Polaroid Poems - Poems about Polaroid

It's been almost a year now but that dream still feels as if I'm holding it The way my arms don't want to let go of you The way your head rest on my shoulder reminds me how to smile through the tears My thoughts of you are always the picture perfect photographic memories I feel the weight...

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Fingertips touch the polaroid photo my smile is transformed to teardrops; Locked in a box for so long I’d almost forgotten that moment; It wears a crease but not badly damaged maybe now I can bear the scar; Traveling instantly back will finally not give me whiplash; Frolicking in the bygone reflections dappled with beams of history; Perception stood suspended out...

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River blue t-shirts side by side, three pairs of shoulders. Wish on an eyelash for wide smiles, and shades of black-brown eyes, gleaming. Favourite, yellow flower twelve of them tied with floral tape on the new moon, monday, bright blue sky Timeless, Polaroid picture....

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Seven second serendipitous develop Macro piano keys maestro, Lord Ceiling laden with citrus psychedelic Unsatiated homosapiens flawed Ghost film...

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Long, winding gravel driveway decrepit old Mercury station wagon parked there doors unlocked those big red buttons sticking up no seatbelts either Tiger lilies blooming all-at-once, on either side of the gravel A few years...

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My neighbor wants to see her photo, But I do not let her peek as it develops, because I did that with my cousin Louisa Annabelle. Louisa Annabelle was horrified as the Polaroid darkened up. She was gone, disappeared, invisible. There was only a background. Where did I go? She demanded. This is when I realized this...

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The meeting point. Where candle smoke, mixed with incense, meanders through the air. A latent image developing, like a polaroid of prayer, into microscopic particles of silver, weaving into an undulating bridge reaching to heaven. This writhing wreath of smoke, twisting in the sun’s rays, that probe with bright fingers, through slatted...

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We have friends Close with Still communicating Thinking they are forever there In the moments to come Talking about random things Going deep in our souls Doing everything Being there For each other Hopefully for a lifetime The thing is There is no control For all of them to stay Being initiative To understand To look at the same picture Sad reality check We may have been prioritized Saved as favourites and not What vulgar...

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Your memory is like an expired polaroid film - I still keep it as though it would be the most precious treasure of mine, yet I am aware of the truth: till I walk this earth I will never take a look at it....

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THOUGHT LETTERS I wrote a thousand letters in my mind about the clouds I saw, the songs I heard, the thoughts I wished to share. I wrote them in a plane, on a road, or in a quiet time alone. They were unsent, unstamped, or hurried on their way. Because . . . Because . . . Because . . . ADDRESS I found the address long saved, newly...

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one thing we are never told pictures taken in polaroid have a way of fading over time very much like you and me and the picture we used to be no longer has that kodachrome shine it happens to the best of us the color fade of wanderlust bringing out the worst in black and white one thing i'm relying on although i'm barely hanging...

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Three, two, one. . . Smile When cameras snap and flicker Happiness brought for awhile Three, two, one. . . Smile Different poses and style Comes a photo to remember Three, two, one. . . Smile When cameras snap and flicker...

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Nostalgic in noon Apostrophe in desire ...

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No not the portrait when you were younger, my dear Just a Polaroid snapshot at the beach that year No earrings, no make-up, your hair was a mess ("So what? Got a problem? I couldn't care less!") Brother-in-law behind you, mugging like a fool Our nephew beside him, trying to look cool You had a little patch of sand on your...

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The photo is crisp, although somewhat faded, its glossy surface skewed by highlighted creases, which appear like white lines under an incandescent ceiling lamp. That lamp flickers - the only light source in the room, and the plastic Polaroid flicks in and out, an image of a man and his lady, arms around one another, in winter, in snow laden fields. He had misplaced his...

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