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Open Poetry #27

Riddles

Kaoru

Member Elite

since 2003-06-07

Posts 3892
where the wild flowers grow

0 posted 2003-06-14 12:06 PM

I try to speak in riddles,
but my mouth has been rid of words that rhyme.
I'm trying to write,
my hands are bone dry,
fingernails have grown bloody and brittle.
I'm trying to write,
Who knew it wouldn't be so simple?

I'm lighting my lighter with a cigarette,
crushing the lighter like a memory in
my ashtray, where I seem to spend my life.
Everythings backwards and torn
by linguistic poverty.

If I could speak, I'd tell you..

"Honey,
if your words were like glue-
I'd be the stickiest girl in the room."

I'd not bloom like
an imploding flower, that I am.
Colorblind..and insecure.
I am miniscule and stuck
to your words ..
your riddles never rhyme.

the_loner_23
Member Ascendant

since 2002-06-08

Posts 5479
Jacksonville, Florida, USA

1 posted 2003-06-14 12:08 PM

This is an awesome poem.

Cold hands means a warm heart

passing shadows
Member Empyrean

since 1999-08-26

Posts 45577
displaced

2 posted 2003-06-14 04:55 AM

cool!

gemjop
Member Elite

since 2002-11-18

Posts 2587
Pencilveinia, USA

3 posted 2003-06-14 05:59 AM

loved this part most:

I'd not bloom like
an imploding flower, that I am.
Colorblind..and insecure.
I am miniscule and stuck
to your words ..
your riddles never rhyme.

i want to keep this, it speaks volumes to me.

much love,
gemxxx

Artic Wind
Member Rara Avis

since 2007-09-16

Posts 8080
Realm of Supernatural

4 posted 2008-02-01 09:19 PM

Enjoyed...

ARCTIC WIND

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