Poetry Blogs (2018, short poem)

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The Gnome

Oh, god! Here I'm

Right back!

In front of you,

Ready to be redeemed

Me, the twin-legged little monster

your magnificiant creation

long long ago

To swallow

the shadows of wealth

To gulp

the shadows of love n hate

To glut

your beloved creations on earth

To gorge

everything in this world

and the other world

The Gnome of shadows!

Of shadows only!!

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Property

 

It doesn’t matter how many years I have passed breathing oxygen 

What matters is my urge to play with the wind
as I oscillate through the swing 

And the force with which I exhale out my laughter

when those voices tickles my senses

And I feel as if I am still roaming around
In the streets of my childhood 

Somewhere looking for those pebbles
That were actual treasures of my li...

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short poem

Missing Soul

I come to at half past three
in the middle of the night
and these images won't erase
I'm haunted by the tape
once it is light
your hands disappear
my brain is mine
and my limbs come crawling back
but the tape keeps playing
I know there's no escape
because night always falls
then I fall into you
and my mind leaves me
with no thoughts left to think
I make my way
the void is frictionle...

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Right/Write Me Now

Right me thus.

Write me this.

Write, to right a wrong.

Write me a poem.

Wrong the line of a song.

For I am forlorn (and want to be adorned).

Write it down.

Right me now.

Write me now.

 

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short poem

There is comfort in the creaking of the stairs

There is comfort in the creaking of the stairs.
Each creak guiding, reminding you of your place
Between the rise and the run
The rhythm within the space.
There is comfort in the creaking of the stairs.

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short poem

Shy Guy

{Shy Guy}

 

 

He was a little bit of

a shy guy who seemed

to keep to himself

besides talking to a

few of his co-workers

where he worked at 

 

 

And as the neighbor

next door to him saw

him all the time he

reminded her of a

cute fuzzy bear that

played in stars wars

called ewok because

his cheeks was

roundish oval shaped

with a some hair ar...

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fearfictional characterfictional piecelifelivingloveOne_Pissed_Off_American_Ghost_Writer/Tina Gloverpoempoetryshort poemshortryTina Gloverwordy queenwriting short poemswriting short poetrywriting short stories

What Is This?

{What Is This?} 

 


What is this game we call life 


And how do you win 


And how do you survive 


And how do you make it out alive


And do we use pawns 


And do we have check mates 


And you say that my heart will do just fine


Or will this game we call life will I make it out alive 


And only in due time will tell me if I shall survive 

 


©Tina Glov...

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blogbloggerblogginglifelivingOne_Pissed_Off_American_Ghost_Writer/Tina GloverPoempoetryshort poemshort poetryshort storiesthinkingTina Gloverwritingwriting out loudwriting short stories

A Cooks Wish

Praise me if you wish

For yesterdays dish

The meal you did not finish

The sauce your spoon would not tarnish

The dinner you did not touch when it was fresh

Saying now this dish smells of Melville's fish

Do not consume the meal when the chef's gone to bed

Pay me no compliments after the dogs are fed

Who wants recognition after they’re trodden;

After they are gallows led?

...

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When I Am A Sleep Or Awake

{When I Am A Sleep Or Awake} 

 

When I am a sleep or awake I dream of you all the same 

 

 

 

©Tina Glover All Rights Reserved/ One_Pissed_Off_American_Ghost_Writer Originally written in 2016 but posting here on February 15,2018 

 

 

 

​​​

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awakedreamdreaminglearninglifelivingOne_Pissed_Off_American_Ghost_Writer/Tina Gloverpoempoetryshort poemshort poetrySleepstoriesTina Gloverwriting

Love should always be fashioned in pairs

Love must never be an alone accessory

Love should always be fashioned in pairs.

For it will then be dressed in loveliness -

and thus be exquisite and most fashionable.

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Ode to night

When the sordid moon drools luscious, raw light,

I am the slice of thunder.

Predisposing,

Permeating

Poisoning the placid night.

A feast of anxiety and malady.

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short poem

Be Still Be Wild

Time is not concrete

Unless we meet

Then it runs free as a child

And all that be still

Be wild

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loveshort poem

Above it all

With my face buried in her hair

And my chest pounding at her breast

I am above the worries of things

Above the money and jewels of kings

Above the common suffering

Above everything

Above it all

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short poem

Autumn Changes Me

Autumn changes me

I grow stiff as a tree

The falling memories

Are piling all around me

And my color changes

Emptying into grey

I feel broken and cold

As the November rain

Turns into December Snow

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Agingpoemshort poem

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