* * *
Wonder
I wonder what your doing right now,
Wondering what color is your shirt,
Wondering how it smells...
Wondering if your wondering about the things I wonder of you...
Poems on the topic: thought
Poems on the topic “thought” on Poets.by.
Im trapped
Im trapped in my head
all my thoughts and desires stay inside
too scared to leave
in case of ridicule
ive been trying to let them out droplet at a time
but its hard
i feel like a prisoner
always locked away
the only time im authentic
is when im under lock and key
it spreads throughout my body
and starts to pain
writing it out
to make sure i dont spill
Who am I?
I'm the girl who stays hushed in her room
Where my thoughts are dark and scary
The thoughts invade and are like parasites
Always saying mean things
Who am I?
I'm the girl that hopes that everything is ok
Scared that the darkness will consume
The world that she lives
Who am I?
I'm the girl that wants to die
But does not wish to give
The world the satisfaction that it seeks
just a poem
some thoughts are better left unsaid,
some thoughts are special enough that i think
if i were to share them to the wrong person
i'd spend my life, trying to get that thought back.
Certain Thoughts Keep Repeating
I want to sleep
My thoughts however...
Why can't they stop?
Why do they keep repeating?
Why do I have to remember?
In the end I'm still awake,
Begging them to cease.
9/16/74
Thoughts make men strangers
and create great moments of urgency,
as well as nervousness, when a thought
moves you to wake up and light a cigarette
and lie back on pillow, content
in thinking, in playing the thought through,
that's the only way for it to die!
The death of a thought isn't wholesome
like coming home from school for a glass of milk
and cookies. There's no wholesomeness
in guilt, but it comes in dreams
in the form of pictures
of saints and rabbinical figures
lighting big cigars.
There's no thought like the one I'm having.
It bends me backwards in my chair so that
Wyoming
A mountain outside
a room inside
a skull above
Snow on the mountain
flowers in the room
thoughts in the skull.
* * *
and now I'm overthinking things again
but no one cares to stop me
from falling back into the deep end
* * *
she was once asked
why she liked thunderstorms
She answered
" it drowns out my thoughts"
* * *
The words aren't flowing
because I'm not sure
if it's alright
to say what I'm thinking
‘Stop’ Signs
‘Stop’ signs horrify me.
Every time I look at them
I start thinking about a great disaster
which could happen, if those cold metal signs
with just four letters applied
to our thoughts, our feelings and our dreams.
All the roads within the world of our souls
would be trapped in big traffic jams.
Warning sirens, crashes, fires,
would appear everywhere
in this endless fast-moving network.
The world of our souls would go crazy,
and within a few days time
a sign with ten letters would appear,
‘Extinction’.
The Place of the Solitaires
Let the place of the solitaires
Be a place of perpetual undulation.
Whether it be in mid-sea
On the dark, green water-wheel,
Or on the beaches,
There must be no cessation
Of motion, or of the noise of motion,
The renewal of noise
And manifold continuation;
And, most, of the motion of thought
And its restless iteration,
In the place of the solitaires,
Which is to be a place of perpetual undulation.
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