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RebeccaI feel guilty noticing the large folds of doughy fleshRebecca
beneath her kind ankle length jumper. She waddles across the too-bright room,
collecting incompletion and sliding past asleep. She coughs up chalk dust and classroom silt and diluted expectation or want of anything better than a classroom filled with disinterested students who spend the period dozing off, writing poems, and slumping over desks like cowering weeping willows, never looking for anything greater. She gets excited when we understand. She does not mind when we don't. Her favorite w
by ~chelseaanne
grey fieldit is sad to walk across the grey field, muddy and crawling with tiny spiders. where there once was life there now is nothing. trees chopped to the quick left in heaps by the creek out of the sight of rush hour traffic children. i crawl across the unstable trees, emaciated bodies piled high and left for dead. i feel both sad and disrespectful, trying hard to keep my balance while climbing across those that have already fallen from their upright, noble positions. but out of the ground relief is seen, four tiny growing green sprouts- the solitary color acrgrey field
by ~chelseaanne
eating grapefruitthe stomachs of thunderclouds had been split open, so we could not lay in the grass as we had planned. we tore apart the pink flesh while weeating grapefruit
swallowed comfort in the yellow of the kitchen. in those twenty minutes it took us to scrape our way to the bottoms, leaving only empty peels which folded like wet wads of pale pink tissue paper, i fell more in love with you.
by ~chelseaanne
lets go home.I did not care what they had to say about him. They told me he was no good, they said he would get me into trouble. But listening to them had never got me far before. He told me it would only take a minute. I was to stand outside. I was to cross the road and watch. I was the lookout, he said. I suppose that made me feel important. I listened to every word he said. It did not matter what I had to do, or the men he made me work for, I would do it. His voice, though harsh and uncomforting, waslets go home.
by ~chelseaanne
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: gibbsboro,new jersey
- Interests: reading, going over nicks, art,writing,journalism
- Favourite movie: pretty in pink, best in show
- Favourite band or musician: cursive,the pixies, tori amos, ani difranco
- Favourite artist: lichtenstein,matise
- Favourite poet or writer: shakespeare, poe, beau sia, slyvia plath
- Favourite photographer: nickmaimone.com
- Favourite game: tetris!!!
- Personal Quote: "vaaagnaaaa!!!"
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Since when are the first line and the last line of any poem where the poem begins and ends?
~BlueAeroplane
,iann
but, i wanna thanks for your help
interesting poetry, the problem is that i don't speak english very well, but i try to read and comprehend all that i can.
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nickmaimone.com
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nickmaimone.com
~blablaskunk
i really like your avatar, it's beautiful
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~projekt-flickan
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--Je suis une saucisse, Je suis une saucisse!!--
"I'm a sausage, I'm a sausage!!"
--Eboni mange le pied--
"Eboni eats feet"
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