36 are left on my pillow,
I smell the smoke and history.
I keep it in tune, but just
for a short while,
I fold over to make room for all
that is left of me.
Why cant you talk to me?
Why cant you talk to me?
21 pages in, and i've said nothing
I'd call it modest but
its got humidity. I've got
a chair that folds into a star
But it doesn't soar it just
sits on the floor.
Why cant you talk to me?
Why cant you talk to me?
I've got a light that's
shadowed in jazz,
and a heating system that keeps
me cold. I've got a place to
lock things away, but i always
leave the key in the lock.
Why cant you talk to me?
Why cant you talk to me?
I stack my noises at a slant,
I drape it in wires and plaster
and dust. I've got some pictures
of times i don't remember,
But i took the picture's so
i must have been there.
Why cant you talk to me?
Why cant you talk to me?
Why cant you talk to me?
I've got a chest of things
in the corner, with picures of
films and things that smell nice.
I've gota neat little rack that
didn't cost anything,but it has no
real order,that makes sense to me.
Why cant you talk to me?
A contest entry
- Ode To The Twilight Zone by skilter.
775 points, ended November 15, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
-
very interesting piece. enjoyed the flow. thank you for adding your write to the contest!
-
yer 16? holy cripes........i thought yew were like..56 with how great your poems are! -tips hat- you sir, have talent.
ing alone,
Mylee -
awesome
I've got
a chair that folds into a star
But it doesn't soar it just
sits on the floor.
I really love that, I'd say for sixteen you've got it going on. Keep writing, I see you rising!
Lori
Adding your comment:
