way the rain feels. Go outside and feel yourself in the puddles and leaves. Remember.

Rainy Day

It’s been a while since I’ve seen the rain.

Not so much looked at it,

but a long time since I really saw the way it hits the grass

and the way it always wets my shoes last.

I haven’t sat in the rain,

watching as it falls

and thinking of all the other times.

So many other times.

I haven’t walked in time with waves of water

crashing up against the buildings

and the concrete.

I haven’t been protected by a tree,

o’ great men that stand upon the earth,

feeling warmth amidst the mist around me.

I’ll sit here staring out the window

with nothing to do

and finding that when morning comes,

I find myself

in every drop of dew.

Love One, Love Lost

Morning, friends! Have a poem today that should hopefully evoke powerful feelings and forgotten memories. It does that for me, rereading it the once or twice that I have since its writing. This one means a lot. Please enjoy.

This Was A Home Once

This was a home once,

where haggard hands caressed tired thighs

and heavy lids covered tired eyes.

I still remember the feeling of the last time

when i held you into the morning.

Like we always do,

we forgot the time again.

I still remember kissing there,

where our lips touched so sweetly

as if to make the world melt away

like butter on the softest, warmest piece of bread.

I remember the bites

and the “I love you”s,

the ones you’ll never remember.

Those memories branded upon my gray matter,

their brilliant, beautiful marks

searing into my flesh.

I remember little dogs and fireflies

passing by the whites of our eyes

like the perfect porcelain of your skin.

I am but a man of stone and dirt,

trite in the face of such a sight,

your beauty and your grace

and those little blue eyes at the top of your face.

A woman of fire and gemstone,

alabaster and ivory;

how could I hope to fill your heart of gold

when I am but granite in the cold?

Wake Up! It’s Feeding Time!

Morning, everybody! Getting back into the groove after still feeling a little out of it. The poem today is one I think you’ll enjoy: a rhyming scheme, dark undertones, hopelessness, etc. I wrote it last night for no particular reason. Please enjoy.

Cavern

Under the soil

where men have toiled

something… roils,

sheathed in oil.

The black beast from the depths

comes to wake you from undeath,

and find the man who once swore

never a harm to a loved one’s door.

Failed did he

and suffer must we

for trespasses done

and battles not won.

His love once known across the sea

and carried upon the backs of bees,

now crippled and withered,

cut to pieces

by quite the scissor.

These sands now hear only buzzards.

Salted earth, like briny waves,

binds a man to dank, dark caves.

His mind in irons

and heart a siren’s,

he longs to see the sky again.

Searching, Finding

I’d like to say I’m looking. It’d be nice to see the end of the line, the light in the end of the tunnel, but no, I find that I am simply existing and unsure of which direction to go if I even go at all. Any ideas? Please enjoy the poem, friends.

White Whale

A burning sea

and smoky sky.

Cleansed by fire

and ash and lye.

No boats,

no masters.

On the open ocean now,

only hope you’ll move faster.

It’s coming, you see.

That thing you sail away from.

It always seeks and always finds

those who feel but numb

in a world that often blurs the lines.

Not hunting,

but being hunted.

There is no hope

to fight back,

only ways to clean with soap.

The time and place is never, nowhere.

Feeling Sick But Doing Fine

Good morning, everyone! The poem today is one of my favorites from the past couple weeks. The way it comes together is like a forlorn love letter, brimming with nostalgia and pain. It twisted my heart to write it. I only hope it helps you feel too. Without further ado, I bring to you…

Munchausens – An Eleven Letter Word

Do your eyes grace the pages

that fill beneath my pen,

every inkblot a kiss,

every stroke a love letter,

just for you, my dear?

~

Does your mind wander

on over to me

where I fill your head

with lovely and sweet things,

always bringing back

my amnesiac?

~

Alas, my love,

these starry eyes,

in all their seeming candor,

bely that feeling most unkind.

~

And then you see

these tired eyes

and their bags of lies

Filled all to the brim with flies.

~

To feel rotten inside,

a feeling most sour

and nigh unfairly dour,

it eats at the psyche,

the ego its bread

and the id its cheese.

~

It makes a man unwholly holy,

and perhaps leaves him feeling wholly unholy

with but a sprinkling of that reminder

of being wholly unwhole.