Details |
Shannon Brose Poem
Scary closets,
And darkened rooms.
Always lead me back to you.
Clapping everytime i stick it.
Laughing everytime i smile.
Huggin when i fall.
Being here is your job,
All the time, even when i fall.
Crying when i leave,
Wishing for luck.
Yelling at me.
Spanking my butt.
You are my mommy.
And that is just that.
Copyright © Shannon Brose | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Shannon Brose Poem
What is love?
Is it the way you look in someones eyes?
The way you hold them in your arms?
The way you smile and smile back?
Or is it all of the above?
We take love for granted.
Think your in love, but not.
You're in love with the idea of being in love.
And in the end, it kills.
Shakespeare wrote about every love,
Young love,
Old love,
Friend love,
Family love,
Hateful love,
Every love.
He believes in love.
Love is everything.
From your heart to your mind.
Lust and faith.
All of the above, is love.
Copyright © Shannon Brose | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Shannon Brose Poem
I hear things.
From the tapping of the foot.
To the noise of breath.
From the beating of your heart.
to the silence of your death.
To the wind blowing in the air.
To the way you flip your hair.
To the sound of a stereo.
To the way you say, "I know."
To the way you say "I love you,"
To the way i say "I love you, too."
Copyright © Shannon Brose | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Shannon Brose Poem
Sitting on your front porch steps,
Watching leaves fall down every second.
Thinking about your little bet,
About how you said you'd win.
Every time you said you'd win,
You would beg your mom for help.
She'd give you a snack from the bin,
You'd say you'd win again.
Falling on your knee's, loosing.
Crying at that very thought.
Wishing you would quit boozing,
The night has just begun.
Copyright © Shannon Brose | Year Posted 2011
|