Home » Poems » Best » Madison Alan-Lee » Best Madison Alan-Lee Poems

Best Poems Written by Madison Alan-Lee

Below are the all-time best Madison Alan-Lee poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Madison Alan-Lee Poem

Pove Loem

my beautiful drug.

oh, how filled with heartbreaking joy i am to feel your addicting lovelinesss

if i said i hated your guts, i'd be lying and you'd know it.

         purely unspoken. thats how it works.
you're the daisy to my chain,
the beam to my moon,
the words to my sentences,
the smile to my face,
the ephemeral clouds to my sky,
the thing to my every.

what more can i say?
can i live without you?

i hope that
i never have to find out

darling, you asked 
and i replied.


combine all the beautiful words in the dictionary,
the dazzling, aching hollowness one feels when they cry with laughter,
and a melody that makes you shiver with wonderment

                               
                                                 and now you know what i feel
                                                      when i look at you.

Details | Madison Alan-Lee Poem

Little Jimmy

little Jimmy is a retard
all the kids say so

	
he doesn’t go to church
and his brown patent leather shoes are dusty


little Jimmy is quite stupid
all the kids say so


in winter he doesn’t get a Christmas tree
and his house is in a bad area of town


little Jimmy is a dummy
all the kids say so


he wears an odd gold star embroidered on his jacket
and eats strange things for lunch


little Jimmy is a moron
all the kids say so

he doesn’t even have a bike!

we spit and throw rocks at him
i feel funny when we do those things


…but all the kids say
little Jimmy is an idiot

maybe mr. hitler with his neat mustache can straighten little Jimmy out
i’ll ask mother if i can wright mr. hitler a letter.




				someday, when i’m grown up
				  i want a mustache like that too.

Details | Madison Alan-Lee Poem

2012

And the Wise man said to himself,
“all that is broken must be renewed”
and so it arises, slides through the horizons,
slippery as a mermaid.

While the light shivers and the trees moan,
the water thrashes, thrusts,
turns and roils.

and so the sea,
the sea begins.

Soon after, the gods awake,
and taste the pulp,
the pulp of the moment
they hover, captivated by their own power, mirrored,
down below in the depths.

and so the sea, 
the sea roams on.

The crevices crack,
the buildings bow down and break,
the cities tower in puzzlement.

And down on the street, we ask ourselves,
“What was it that beat?  What was the rhythm that once beat so majestically and true,
but now thuds so bashfully?”

and so the tide rears its head and strains,
the waves stampede and burst,
the Wise man smiles his omniscient smile,
and the sea,
the sea wanders on.

Details | Madison Alan-Lee Poem

Un.

i always knew i wouldn’t die in a car accident.

over, and over in my mind i pictured


	the breath-gulping jolt, the heart-stopping shudder
the weak, gasping, clawing for control
inside the dark blackness

glass raining down on the innocent planet like butter knives
ecstatically sinking their jagged bodies into the ground, or simply shattering into chunks
upon touching

	i always knew i wouldn’t die in a car accident.

that my neck wouldn’t gracefully arch in the wrong direction
that it wouldn’t snap like
…a wishbone


i knew i wasn’t destined
to open my confused eyes in such an unknowing way that i would see my unfulfilled life
wander past me in the flash of a moment

	oh no, oh no
	i always, always knew i wouldn’t die in a car accident.

the smell of startled asphalt, the screech and cry of protesting tires, the stuttering of
my red leather seats, the cacophony of worried, puzzled thoughts and the unattached,
curious gazes from untouched onlookers that would then go about their unfulfilled lives
never unforgetting and the whiz of passing, unharmed automobiles

i would never experience the touch of crude, busy hands from those who make it their
unfulfilled life’s work to recover the unrecoverable, to correct the uncorrectable, to
save the unsavable, and to cure the uncureable

to stop the unwavering tide of death

yes death
that one single bright shining light in each of our lives that is constant and unalterable
and unmodifiable

	oh yes, i know i won’t die in a car accident.

around me, the sky is an ordinary blue, and birds wail their pure, righteous, unblamable,
and unstained ditties


how wondrous…i didn’t realize how high up i am                         .



	such along, long, long way down


	oh no, oh no
	i most surely will never ever die
	
			ina car accident.

Details | Madison Alan-Lee Poem

Poem From "legende" By Wieniawski

Winds batter the dusty house,
	can you hear the creaks, moans, the wrinkles?
	his hands,
	glide up and down the worn wood of the aged 	rocking chair

	this place is the essence of antiquity; 
	i feel ill-at-ease

	his dull eyes search
	for something, anything to pull him
	into the past

	the chair groans: once, twice,
	a third time

	i wait, impatient to depart.
	he offers me a bowl of blueberries
	politely, i refuse
….and then, finally he sees it:

        that one, single object which
	lights the spark in his lifeless eyes, and which 	captivates him

	he beings to speak….
	softly at first, then louder, 
	crescendoing in volume

	i can see him reliving his worn-out memories, 	handling each with care, like a prized item
	or an old, trusted friend

	i watch him ramble and reminisce
	about so many things
	the war, the shine of her hair, the laughter of the 	children	

	he even tells me about the blueberry bush he
	planted over her grave

	i listen, and listen
	hours later he is jolted
	out of his reverie…
	the jingling of my cell phone

	i see 
	the sparkle dim
	the laugh lines fade
….he slips away into nothingness
	
	once, twice, a third time
	the rocking chair groans

	i creep away
	down the lane and leave him
	still sitting there

	a solitary figure
	surrounded by ghosts and wisps
	of things that once were
	they swirl around him,
	caressing his wrinkled brow 
	with cool fingers


	at home i open my refrigerator 
	
	and i eat blueberries	
	they stain my clothes, and 
	i try to get them out
	but
	they cannot, and will not leave.

