[x]

She wanted to be worn.
Worn down, lovingly,
In the way that can only be
Accomplished over eons of use,
In the manner of his favourite blazer.
Worn till the elbows are shiny.
She didn't want to be worn out,
But rather, worn over,
Like a worrying stone kept
In close reach, in the lefthand pocket
Caressed when needed.
And like the natural erosion -
Stone smoothed by rushing river -
She wanted him to be as constant:
As unceasingly adoring and indifferent.
She was vexed by her own mutability.
Her kitelike flitting -
Fearing she'd fly
Before his hands and words
Had fully bound her;
Before he could discover her pockets
And butto

This is usI want to hear your spine
Click-and-lock
Into place next to mine

As we're lying together on this bed, I want to hear you whisper my name
And tell me that you cannot count my eyelashes
Because you cannot think of enough reasons
As to why you love me

I like the fact this is bare
It's honest and truthful

Yet sordid and dirty

Like us.

We'll talk for hours about has-beens and will-do's
And we'll hold hands against the skyline, as I have the urge to
lick salt from your body
to taste your tears that you never seem to cry.

I like that you are simple. Yet it infuriates my deepest feelings
There is little here but honesty and I'm begi

Summer of '06Summer of '06
Treacle-reduced air,
thickly-clogged static hair,
beam-loosened tempers,
radiation, aching strokes,
half-choked sniffs,
noses caught red
as they run, lazy fun –

Rampant hayfever,
fading sweat-marks
on phone receivers,
howl out a 'CHOO
with the wolves, seeking
the cool peace of Moon,
suffering at barely noon…

Disarmed tongues
wandering like lost dogs;
we all pant for
some fresh breeze,
some release of water
to briefly ease, then
exacerbate the wild heat…

Lover season;
no wind movement,
so what better reason
to lay us down and
get stuck together,
tracing sweaty paths –
lingerie and sheets unneeded…

Flu

Memoirs of a Southern BelleMa always says I was a precocious child.
My first word, for example, was not in the normal baby vernacular. Ma was reading a racy novel at the edge of my crib, and apparently, I pointed at it and said, "bok!"
"Ma," "pa," or "ba" would have done, I suppose, because it caused an uproar. I had spoken faster than any other baby on our street. To top it all off it sounded more like a proper word than anything anyone else's baby had said. There was a frenzy. We have home videos of the time documenting it all. I was the Freak Show Kid. Ma called Harvard in secret to talk about early entrance forms. Pa and his friends talked about exorcis

Always There

ALWAYS THERE

Gas prices are climbing
Higher and higher
And we're living in a world
Connected only by machines and wires

Sometimes it can get lonely
When there's no one there
Sometimes it can get lonely
When it seems no one cares

Where there once were rolling fields of grass
There now are towers of concrete and glass
And it seems there's no time to relax
With everyone going so fast

But wherever you may be
Whenever you're lost in darkness and fear
Or in sorrow and despair
Any time you open your eyes
I'm always there

Where there once was snow on the mountaintop
There now are satellites
To control guns and bombs

And where the

OdysseyOdyssey

The sands of time do drift,
Taking away the make-up of the days.
There is no stopping nature,
And the wind only blows one way.
No traveller can deviate,
All roads lead to Rome.
But the path though unfamiliar,
Leads the way to home.

Before the time is up,
And the closing of the gate.
Many immortalise their names,
On this journey all must take.
Although the sands blow strong,
Wind-weathered forever read.
Space still for future travellers,
On their way to death.

"Fired"

Martin Lanham hadn't moved from his armchair all afternoon. He sat, gazing miserably out the window at the rain that pattered absently on the city's shoulders. Once every-so-often he would build up the motivation to sigh out a portion of the misfortunes that had been bestowed upon him since he woke up this morning. His hands rested in his lap and a thin mop of hair sat ruffled on his forehead, subtly suggesting that he was far beyond the point of disgruntled, and was veering close to a state commonly referred to as 'depression'.

Martin had worked for the SmallBalls Ball-Bearing Corporation for twenty-three years as a quality cont

Don't Say a Word—Don't Say a Word—

He spreads her mouth open.
"Nice teeth."
"Notice the little imperfections. We've also filed the teeth blunt; she couldn't hurt you even if she wanted to, sir."
She blinks. His hand jerks back.
"Jesus! That looked real!"
"Technically, she's fully functional. You just saw her blink away a tear. We've kept the wiring to an absolute minimum, but since we cannot fully anticipate the demands posed by our clients, we've tried to provide as full a range of functionality as we could. For instance, we simulate all bodily fluids."
"All of them?" he asks with a smirk.
"Feel for yourself, sir."
He slips his hand under the sheet

I don't want to be That Girl,
alone, in a corner, covered in dust,
crying over milk not just spilt
but gone sour.
I want to be the girl
who knows how to Move On,
that you don't see Passing You By
until I'm a silhouette on the horizon,
hips swaying confidently
like autumn leaves dancing in the wind.

