Vibrating sounds.
Cars, doors, screams.
Goose bumps on my skin.
Gray sky.
Alright day.
No grin.
Cold hands
Cold feet
Cold feelings
Are those that make me weak.
Tipping toes through the lonely house.
Solitude whispers in my ear.
The crisp chill grasps my body.
Wanting it off of me,
I make no intention to run away.
Solemn day it is.
Not so fun.
Judging the color as
I was it’s only judge.
Feel the same way?
Everyone else must.
Lust with frustrations.
I like trouble.
Love with infuriation’s thoughts.
They’re so subtle.
Writing away
Fingers to the keys,
Driven by the sound.
Driven by my needs.
Pretty flowers
Are dead and gone.
October’s smell sings this song.
Author notes
I was thinking of the color orange.
A contest entry
- Seasons! by soccer220.
475 points, ended November 12, 2007, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Nicely done.. I can see where you get your inspiration! I would make the sentences longer, just to give the poem better flow, but overall, great job! Thanks for entering! Good luck and keep your pen flowing!
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