Details | Madison Alan-Lee Poem

Ode To Poets

i don’t want to hear.

stop your racket, let me curl up
into my
self.

forget the new, the change,
freeze the turning point
melt my bones into quicksand

	
		love is like a disease;
		wherever you go, i
		most certainly will follow

my body is a door 
the fist that knocks upon
it is
my heart

the poets
they, the dead ones
speak of matters such as eternal, and everlasting

excuse me, pardon me
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
beautiful, ornate, twirling speech like the spirals of Notre Dame

forgive me please, my dear poets
my words are plain, crude but they do 
hold my spirit.

…oh, i digress,
i flutter here and there

						****

know this: 
i travel you with me
our paths never separate at least not to me in my mind

i am stationary, still, steady

only when i hear

does the earth move under my feet

only when i see

do i feel off-tilt

						you.

you make me spin off my axis,
corkscrew out of orbit,
hopscotch along the stars

	dodging comets, heartbeats, metaphors and tears

only occasionally,
						i collide.

















			]words unbind me, but only sometimes[

Details | Madison Alan-Lee Poem

Teendream

hanging out
that’s what we do
pondering glory and greatness,
drinking nostalgia from a plastic cup 

that clock ticks,
that song plays,
cross our t’s and dot our i’s
play fast and loose
eagerly feel up life

say we won’t look back,
but do it when we think no one’s looking

slip, swallow, sing, startle, emerge
try our very hardest to be unique

and close our eyes so tight 
that the blackness deepens around us

make our bodies a smile,
open, and begin again.

Details | Madison Alan-Lee Poem

Miss Kelsey Louisa

Miss Kelsey Louisa is only 5 years old.

but she’s figuring out a lot of things about life.

she knows more than when she was only 4 years old.

Kelsey knows about love.

it’s the way her dog Sandy chases a laughing squirrel

its also the way mama smiles when she gets a letter from daddy

Kelsey knows about unfairness too.

this one is the way mama calls her for dinner right when she’s almost to the middle of
her cherry tootsie roll pop that she saved from the doctor’s office

its also the way Molly tripped her in the park when Kelsey didn’t share

Kelsey understands nervousness.

it’s the way a deer looks when it gets caught eating the roses in the garden

maybe its also the way people sometimes twitch…a cracking of the knuckles, a pacing of
the floor, a tapping of the foot, even a clenching and unclenching of the lips

oh, and Kelsey understands death too.

this one is the jingling of the phone during dinner
they aren’t supposed to answer it, but sometimes they just have to

death is also the sound of the emptiness coming from the broken clock on Kelsey’s
bedroom wall

all these and more Miss Kelsey Louisa knows.

except for one.

just one.

fear.

is it the smell of burning cookies?

or maybe the flash of a jolt she feels when someone sneaks up on her during hide-and-seek?

or what if it was the time when her favorite color crayon snapped in two? what an
awful, awful, desolate noise that was…

Kelsey knows about happiness.

this one is easy!

the shade of the yellow ribbon on the head of a mannequin in the nearby clothing store

happiness is sunshine, painted fingernails, sticky sweet watermelon juice running down
her face, sand castles, and twirling till she’s dizzy and the entire planet pirouettes
around her

but most of all,
happiness is the way Kelsey felt when her daddy came home and hugged her

his camouflage uniform and boots were gleaming

Miss Kelsey Louisa is only 5 years old.

but she knows a lot of things.

many more than when she was 4.

Details | Madison Alan-Lee Poem

Part One

I pull down my worn thesaurus, turn the notebook to an empty, curious page

click and unclick my pen
5 or 6 times
as if to click some inspiration into my searching, wandering brain

some days I grow frustrated with
my inability to coherently express

some days I grow content with
the effortless ebb and flow of words

at times, the paper is my ally and friend

at others, it is my enemy, taunting me with dangling strings of eloquence
and just when my hopeful fingertips brush the ends, they are quickly snatched back

I revel in the freedom, the liberty, yet I am also imprisoned within the lines, trapped
into the ink, and woven into the paper

a prisoner with absolutely no desire to escape

I believe the ending of a piece of writing to be the most important part; the last thing
the reader sees

it must be powerful, thought-provoking, insightful

one must never ever leave it
unfinished, and incomplete

		it would not be right to just….



								
	trail off

Details | Madison Alan-Lee Poem

Part Three

i was once told
			             that we, as individuals

			           have defining moments

where the dim light brightens, the clichés morph into new, original phrases

				          epiphanies

where the molecules in the air around us freeze for a moment

time forgets what it was saying

a standstill, a realization
where all one’s ideas, experiences, and capabilities merge

some go all their lives without it, some search for it, some never look and get lucky,
while others find it just a 
little too late

definitive. definition. momentous.

still others receive this gift, this snapping into place, and go all their lives 
never realizing it

…how dismal a notion

i lean back, blotch the fresh ink with the side of my hand, listen to the rain, stare down
at the page

i hope i have a defining moment



…when i draw a circle with my pen
i can never seem 

to draw it perfectly.