In late January, I met them. It was a corner that I finally turned in my life. Shy… that was never me until I lost my friends. And when I found new ones, I was still that.
But friendships are sweet.
We acted like we'd known each other forever after a month, and it was almost a honeymoon period. I was learning inside jokes and the tea about all the guys.
See… friendships are sweet.
Prom was exactly four months after we met, and we all were in our gowns and new at this, being freshman that year. I left them for a bit, to talk to my crush, and they kept cheering me on. I love them so much.
Friendships are so sweet.
Never forget that.
They'll grow into a tree that bears many aamazing fruits, and you jus have to be patient with it.
Blue called a meeting at half past two.
The moon borrowed a beam
for light inside the house.
The sea arrived on a horse.
Its tail curled up tight.
The sky was a writer.
It always had a pen.
The rain rushed in, his storm coat
dripping on the floor.
The wave measured its length
rushing through the door.
The cloud looked like it would burst.
It had been eating all day.
“The minutes?” Blue asked.
The sky had written them.
The wind had other ideas.
Yesterday during our meeting
I was freeing my soul from the chains of the night
I was teaching its eyelashes
How to look at you
Look at it, see it flowing between us
Would you call it a wave?
Would you call it a rose? Take it
Crumble it on your lips
Wobbling, whistling down the street,
I think "What could be more sweet?"
than "lost in a lost world" and
"stranger in a strange land"
could in the lines of this poem meet.
Yesterday during our meeting
I was freeing my soul from the chains of the night
I was teaching its eyelashes
How to look at you
Look at it, see it flowing between us
Would you call it a wave?
Would you call it a rose? Take it
Crumble it on your lips
Gathering fantasies over here
Warm holiday books feat setting near
Stomping crimson red grapes
Imagining romantic fate
Characters dreaming of cupid's spear
Dragged through a valley of aching hopes,
A fountain of dreams mesmerized my soul.
My precious being flung toward heaven's gate,
That's how it felt when our eyes first met.
My destiny was to chase you in every pursuit,
You, the rhythm that makes my heart beat true.
Pulsing through me as our days grow old,
A timeless bond, more priceless than gold.
On a drive I saw two arches of color
Two arches of color of such brilliance as to bring joy to the heart
Two arches of color striving to meet each other in the middle
Two arches striving but never meeting
A sadness of the moment or a hope that they will someday meet
Better to see the moment and look forward for when they meet
For time doesn’t stop and neither should we.
I know you think you’re to blame
but you didn’t ask for this name
in years to come, the monster is muted
you’re afraid of late nights, raised voices and fights but one day that all stops and it’s all left behind
They’ll tell you can’t, won’t give you a chance and in the end you prove them all wrong
but take caution with change and tighten those reigns because where you end up, that’s not where you belong
Yes, you exceed every expectation
but it’s at the cost of your own elation
much of your struggle is birthed from your creation
you become a bullet train that gets lost at the station
Every word they say, I know it crushes your day but you’ll figure it out in your own complex way
growing older you’ll learn, the ailments we earn come at us straight out of the blue
you’ll find yourself seething from all the halo cleaning with everything you go through
Above all, I must say
there are brighter days but darker ones are still to come
you have what it takes to reach those high stakes and still now, it has only begun
A goodbye happened before hello,
in some twisted loves, you just know.
I knew it was over before it even began,
suffocated by the calloused hands of a man.
I only saw your eyes in passing,
only one glimpse, and I knew they were worth having.
A goodbye was the very start,
the kind that ruins you in its poetic art.
I didn’t need to know your story.
I watched, noted the places you like to hang out,
you in all your glory.
I stalked for months, had all kinds of fun.
It’s a pity you didn’t when I told you to run.
I liked your bubbly charisma.
I played into it with charm.
You didn’t know all I wanted was to cause you harm.
I tricked you, said I knew your friend,
but when the lights went out, limp and alone,
you knew by the end.
I’m a psycho, a natural-born killer.
I’ve added you to my collection,
in which I’ve labelled thriller.
I said goodbye before hello.
You were pretty, a blonde,
and you didn’t even know.
The giant gray marine squamate, the mosasaur
Called lizard of the Meuse River, forevermore
Some think you are extinct, but I know differently
I met you Wednesday in the Magellan Sea
The hallway to enter a leftover room.
Loud and soft spoken at the same rate.
Echoes.
Eyeballs.
Fidgeting so much that a nail popped off.
Clink.
This meeting is a place for loud pitter patter.
We tear out the old wiring, gruffly.
Plug into the system as if we are alive with twisted cords.
Chapped lips.
This meeting is grungy, complicated, teeth chattering.
It’s cold as a diver submerged in the ocean.
Took my scarf off in a daze.
They took attendance as silently as stale water.
She stands in the field,
white daisies gather at her ankles,
small moons of their own
glowing in the hush.
Butterfly wings
rest easy on her back~
not bright, not loud,
but tender things,
the kind grown
from wonder rather than magic.
The moon rises behind her,
a quiet lantern
lifting its silver breath
into the sky.
Its glow folds around her shoulders,
softening the edges
of everything she is.
A dragonfly lands
on her fingertips,
light as a held thought.
Its wings shimmer
with a secret kind of blue,
the color of trust.
She does not move.
She only looks~
and the dragonfly looks back,
their eyes meeting
in that small, perfect silence
where understanding needs
no language at all.
The daisies lean in,
petals lifted,
as if the field itself
can feel the first flutter
of something beginning.
The moon glows softly,
holding its quiet vigil~
watching a girl
and a dragonfly
share, for one resplendent heartbeat,
the same moment.
Moonbeam was a throwback to the seventies
with her blue jean jacket with patches of honeybees
there were daisies in her hair, it was loose and free
Reminding me of how grand life was in seventy-three
Moonbeam was named by her grandma Tee
A woman who back in the day ran with me
I was thrilled to meet Moonbeam, she was such a delight
I told her stories about her grandmother into the night
He met her on a plane from San Francisco to Des Moines
Why and how she mesmerized him, he could not possibly coin
She was the best listener he had ever had and kind too
the crush he had on her was incredibly intense in ninety-two
Thirty-three years since he said goodbye to her that day
Never saw her again after a taxi whisked her away
Did not get her number, but never forgot her smile
Every song he wrote was about her after awhile
An unrequited love that would have surprised her
She has a kind heart that is incredibly pure
He wonders sometimes if she ever thinks of him
His memories of her have never flickered or dimmed.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.