“You” – Promote Yourself

I noticed you
Not only because you were tall
But because you are charming
I had a crush on you
Not only because of your voice
But because you are modest
I liked you
Not only because of your talents
But because you are kind
I like-liked you
Not only because of your smile
But because you made me smile.
And now
I love you
Not only because of the time we spent on talking
But because of all the things that we’ve  been through, together.

“November”

There’s something about November,
There’s something about winter.
There’s something about 6am,
And there’s something with
That feeling I could clearly remember.
It could be the whisper of the cold winds,
Or the almost silent and faint air.
Or could it be the midnight morning ambiance,
With the streets so still,
The tired lights,
The dark and calm sky,
The sleeping guards.
I am not able to point my finger on the exact reason.
I could have missed out on some things.
But I’m certain on one thing,
There’s something about November,
There’s something about winter.
There’s something about 6am,
And there’s something with
That feeling I could clearly remember.

“Growing up”

So is this natural?
It is, right?
It’s natural to question a lot of things right?
So many uncleared doubts, mysteries, surprises
Is age really just a concept made by human?
And is the ranking too?
Infant, baby, child, teenager, adult
More like yes
It seems so
I mean, theres a pattern with teenagers
I’m a teenager
Torn in between
A lot to explore
But a lot of restrictions as well
Thats the common issue of teenagehood
So then, I’ll return to the concept of time
If  it wasnt there

If  we had no age

If we had no rank

Would it have been easier?

Hey there! I saw your post about poem database so I thought of sharing some of my lost-but-now-found poems. I hope you like them! Your feedback would really be appreciated. Thank you and have a great day! 🙂

Claire Padilla

The Wayside – Promote Yourself

 

I saw the moon full and bold

Walking early before it was light

A golden hue it threw off as

Clouds drifted by

I detected their dark against waning night

Was that a face, are you watching?

I couldn’t help but think

The man in the moon’s not a child’s tale

As he turned his head, looking around at me

Really

Perception of the early hours, how interesting, so free

A straggler car to interrupt, but no traffic yet

Snow dotted here and there now gone

Landscaped in greens, sculpted rocks and trees

 

I look up again, is he watching me still?

But by our favorite witch-dramas we’ve seen

Orangey-autumn sky surrounding him

Lending a film of gold as the sky lightens

Has significance to those who can read it

I can’t recall, was it an omen, trouble coming?

There isn’t  blood viscously

I’ll not worry at all

 

I look back once more as I walked on by

I thought “hello moon”, then “morning moon”

But for you what’s right, for me I’ve just risen

I should say good night

But the moon doesn’t sleep; it doesn’t care

What’s going on here for that matter where

That expression doesn’t change

Never shows the darkness, always keeps a glow

As phases begin, now waning in space

But the man, he smiled at me!

Well what do you know.

margaret prezioso-frye

Our Lives Mirrored

We all have lives, –

this cannot be argued

no matter the girth or the slight

however, the notoriety or discretion,

each idiosyncratic measure of

who we are

can only be truly defined

internally.

~

But, you knew that already,

that’s why last night downtown with the boys,

you made an ass of yourself,

went up to her and told her you thought,

she was a slut,

because just minutes later

you wagered with your inebriations

that you could score with the rudest commentary.

Why she smiled,

it turned you on,

you glanced back at your problems

hinting a forward motion.

When you looked back in her eyes,

her delight just made you swoon,

forgetting about that initial commentary

now recognizing she really is pure elegance…

~

Damned if she didn’t give you her number,

even I sitting nearby was disturbed by that.

You walked away smug,

she joined her girlfriend and you physically disappeared in her mind,

even though you could still see she was

maintaining her sort of human condition in the crowd.

The boys, the posse, the conquest moved

to the other tavern

where the sure thing had been told.

you crammed the napkin with her number in your tight jeans,

and forgot about her for the rest of the night,

because along came Jenni, Sarah, Michelle, and anon …

~

Laundry day,

sorting out pockets

where when unfolding the napkin,

Jill’s name appeared in a scrawl.

It took you a minute or two to recall

who she was.

Who she was.

Who she really was!

Then you dialed the number

to reach a disconnection,

blew her off and called her a ‘bitch’

for giving you the wrong number.

~

A few days later,

while stepping off the train

to go to work,

your normal morning routine,

there was a delay,

a procession of sorts,

they were all sort of familiar,

each wearing the same veils,

another typical gathering that occurred

nearby your building, in that park,

where families grieved,

never any reason to bear notice.

Though today

you wanted to glance further,

there was a familiar elegance,

that couldn’t really be defined,

some energy, that asked you,

refine your arrogance

just this one time.

~

Turns out she did give you the wrong number

a purposeful gesture for a woman protecting herself

from the constant barrage of harassment,

yet tonight when she went home,

she couldn’t get the word out of her head,

too mindful of four years earlier in college,

when the hot breath of that stranger

impelled her world forever,

leaving her cold and barren,

she knew tonight with your clarity,

she could never really let go.

~

Today there appeared so much love in that gathering.

~

© Thom Amundsen

http://thinkingoutloudagain.com

 

Crying is Beautiful – Promote Yourself

 

Cry girl, let it all out for now

It won’t change your life or make it new 

Cry girl, your face will move, unable to hold in the pain, the world will know 

Cry girl, your judges are everywhere but your soul can’t control what hurts it feels

Cry girl, your pain is beautiful, it reminds us you’re human, that life is real

Cry girl, your face is beautiful, tear stained, catharsis of what lies within 

Cry girl, and cry until your voice is heard, you’re not alone, other hearts will hear 

Emily Bird

Woundstofeel.wordpress.com