Midnight Motorcycle Ride

Vibrations underneath me,
and playing beats on my eardrums-
wind in my face
is bringing pocket scents of sage.
Your warm body in front of me-
my hands rest loose on your legs,
my head on the back of your neck
as I watch the passing fields.

Our moon-washed shadows ride beside us-
two people so close together
they appear as one body,
yet still can be separated
by a discerning eye.

This is when I love you most.
The silence forced upon us
by noise and violent wind,
allows us to speak without sound.
With a nod, or chin-toss
to one side or the other,
we see through each other's hearts,
without the false meanings
our words can c

A hymn to The SunO burning sun, I love thee in thy way
Thou bringst beauties out to thy light of day.
Just as thou bringst blooms from thy pregnant earth,
So thou sow'st the crop reaped in women's worth
As promenading venuses display
What would obscure, but for thy light of day.

Death is a Soviet Ballerina

Rehearsal. Dance, and maybe bow.
(and how!) Entrance the sycophants.
Universal trance demands romance-

subsequent shroud that deflects
the crowd genuflects arrogant nod
to God. (Defiantly. Disquietly.)

Membranes are broken. My black-wrapped
legs, distract some pain unspoken
thrown to dregs, notions of broken powder kegs.

Soviet source of choreographed terminus
"Exterminus? So be it," laughed coarse
and hoarse contorting marionette.

Regret?

The Quick Six

Fuk

No, it doesn't count,
you see? Because it's F-U-K,
with out the C.

Hairy Carrie

No one took her out to eat
No one ever saved a seat
No one brought her to the mall
So she chose to end it all.

Three Times Fast

Getting pneumonoultra-
microscopicsilico-
volcanoconiosis.
Somethings are easier
done than said.

Elpoep

They sleep during the day
they work when they should play
they can't see in the light
backwards people ain't quite right.

Tumor Tim

Meet this little boy
his name is Tumor Tim.
He hasn't really got one
but we like to humor him.

Dumb Haiku

This is a haiku
I have written it for you.
God this haiku suc

wishes 11-18

i am without words.

this skin i am in
is wearing thin like
a balloon on a nail.

a deflated balloon.
a rusty nail.

i am not good with words
but this feeling stings
caustic, and deep.

i just want to fall out of grace,
dance openly out of the line,
and twirl into you.

i want to sit on rooftops
barefoot
and contemplate the rain.

i will no longer tiptoe.

To my familyWhere ever I am
where ever I go
I never walk alone.
Your picture is
always in my soul.
A picture of coming home.

You are my shelter in the storm,
you are my lighthouse in the night.
Your laughter and your voices so warm,
drive away the fear and fright.

Whenever I dream
whatever I feel
I never dream alone.
You tear down the walls
around my soul.
Those walls of slid stone.

You are my shelter in the storm,
you are my haven in the hail
Your smiles and your hearts so warm
keep me going even when I fail.

Where ever you are,
where ever you go,
I'll always be with you.
You are always
deep in my soul
whatever I think and do.

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Eeyore

by `wordlesswhisper, Sep 16, 2003, 6:35:54 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Everyone thinks I'm sad,
Everyone thinks I'm blue,
But I've got nothing
On Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh.
Someone take him zoloft,
Or a little hit of speed.
Eeyore needs some Redbull,
Or at least a little weed.

Eeyoreby `wordlesswhisper

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2003-2013 `wordlesswhisper

Just a poem I'm writing while having a conversation about Winnie the Pooh.

~~love 0 0~~

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

Mood: Disgust

~pretty-ordrinary Feb 13, 2009 Student Artisan Crafter

That's rude.... I think drugs ar for idiots. Eeyore is a smart character. He doesn't need anything, Especially whatever you were hitting to write this.

Reply

`wordlesswhisper Feb 13, 2009

Awww, you're cute. Just like I was when I wrote this, let's see...6 years ago.

Reply

Mood: Grouchy

~pretty-ordrinary Feb 14, 2009 Student Artisan Crafter

oh, I'm sorry. and how old are you now?

Reply

`wordlesswhisper Feb 14, 2009

22, as it says on my main page.

Reply

!XxLightsoffxX Nov 3, 2008

I love Eeyore
like the poem btw

Reply

Mood: Anger

~SippyCup1 May 23, 2008

THAT WAS RUDE ANDD MEAN!!!!!!

Reply

~Pentical Aug 23, 2006

LOL! heheheh. nice.

Reply

~inureyes Jan 27, 2005

thats great. really awesome. and quite funny.

Reply

`amolerouth Jan 8, 2005 Professional Artisan Crafter

That's absolutely golden. XD

Reply

`wordlesswhisper Jan 8, 2005

Thanks!

Reply

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