Hello again! I just posted about Flowers for Algernon literally (and in this case literally actually makes sense) thirty seconds ago.
I thought I ought to post a few poems I wrote one day. I'm in a very minimalist mood these days (these days meaning the sort of 'days' that spans over a few months), and that might rub off on my poetry.
Also, as a warning, I write short stories more than I write poetry, and that might be evident in my atrocious attempt at poetrizing.
(It's a word. I stand to argue.)
So without further ado, here are some of my blind ramblings trying to sound poetic.
(I am not centering them because I hate centering poems. It's ugly.)
Ugh I've read over them and it just seems like I pressed enter in between extremely repetitive and completely in-cohesive run-on sentences. I apologize.
soft whispers
The wind whispers in my ear
something inaudible about
marshmallows over the fire or
a leaf crying for help
or the heavy heart dangling around
my neck.
The wind whispers a song
so soft and so subtle like
a cotton ball against my cheek.
the rustling song of tears
on my neck, the sleeve used to wipe
the strains of my muscles away.
The wind whispers in my ear
something soft, but something important about
a life to be saved, perhaps to be lived or
its voice is gone though; I will never know
what song it whispered
to my shell
still life of a tuesday
Every Tuesday afternoon I see
a line of seatbelts clanging
against the metal framework of the chairs.
There is no one there and no one,
as far as I know,
who shares my last stop.
The clanging echoes against the blank
walls of the bus and
all that is left to observe is
the line of seatbelts clanging
against the metal framework of the chairs.
I’m sorry
You make jokes and smile
every single day and you
talk so brightly but I hear you crying
at night.
I’m scared
You laugh because it’s
What you do; you smile because
It’s what you do; you joke
Because you always do it but
What are the red marks on your legs
And arms when
You come home?
Untitled
(Yeah I just did that.)
She looks at me with fearful eyes
And knows I must not know;
She knows that everything inside
Must remain as so
Even if it kills her to try.
The eyes are dry but so
Is the smile that anoints her
Weakening face.