Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.
The Birds, The Bees, and How They Settled
I guess I'm alive if that's what you'd call it
i've been waiting to set free the wish in my pocket
so, so long dirt road
i'll see you 'round
the valley, it beckons the wind as it blows
all the spiders are going to bed with the crows
'cause they settled for naught
let their own webs hold them down
this crazy mountain air must get to me
i know you're never there but you're all i see
if wishes could be, i'd happily believe
that this breeze would bring you back to me
i guess i'm creative if that's what you'd call it
i've been trying to find a guitar pick to pocket
so hello
aching fingertips
the salt water beckons the wind as it blows
all the ladybugs going to bed with the gulls
'cause they settled for wings
instead of lips
this crazy ocean air must get to me
i know you're never there but you're all i see
if wishes could be, i'd happily believe
that this breeze would bring you back to me
you're so far away
from the mountains to the bay
but i'd walk all day...
yes i settled and that's what we'll call it
i was far too ready, if we're being honest
i'm not settling
so long seagulls and crows.
Comments
emogothgirl
Fri, 2011-12-30 16:12
thanks
the wording is kinda one of those inside joke things except it goes deeper than that. but i love that hidden message stuff!
thanks!
Nordic cloud
Mon, 2012-01-09 04:15
Great potential this poem
Great potential this poem I love the way you have juxtaposed the outdoors and nature with the indoors and objects there, there's a rhythm that's like dancing a personal rock and roll, crish crashing, alternately tied up and let loose. I must study this a bit longer to possibly suggest things
If the word taught could be on the line after naught it might work.
LuvAnn of Norway.
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
wesley snow
Tue, 2012-01-10 18:35
Oddly,
the inside joke thing is what I thought of while reading. Things were going on that we were not meant to be privy to. I also think some of it is a little wordy, but not so much that it hampered the poem.
Kinda sad, when ya get down to it.
wesley
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about
emogothgirl
Tue, 2012-01-10 20:43
but everyone was privy to it, you know?
they should try to mathematically prove that rumors spread faster in a small town than anywhere else, lol. a small town is a dangerous place to have secrets, and when there's nothing to do but get in trouble, you're gonna have some secrets ;)
thanks,
mag
loved
Mon, 2012-01-16 05:19
You have caught
The '''EAGLES EYES... OF POETS...
Glad for you...
If you message me the realities
Perhaps i could help resolve
The turmoil poets face,
To relieve all tension,
That mostly women make,
Of their ill-choosing,
As the men only bask,
In the sun
And bake out of a hot oven
And
move on remorseless
To another similar haven...
Women then recall life
Like autumn leaves,
Trampled by the winds of rapid time
Lost in the dust of mental imagination
And
Then in place of a smile,
They spend weeping their while.
loved
emogothgirl
Mon, 2012-01-16 12:32
too true, i'm afraid
i've noticed a mistake that people keep making -- girl or guy -- in this little town of mine; and perhaps everywhere else as well. people tend to settle for whatever they can get when they assume they will get nothing. i settled, and most everyone i know has one time or another, too. all this poem does is describe how people convince themselves that if they kiss the frog just one more time, it WILL become a prince. unfortunately, they are most likely wrong.
thanks,
mag