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The drowned girl
The apothecary is making with
his hands as common as water
the bridge to absence
where she met
her little night.
Gedichte zum Thema: girl
Gedichte zum Thema „girl“ auf Poets.by.
PARIAH
It’s true, i was careless,
that one i was always shadowing–that
little light of mine–it gave me
the slip one night.
I’d thought i could allow myself
one unguarded dream, woke
to the baying of dogs & the beating
of a hundred pairs of wings–pigeons
with their automatic laughter.
I had to go live among the graves,
where no one looks for a wife.
It’s been months now.
Years, even. Time again
when night turns the crests
of the mountains white
like the hands of God on the horizon,
( A Girl Called X )
She is the girl called X ,
small and quaint
strong and sweet
but no one will ever know that .
because physically she is not special
on the outside
she is the girl called X
on the inside she is a glaxay of stories
a mind full of love
and a heart full of beautiful blemishes
but you will never know that
because she is the girl called X .
Little Miss
Little miss perfect
Little miss poised
Little miss pretty
Little miss joy
Little miss nothing
Little miss joke
Little miss useless
Little miss no
If Tsunami Came Rising
As an old man I met a young girl
who loved the ocean more.
She spoke in rapture,
longed for danger,
and let waves wash away
her heart, exposed;
winter storm along the desolate shore.
Once captured by sea,
she could not shake its spell.
Her fever burned, contagious
down her back, seaweed green
and glistening in the long night rain.
I fell in love with her devotion,
gasping for breath along the coast.
Cold waters, Pacific Northwest,
blue numb skin, struggling
Poetry girl against deaf world
She was poetry
in a world
which was still learning the
Alphabet
Drunkenness 8
Earlier in America
it got so cold
we drove west
the far west
the car's tires
stuck to the road.
As a gunman
you menaced shopgirls
your rat-sleek hair
your flashing glasses
small, dirty teeth
the girls adored.
You liked the way
they walked with arms folded
in the cold going for coffee.
You were asshole buddies
The Girl
To begin with,
the road
stretching out
in front of me
does not exist.
Because I say this
you must not
take me seriously.
But it is all the
same, a girl
twisting beneath me
in a red room,
her breasts red
upon red folding
like leaves like
they are only
To be a girl
empty faces filled with guilt
watch the girls as they dealt
with judgemental stares and beady eyes
frowns that made them feel despised
grubby hands suggestive names
she does that you do the same
don't wear that -go here -look this way
your unwanted if you disobey
what is it like to be a girl
in this dirty awful world
to stand up tall is to be a wh**e
but to not lay down just closes doors.
control of my body is what I want
not magazines that laugh and taunt
not celebrity status skin and bones
but if your fat your on your own
PRISM LIGHT
I wonder what it is about girls that look like broken glass
Seem a little kinder than the rest
Why they shine brighter
Than the ones made of porcelain and no cracks.
Maybe the distorted parts of them,
Have learnt the art of prism light
At the right angle,
One beam can turn into many colours
And that is what makes
Girls that are like broken glass
So beautiful
They know that light is what you make of it
School
His seat was by a window. So he dreamed.
How could he study while the sunlight gleamed
In small, sweet shapes, like wild things tame enough
To dart to him and touch his hands for love?
While there were profiles carved in every cloud
To mark as grim or ludicrous or proud,
And agile shadowings to writhe and crawl
Like ghostly spiders up and down the wall,
He could not help but turn their way to look.
His eyes, that would not follow down his book
The muddy trudgings of deliberate words,
Reflected blue and silver flights of birds.
You would not think there was so much to trace
Of wonderment on just a window space.
But once, when a frail scrap of paper moon
Enchanted him from ten o'clock, till noon,
The Plot against the Giant
First Girl
When this yokel comes maundering,
Whetting his hacker,
I shall run before him,
Diffusing the civilest odors
Out of geraniums and unsmelled flowers.
It will check him.
Second Girl
I shall run before him,
Arching cloths besprinkled with colors
As small as fish-eggs.
The threads
Will abash him.
Third Girl
Oh, la ... le pauvre!
I shall run before him,