Broadcasting Sound
poetry and such nonsenseour reunion
So today I went to the beach today and I said something along these lines:
our toes
There is something
that is so interesting about
how our feet
can feel
the difference
between
coarse sand
and
fine sand.
At school
here I am at school! Ahhh… I finished my First draft of my Novel….. So now it’s all written out! Can’t wait to edit!!!!!
Adrianne Oglesby!!!!!
Oh my goodness! Seth is married!!! And I have a sister!
Ode to Adrianne
Oh Adrianne Schmidt
You and Seth joined by Gods burning flame,
I know that he loves you
and that you love him
so may your marriage be
fruitful
and loving
and pure!
We will send our love to you
and you love each other much more than the same!
Uncanny
uncanny |ˌənˈkanē|
adjective ( -nier , -niest )
strange or mysterious, esp. in an unsettling way : an uncanny feeling that she was being watched.
Uncanny
i had this feeling deep inside
So strong I wrought to have the thing away
but it would not leave only bide
I did not want it
this uneasy feeling
but it would not leave only stay
Well Well Well
Hey Hey hey I got another poem for you
It was always the same
That sneering
The same type of thing
But then one day it changed
We had something in common
Whether he believed it or not
It was different this time
It was natural,
Just saying hi
The friend way
We aren’t friends
But now I think he understands,
That the reason I put up with it is clear.
It was different that time
It was almost like respect
And I pray that we might
Keep that something in common
So that maybe one day
He will be led in the right direction
By me or someone else
It’s all the same sooner or later.
DRESS
By the way… I found the dress I am going to wear for my brothers wedding! So excited!!
MPWLLT
I am adding more from last night.
Untruthful Portrait
The mirror draws a portrait of your face.
It could make a mistake,
a blemish.
Like a mother putting on your makeup,
preparing for a first date.
If mirror wished,
he could be wicked,
he could deceive.
But mirror is truthful,
breaking you delicately,
for the truth is a hard thing.
But he cannot make you cry,
he cannot make you live you life right.
You can only change yourself,
from the inside then out.
March
March skips in,
laughinf and singing,
but what a temper,
soon he will erupt.
With one word of discontent.
But then march turns to scorn
jeering, and laughing.
March plays hide and seek
skipping in and out of spring.
March will try not to leave
he will cry to you,
to let him stay.
“Oh march, oh march.
youmust go away,
for dearest old April will soon be huffing on her way.”
“Oh March, oh March,
where have you gone?
Just disappeared,
I suppose it won’t really be that long.”
Wind
Wind walks in,
as a timid deer,
kneeling at the stream,
rippling the water as it drinks.
In the wood,
low to the ground,
it grazes.
But a twig cracks,
and up it flares,
senses alerted.
High up iit flees,
out of the wood
and faster than the ocean
Way way up high
wind climbs the cliff
it stands there and laughs
proud and defiant
and as an eagle soars
up in the sky
wind disappears.
Corduroy Fall
Corduroy is like Autumn,
rolling like a gentle hill from summer to winter,
But denim is like summer,
blazing the same through and through.
Corduroy is like a camel,
the humps on it’s back movie as you walk.
While denim is like a snake,
slithering smooth and straight.
Corduroy is like a maple,
sprouting and changing through every season
But denim is like a birch tree,
tall and lean, but fading and falling apart in the fall.
MPWLLT
Many Poems Written in a Long Length of Time
regretting the rejected
I passed it down
and I went home
I swear you could hear my thoughts
like I were standing in a whispering dome
The only thing I saw was that frown
plastered on your face
nights and nights i recklessly fought
trying so hard not to leave a trace
but i couldn’t do it
I couldn’t face it down
I am the bone that my dog bit
It that I didn’t do
I will always regre.
Sorrow
From under the bed
the woman pulls
an old oak trunk
thick with design and memory
her lamented children sit beside her,
their clothes forded carefully within
the blankets
and
stuffed animals
she reches in,
and pulls out
each thing
one by one
looking at
remembering,
putting it away into her mind
and
deep into her heart.
the tears creep to her lashes,
they spill down her cheeks.
Memories, like poorly sopped up milk,
stay on the table
wating to be seen.
She kisses each one tenderly
as the last faded memories of her children
pass through her hand,
and into a paper sack.
loaded into his trunk
along with the trunk
tipped on it’s side
their debt must be paid.
well I will add more I have many at least 7 but it is late and to sleep I must go.
new sky
new sky
Magic eye
can see what will happen
on a train reck stop!
always changing
forever rearranging
new sky
everyday,
contemplating
two more
two more months till june!! So in honor, I will write a little poem. HAHA.
Two more
Two more chips
Two more sips
Two more months
and time flies by
Two more hours
Two more laughs
there is no depth to this feeling.
