Floor Poems - Poems about Floor

One, two, I think I'm through; Three, four, under the floor; Five, six, I'm in a fix; Seven, eight, he met his fate; Nine, ten, I'm in the pen; Eleven, twelve, my hopes to shelve; Thirteen, fourteen, clean with chlorine; Fifteen, sixteen, bloody crime scene; Seventeen, eighteen, murder unforeseen; Nineteen, twenty, stole my Good & Plenty. ...

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He tastes the salt before he knows he's shed a tear He'd always been a staggering man Since his Army days known by most simply as Big Roy Now he's a staggered man This night, curved and hunched Bags so heavy and dark under his eyes They'd just as well be rotten figs about to fall And splat and stain the ground...

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In the depths of silence, on the cold floor of memories, I wander through old thoughts, in the shadow of lost dependencies. I return to the same illusions, to those forgotten pills, One after another, the days slip by in a deep sleep. I cannot get over the reasons that abruptly broke our connection, I cannot understand how our destinies...

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Neighborhood Gossip He walks all alone and does evil things, quietly making puppets walk without strings. He's the only one who emerged from the wreck. When you sleep, he'll stab you in the neck. Am I Wiser Now? I wanted to know what it all meant so I visited the Asian continent. Am I wiser now, back...

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It's three o'clock in the morning, and I'm sitting here on the bathroom floor, reliving that day— reliving your death. If only crying could ease the pain... maybe I could live my life again. But instead, I close my eyes and hear my voice blubbering to 911. Dad is at work—he's safe. I try to call Jaime, but he hangs up because I can't speak. I'm trying to...

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I cannot write what I do not feel. I cannot feel what I do not know. To write without passion is to kneel at the nameless grave and weep, to mourn the soil and not the dead, to beg meaning from dust and call it poetry. I lie on the floor of my bathroom just to feel the weight of my bones. Cool tile...

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When walking on a wet floor, Prints are left up to the door. For the leopard to follow, Deep in a line. A layer of water, Becomes quite slick. Pick up a broom, Becomes a hockey stick. ...

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The discarded dead find an unused beauty, an afterlife that curls, re births, tunnels and reshapes - a mulching of a former season's thin bones. Mortality buds from an emptiness long before the seed encloses it, a mottled mold unwinds death to life. See the genetics of the unseen, see the shedding and replenishing, a branching polymorphic architecture that constantly furrows and gardens the grave. A self-determined...

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Gravity makes things go down, to the ground like a funny clown. Missing the trash can, now on the floor plan. Gravity will always be around....

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Floor Mirrors The way free standing floor mirrors use colour is very close to the way traffic lights use colour. ...

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The cat was on the dance floor He didn’t meow, anymore; Because his rhythm from his paws He stops, stares and stands on hind two paws Cat stands dance not he jest, praise the Lord ...

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Step across the threshold, Step into my world. You can be my Summer; We will languish in the heat. Lying sweaty on top of messy sheets. Our time will seem to stretch out endlessly before us, And we will believe that this can go on forever. But when the air starts to cool our bodies, Lover, you’ll become my Autumn. Your love won’t be...

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I like to write poetry sitting on the floor. Even when my body is sore. From feeling panic throughout the night. So I am tense and tight. When I wake in the morning, I could eat breakfast. But before that, I write a poem really fast. I like to write poetry sitting on the floor. Pages...

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If I tear myself apart, Will you be there to build me back up ? Will you take the time to repair what’s broken ? Even if it can’t be repaired ? Even if it happens again ? I could never promise you peace. If I did, I would be looking at myself in the mirror, And my eyes wouldn't be...

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On the floor of the future, she twirls, dancing through the boundless, In contemporary moments, still unshaped, She carves her path through the fullness of time, Until it becomes one with her present. An ethereal dance, spiraling into destiny, Moments merge, battling with eternity, Each movement, a step into the unknown, A leap among stars, constellations of unmade memories. Now she says she...

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