<![CDATA[Poetry Forum - Basic critique]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/ Thu, 16 Apr 2026 07:00:32 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Drowning]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27287.html Tue, 07 Apr 2026 15:57:35 +0000 MalingeringDove]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27287.html         Why is there so much blood?
              This is simply too much blood.
Running down her throat
        and out of her mouth
                from overfilled lungs
                    onto the floor, the plagued
Nile quickly draining out
        too weak to resist as the body
                begins to swallow itself.

Gurgling wet whimpers
        bubble to the surface
          as I siphon liters
            of blood and marbled clots
                  into a bucket.

Both of us unsure
          how we got here
                  or how to get out.
I hope my eyes
            can speak loud enough
                  to tell you I’m sorry
                        I got us so lost.

They’re all rushing in now.


Eyes bulging
    like a bunny
      caught by a fox
        unable to move
          or speak. Forced
To silently scream,
    staring at the little
      white lies leaving
        my lips
drenched in bright red blood.


I am very new to poetry and have been writing for about a month. All criticism welcome so I can progress. Ty]]>         Why is there so much blood?
              This is simply too much blood.
Running down her throat
        and out of her mouth
                from overfilled lungs
                    onto the floor, the plagued
Nile quickly draining out
        too weak to resist as the body
                begins to swallow itself.

Gurgling wet whimpers
        bubble to the surface
          as I siphon liters
            of blood and marbled clots
                  into a bucket.

Both of us unsure
          how we got here
                  or how to get out.
I hope my eyes
            can speak loud enough
                  to tell you I’m sorry
                        I got us so lost.

They’re all rushing in now.


Eyes bulging
    like a bunny
      caught by a fox
        unable to move
          or speak. Forced
To silently scream,
    staring at the little
      white lies leaving
        my lips
drenched in bright red blood.


I am very new to poetry and have been writing for about a month. All criticism welcome so I can progress. Ty]]> <![CDATA[Ode To MP3 Players]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27285.html Mon, 06 Apr 2026 23:10:33 +0000 jaw_me]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27285.html Ode To MP3 Players


and cheap chinese speakers
intoning soullessly 'bluetooth device
is connected successfully'


I realized that a song always smells
like the first place your ears caught it
burning. A song always smells like
the breath of someone else


and it's a kind of magic
isn't it? to lift a song in
and out of your back pocket


to slap it like a band-aid,
over an open wound, over broken glass
to taste it like fresh heartbreak
on a monday morning, like orange molasses
steeped too long in sunlight
]]> Ode To MP3 Players


and cheap chinese speakers
intoning soullessly 'bluetooth device
is connected successfully'


I realized that a song always smells
like the first place your ears caught it
burning. A song always smells like
the breath of someone else


and it's a kind of magic
isn't it? to lift a song in
and out of your back pocket


to slap it like a band-aid,
over an open wound, over broken glass
to taste it like fresh heartbreak
on a monday morning, like orange molasses
steeped too long in sunlight
]]> <![CDATA[Welcome to my world of optimism]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27275.html Thu, 02 Apr 2026 17:54:59 +0000 Smiley]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27275.html In my head
They have all been feed
We share our bread
A dream I for so long have had
Erasing all that is bad
Enough of things that makes us sad
I wanna shed some light upon that last line.. many have talked about becoming wise becuse of learned mistakes and that there is no light without darkness to compare with. IMO, joy teaches too. Otherwise, death is enough to appreciate life. I call this "beautiful darkness" and i colleced tears that i give to God Almighty. But i save the happy ones in a bottle i gave to my mother and i *pling* on it in my head, every time i cry those (its a secret practice) Wink And speaking of tears, i believe they cleanse the soul Smile]]> In my head
They have all been feed
We share our bread
A dream I for so long have had
Erasing all that is bad
Enough of things that makes us sad
I wanna shed some light upon that last line.. many have talked about becoming wise becuse of learned mistakes and that there is no light without darkness to compare with. IMO, joy teaches too. Otherwise, death is enough to appreciate life. I call this "beautiful darkness" and i colleced tears that i give to God Almighty. But i save the happy ones in a bottle i gave to my mother and i *pling* on it in my head, every time i cry those (its a secret practice) Wink And speaking of tears, i believe they cleanse the soul Smile]]> <![CDATA[falling for your bluff.]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27263.html Thu, 26 Mar 2026 23:45:07 +0000 jeanelyking]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27263.html falling for your bluff.

my descent arose
in the dive i made falling for you.
the further i fell,
the less of myself i held onto.

ribs strained to make room
for rancour i’d accrue.
naïvely praying someday,
my rest would soon ensue.

but through it all, you threw
all debris on me to bear.
every added ounce
left me further frayed with wear.

rifts and tears flayed the place
my heart used to be.
severed from the sleeve
that anchored me to the belief

that one day, the pain would pay off,
and the games you’d play
would wither away,
and i could finally stay off

the edge of this bluff
i’d hung so high from.
this hill i’d willingly die on.

mounted close to commune
with clouds we’d lain under,
i was now left to wonder
whether they’d extend the grace
of saving me at all.

at last, began to grasp
the cranes in our sky
only heightened my fall.

and you’d have the gall
to just watch me unravel.

i held on for our life, my dear.
yet still wallow in the gravel
of your grave mistakes.

