Writing to get better. Learning to make mistakes. Hoping for the best.
Not a fan of geese.
Read our future in Raspberry tea tinted leaves Air the fated fall.
By C. Carlson4 months ago in Poets
I don’t know what you thought motherhood was supposed to be But this is not it Just because you don’t use your fists Doesn’t mean you don’t hit
By C. Carlson6 months ago in Poets
Child, please You whisper so loudly You could tell your secrets To the moon And he would answer you back With the roaring tides
Now I lay me down to sleep I pray to snore, To dream, Not weep. Not watch the clock All through the night, To stop worrying
June bugs bobbing in the lamppost glow On summer nights, so long ago The days I never thought to lose Now the flickering of a faulty fuse
Just like you, I walk alone through the desert For 3 or 7 or 40 (or some other holy number) Days and nights and years Whether I am doomed to wander or destined to journey
It started simply enough You asked if I had a spoon to spare And because I loved you I lied, and handed it over. Next time you needed more than one.
