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Tabatha Throne Poem
I wander in the house.
Scared to see if shes not there.
I bang on walls.
I sob and feel anxious in my heart.
I think i can smell her but im not sure.
Maybe im worried or just insecure.
I check the chair she sits upon.
Only to see a cast of her shadow shes not there.
Shes gone.
To the back door and push not tap.
Usually shes there on the phone on the steps talking .
But i dont see her so i turn around and my pace begins to slow down.
Im I exagerriting of something i have not found.
She is my air my peace my whole.
She is creation of the clay that she mold.
In my hand lay a paper that i need to show her,
Where is she im worried and im feeling colder.
I hear a sound and a door opens sweety are you here.
I ran to the store to get us some drinks.
I look and smile she replys with a wink.
I look at the paper and place it in her hand.
She looks at it and reads aloud a poem i wrote while i was sitting still on a
couch writing about a daughter,
Whos mother she could never do without.
Copyright © Tabatha Throne | Year Posted 2006
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Details |
Tabatha Throne Poem
These are thoughts i cant define.
Thoughts that scare even the depths of my mind.
Shallow days bring no joy.
Im scared to wake up i think too much.
In a time i once was happy filled with laughter i know me.
One day where am i but gone.
My body is in the mirror but who is that soul.
The only feeling i have are the wetness of the tips of my fingers tracing my tears.
I try to block out this person who came in.
But even what once made me happy is no longer my friend.
My friends are the thoughts that echo my head twisted little words wishing i were
dead.
But in my heart i find whats left a family i love..for that death is not spoken of.
One bubble popped and i see some soul.
Of a person i once knew long ago.
i learn from this i just have to find whats left of me and take it and grow it like a
vine.
Hard to break apart its path for it knows where it goes and pushes not slacks.
One day i was me the next day who is she.
Where does it hurt i ask its everywhere.
Can it be cured if only i care.
Pills can help says the ads dont want that to change you im scared say dads.
A professional person might do the trick but what if it doesnt and i still fell sick.
I do i pop my bubbles and the bubbles leak outta my skin and outta me.
I look in the mirror and i see someone i know.
Its the bubbles i popped giving me back my soul.
Copyright © Tabatha Throne | Year Posted 2006
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Details |
Tabatha Throne Poem
I seek his passion i seek his pain.
I want to know more about him every spark in his brain.
I take my fingers and trace his eyes.
And in my stomache here they go they fly.
Fluttering on my heart whisping at my veins.
Seeking their approval.
And of course thats what i gave.
Is it a mysterey i just met this man.
About a sunshine ago laying in the sand.
Is it that the rays caused me weak.
For when he looked i didnt know how to speak.
Its that color of hair i favored since young.
Those eyes that place their way through the sun.
His smile that only his lips would treat.
And i look down and there were my feet.
Looking at me and speaking and sighs.
Telling me they were ready to approach this guy.
It must have been the love flys pushing them forward.
Cause in a second I was there he was there.
We said hello and for seconds we spared.
And than i cared.
Another day since we have met i trace his eyes.
And fall into them.
If these love flys had gave me no strength to pushing me forward to meeting this
man.
I would have had no courage just stayed in my place.
But because they flew with love im here like im supposed to be .
The love flys are in the tips of my fingers tracing his face.
Copyright © Tabatha Throne | Year Posted 2006
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Details |
Tabatha Throne Poem
I sing to echo the walls .
I dance to run outta breath.
I run to build the muscles under my skin.
I speak to be heard.
I laugh to smile.
I embrace to feel.
I call to hear.
I clap to congradulate.
I kiss to give emotion.
I yawn to show im tired.
I raise my brow to show interest.
I cry to show pain.
I play to show innerchild.
I act to show talent.
I scream to draw attention.
I stand to be seen.
I write to show me.
Copyright © Tabatha Throne | Year Posted 2006
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