Caught up
It’s important to not get
Caught up.
Hook line and sinker
To pink fleshy cheeks.
It’s barbed and bleeding
But the taste of red
Less feared
Than removing the barb.
It’s important to not get
Caught up.
Tangled in wires
Slinking from the ceiling
Limbs moan from the ache
The burn of freedom.
But the electric current pulses
In wires
And moves you.
It’s important to not get
Caught up.
Strangled by words
The last time they fooled you
A quarter to never.
Lodged in your throat
Catapulted to paper
It’s easy to forget
Who we are.
It’s important to not get
Caught up.
- 2 weeks ago
Name Celebrate Poetry
Location New YorkApril is National Poetry Month, and Alfred A. Knopf and Tumblr are joining forces to celebrate in style. Follow this Tumblr for a stream of verse from new voices in the Tumblr community as well as established writers. Submit your own poems for a chance to be featured, or join us at Housing Works Bookstore Cafe on April 23rd to meet up and hear readings by U.S. Poet Laureate Philip Levine and other amazing poets. And don’t forget to check out the brand-new Poetry Spotlight for new poetry blogs to follow!
Also check out…
Made with Paper
Tumblr is the modern-day notebook. FiftyThree created Paper so you can post sketches, diagrams and more to it.Coverjunkie
Celebrates creative magazine covers you wanna link and their ace designers.Digithoughts
A pile of thoughts, links, pictures, and stats on mobile, gadgets, business, the web and more.
Ooo!!
- 1 month ago
- 1766
i fell to my knees
and outstretched my palms to the clouds.
filled with thoughts that maybe
they could feel my vibrations
and knees to grass
would connect me
in some real way
to that which is untouchable.
i began to mutter words
to the heavens
letting my thoughts be lifted by the winds
high hopes of some celestial
cosmic reunion
of my heart
and that which needed to
hear the beat.
i put my hands to the green blades
but the ground felt cold
lifeless.
the blame was something to call my own.
the disconnect,
my fault.
i pushed my palms off the soil
raised my knees.
an unbent, but broken form
walked away
as words hung in the air.
- 1 month ago
a curtsy,
a bow.
a modern hand extended outward
finds a soft position on the small of my back.
your whiskers,
grown soft from days of endless music
and not enough sleep-
graze the side of my face
until your forehead meets mine.
we step backward,
now right,
i watch the tube of colored lights
almost as much as it watches us.
and the candle flame dances solo.
foot on top of foot
back, right, back, left.
i’ve forgotten what song is singing
but your laugh -
puts motion
to awkward limbs.
and the broken clock sticks at 1:28
failing to keep time,
to square routine.
so we’ll dance squares
around its frozen time
and never have to ask
for our moments back.
- 1 month ago
The Winner’s Circle
a pain so deep it scrapes at the marrow of my bones. leaving my hollow frame, frail; unable to stand upright.
cant you hear me screaming your name?
- 5 months ago
- 1
