Best Gry Poems

1.
they say everything here is
somewhere in the middle of the road
where names get bleached and keys forget about their doors
and there is something we should...

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Sometimes
I forget his name
there are cavities 
in love too

dark gaps 
in the cracking heart
where aching
doubt and memories 
pulsate.


© Gry W Christensen...

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I brew sunsets in teapots
I drink the dawn from a mug
and in my bicycle basket I have seduction in a jug
so now and then I...

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because so it is,
he says

ashtray's empty
and
Dolly Parton
cries
for
Jolene
spinning dizzy
in the
corner
 
in my mind
all words
leave the
paper
 
love laid to rest,
I can
recognize
the 
smell.


© Gry W Christensen


(My take on...

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In this hour 
they called it the French lace minutes 
the sound of autumn leaves falling 
unbearable to the ear 
I slip out in the...

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P S IT’S POETRY WRITE ON WRITE ON CONGRATS TO MY FELLOW POETRY SOUPERS PART 9


Many thanks to you selected poets; Of sharing your whispers...

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When In Paris
I think I see
you
lost under
some umbrella
and in my imagination

I am so lonely here
I stop on sidewalks
and let my keys
slip to the ground
with my...

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I once loved
an anchor
one of those
that sails
on skin
one of those
that has 
a rowing heart
and pelting blood
within


One of those
who blows
mussel covered
kisses
one of those
that tells
mermaids salty lies
one...

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for all that I am
is in this mirror
shifty shades
and 
shadows
fogs of breath 
on the glossy surface
and my eyes; 
tired of seeing
the traces of me 
outside...

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The last
taste of summer
was
tucked
in
my pockets

empty
mason jars
with
the
scent
of butterflies

had
lids
with
lingering
raspberry

labels
spelling
will-not-go-down-sun

ran
with
sandals
and
band-aids
to
the
end
of
a childhood.


© Gry W Christensen...

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some things
are too obvious
for
a
mirror
to bother with

eyelash
sliding
down my cheek
dusting
yesterday
on
withering
regret
stained
lips

here
at the
end
of
a dirt road
where
no
bell
will
chime
to
your exit.


© Gry W Christensen...

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There are words that avoid the paper,
That hides from the pen,
That detest the ink,
That cannot be typed down,
That I cannot grasp

That is my heart,
That speaks...

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My heart 
is my alphabet,
beating the letters out
through the pores of my skin.

I gather them
in my hands.

I mold the words.

And they pour down on the...

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Just ignore this
nothing but
letters
on paper
taking
a stroll
across
the lines

Out in
the fresh air
with
eyes wide
open
newly
released
from
a pen.


© Gry W Christensen...

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Ignore
the words
the writer
poured all over
see the white sheet
underneath
wailing at you
tearing up
your interpretation
of something
so simple
as dried ink.

© Gry W Christensen...

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