Heavy Hours
I wrote this one day when it was raining, I was high, and I was feeling everything
-6:00pm-
I stroke the charred ashes of my halfway-smoked spliff
Pirouetting through the pulsing skin of my palm
Forming your name with the burn
Just so I can carve you into existence
Just so I can give you some permanence
Let the smoke become rain
While you and I become one
-6:01pm-
I want them to read my poetry
So I can see
If they feel themselves in the words
If they can taste my words in their mouth
I wonder if they know
that they are my poetry
That I care even when they don’t
-6:02pm-
Tonight I don’t cry
The sky cries
It pours its heart into the falling rain
It mourns the fallen rain
It lets go
Until it’s
My turn
About the Creator
Tuli
Hi, I hope you feel something from my poetry.
I write primarily for the gracious generation born to lost caregivers
May you one day be inundated with the flowers you always deserved
I also dabble in the genres of the random and corny :)
Smart phones, Humans and Aliens.
WARNING. I will be tapping into one of your favorite creative tensions: The absurdity of humans worshipping their glowing rectangles as if they were tiny oracles. There’s something deliciously poetic about that contradiction, and it lends itself beautifully to an instructive proviso.
By Novel Allen7 days ago in Poets
Thoughts on Vocal and the way the world is
"Death cannot stop true love, only delay it." – Wesley in The Princess Bride. I decided to come back to Vocal on a very cold and dark night at the end of December. I had been, and still am, convalescing from a horrible staph infection that had gone misdiagnosed for months. This, paired with the increasing challenges of being healthy, making the best choices for my co-parented child, being a wife, and being a director at a new job, was a lot to manage.
By Jazzy 5 days ago in Confessions
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.