#265
Fevered teenage bohemian
daydreams. The mismatched
furniture, cheap wines
in tea cup,
exhausting evenings with crackling
records, rain and wind on windowpanes,
and constant quotes from poets
and wordsmiths we admire.
Laughter, hidden tears and a
silent recognition that those
fleeting moments, and brief brotherhoods
are exactly what we wanted.
Like those perfect sunsets, we
can only appreciate them as they
pass, slipping quick
through our desperate fingertips.
#266
Watching the water,
sitting like i’m Otis Redding,
i’m all too ready,
and not too patient.
Still that breeze is beautiful
and the rain clouds
look like their passing,
while theres still uncertainty
theres still a lot of hope
#267
That heavenly light
too bright to focus
too powerful for my
sinful blues, staring
at the Sun and i’m
forced to throw my gaze.
We pretend to know what
we want, but when it’s
glaring right at us, it
feels like it’s gunning us down,
and we cower, we hide.
#268
Alone in the park
smashing bitter beer on a bench
watching the gorgeous locals exercise,
so i’ve become.
#269
Those young ones,
thats the problem.
i said this, i’ve actually
uttered it a few times,
to different people!
i’ve become something
i know i shouldn’t like
but i can’t help feeling
completely comfortable with.
i’m slightly ashamed
of the change, but becoming
more saddened by
what i was. You can
never go back, and for god-sake,
why would you?
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write