They’re close.
Voices loud and fierce,
Slapping faces with words.
A scream …
A cry …
They’re getting closer.
Did I lock the door?
It’s too late to check.
They’re coming.
I barely move, barely breathe.
Perhaps they’ll go away.
But they’re getting closer.
The door slams against the wall.
My eyes squeeze shut.
This curtain is not a shield.
They’re here.
They’ve come for me.
I freeze.
Metal rings clank together.
My barrier is cast aside.
Wearily, I look.
Reddened eyes glower at one another …
But not at me.
I wonder.
A moment of silence …
Water streams down my face.
Steam rolls around my flesh.
I glare at the intruders
And slide the curtain between us.
I wait.
He shrieks,
“She took my glow stick!”
She howls,
“No, I didn’t!”
I scowl.
“Go tell your father about it.”
They leave.
I inhale the lavender mist.
Slather bubbles over my skin.
Five more minutes …
And, next time,
I shall lock the door.
Tags: humor poetry family children poem meditation
I could go on all night, Lake. I could go on and on and on about all the reasons I’m in love with you. And you know what? Some of them are the things that life has thrown our way. I do love you because you’re the only other person I know who understands my situation. I do love you because both of us know what it’s like to lose your mom and your dad. I do love you because you’re raising your little brother, just like I am. I love you because of what you went through with your mother.
I love you because of what we went through with your mother. I love the way you love Kel. I love the way you love Caulder. And I love the way I love Kel. So I’m not about to apologize for loving all these things about you, no matter the reasons or the circumstances behind them. And no, I don’t need days, or weeks, or months to think about why I love you. It’s an easy answer for me. I love you because of you. Because of every single thing about you.
Tags: love poem inspirational-love
What is this thing you call substance abuse?
All I wanna do is forget and get loose.
Drinking and smoking over and over
What's so great about a life that's sober?
There's nothing cool about being young
When the monsters of night have stolen the sun.
I'm tired of searching for words in the sky.
All I wanna do is drink and die.
Nothing is real. It's all a big lie.
All I wanna do is drink and die.
There's nothing cool about being young
When the monsters of night have stolen the sun.
Tags: death poem drinking die song alcohol smoking teens young creative monster smoke
I'm a peasant
I'm the muzhik
A pest you're destined to play the music
And yes it's pleasant to say it's beauty I'm
Indebted to rest respecting it truly
Tags: art love music poetry beauty peace creativity poem admiration creation lyrics poverty song respect destiny peasant praise songs humble comfort pleasant relaxation relief credit rest songwriting worker low-life response indebted muzhik pest
There was a young man who said though, it seems that I know that I know, but what I would like to see is the I that knows me when I know that I know that I know.
Alan W. WattsTags: poem
I know you can't wash in the same river even once
I know the river will bring new lights that you will not see
I know we live slightly longer than a horse and not nearly as long as a crow
I know this has troubled people before and will trouble those after me
I know all this has been said a thousand times before and will be said after me
I didn't know I like the sky
cloudy or clear
the blue vault that Andrei watched on his back on the battlefield at Borodino
...
The children walk away from me, flick flickety off at a tangent between thin blotched beech trunks, then turn like yo-yos at the end of their strings and come back to me" from the poem "In a BishopsWood Clearing
Jay WoodmanTags: poetry children poem woods
grappling with some small understanding of this place, this time, we're in" my poem "In a BishopsWood Clearing
Jay WoodmanTags: children poem understanding woods
Green and living jewels drip into my eyes" from the poem "All Green and Living Things" in the book "Terra Affirmative
Jay WoodmanTags: living poem green jay-woodman terra-affirmative
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.
.
Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.
Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancolía.
.
Me gustas cuando callas y estás como distante.
Y estás como quejándote, mariposa en arrullo.
Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
Déjame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.
.
Déjame que te hable también con tu silencio
claro como una lámpara, simple como un anillo.
Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.
Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.
.
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente.
Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.
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