Short Poems

Sometimes

Posted on by A. Long

Sometimes my pillows

capture a piece of your scent

and I can’t sleep

I dream up cheap

imitations of my own imagination

I gather up the bits

place them into my necklace

and hit replay

to get through the day.

Melted

Posted on by A. Long

My baby don’t love me no more

maybe he never did

i melted

into the floorboards waiting

for him to come home

comb through the knots

in our relationship

married to my hair

i cut it

out, cancerous strands grew

there from where he’d grab

dig his fingers deep into the roots

then pull

snatch

take

all they do is take

your breasts your likeness your body is gone in an instant

without so much as a hand hold

cuckholded lacily held yesterdays

where’s yesterday

he wont even look at me anymore

crawling past the door

towards another chest

but i need to love to want him

don’t know if it made a difference

now its just

wanting leaving the wanted with longing

Pray for me I’ve seen too much

of these buh bye boys to men

to children.

 

 

 

The Pressures.

Posted on by A. Long

(Love twists

the young man. Having seen it

only once. He expected it

to be, as the orange flower

leather of the poet’s book.

He expected

less hurt, a lyric. And not

the slow effortless pain

as a new dripping sun pushes

up out of our river. )

And

having seen it, refuses

to inhale. “It was a

green mist, seemed

to lift and choke

the town.”

–Imamu Amiri Baraka

My Poetry, Short Poems

clouds

Aside | Posted on by A. Long

we’re flying high 

drunk off clouds 

spiraling through

turbulence

i know you, stranger

familiar prick

don’t stain the sky red

before the sunset

let’s just cruise at this altitude

close eyes

free hair

wind whip through outstretched fingertips

sip serenity together

flocking with feathers

and all that jazz 

Drums

Posted on by A. Long

Drums don’t beat. Hearts do. Hearts can’t break. Bones do. Bones don’t bend. Rivers do. Rivers don’t judge. People do. People don’t know how much I love you.

I do.