[i have never written a poem before but i've been going through it lately lol and i ended up writing this, feedback would be greatly appreciated Smile]


falling for your bluff.

my descent arose
in the dive i made falling for you.
the further i fell,
the less of myself i held onto.

ribs strained to make room
for rancour i never outgrew.
naïvely praying someday,
my rest would ring due.

but through it all, you threw all
burdens on me to bear.
every added ounce
left me more worn with wear.

rifts and tears were left
where my heart used to be.
severed from the sleeve
that anchored me

to the belief
that one day, the pain would pay off,
and the games you'd play
would wither away,
and i could finally stay off

the edge of this bluff
i'd hung so high from.
this hill i'd willingly die on.

now mounted close to commune
with clouds we had laid under,
i was left to wonder
whether they'd extend the grace
of saving me at all.

at last, began to grasp
the cranes in our sky
would only deepen my fall.

and you'd have the gall to just watch it unravel.

i held on for our life, my dear.
yet still wallow in the gravel 
of your grave mistakes. 
]]> falling for your bluff.

my descent arose
in the dive i made falling for you.
the further i fell,
the less of myself i held onto.

ribs strained to make room
for rancour i’d accrue.
naïvely praying someday,
my rest would soon ensue.

but through it all, you threw
all debris on me to bear.
every added ounce
left me further frayed with wear.

rifts and tears flayed the place
my heart used to be.
severed from the sleeve
that anchored me to the belief

that one day, the pain would pay off,
and the games you’d play
would wither away,
and i could finally stay off

the edge of this bluff
i’d hung so high from.
this hill i’d willingly die on.

mounted close to commune
with clouds we’d lain under,
i was now left to wonder
whether they’d extend the grace
of saving me at all.

at last, began to grasp
the cranes in our sky
only heightened my fall.

and you’d have the gall
to just watch me unravel.

i held on for our life, my dear.
yet still wallow in the gravel
of your grave mistakes.

[i have never written a poem before but i've been going through it lately lol and i ended up writing this, feedback would be greatly appreciated Smile]


falling for your bluff.

my descent arose
in the dive i made falling for you.
the further i fell,
the less of myself i held onto.

ribs strained to make room
for rancour i never outgrew.
naïvely praying someday,
my rest would ring due.

but through it all, you threw all
burdens on me to bear.
every added ounce
left me more worn with wear.

rifts and tears were left
where my heart used to be.
severed from the sleeve
that anchored me

to the belief
that one day, the pain would pay off,
and the games you'd play
would wither away,
and i could finally stay off

the edge of this bluff
i'd hung so high from.
this hill i'd willingly die on.

now mounted close to commune
with clouds we had laid under,
i was left to wonder
whether they'd extend the grace
of saving me at all.

at last, began to grasp
the cranes in our sky
would only deepen my fall.

and you'd have the gall to just watch it unravel.

i held on for our life, my dear.
yet still wallow in the gravel 
of your grave mistakes. 
]]> <![CDATA[Well wishes]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27254.html Wed, 18 Mar 2026 22:49:10 +0000 Smiley]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27254.html A poetic potion 

Flows with emotion

With Peace love and happiness

This is how i bless

My secret confess

No more pain or stress



I wish them all things good

I would feed them all if i could

Make everything to be as it should]]> A poetic potion 

Flows with emotion

With Peace love and happiness

This is how i bless

My secret confess

No more pain or stress



I wish them all things good

I would feed them all if i could

Make everything to be as it should]]> <![CDATA[Two Squares and a Mule]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27209.html Mon, 09 Mar 2026 04:58:53 +0000 ilovewomenandbeer]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27209.html Two Squares and a Mule

White plays first—
the hand that reaches down,

Checked—
cheating Black with a bishop.

Black pawn, patient, escapes—
claims two squares and a mule.

For eight ranks—
a humble start.

He finds solace as shackled feet trudge,
posts out of line
with his brothers.

The leader blows—
a wooden whistle.

The kingless castling comes
as white drives his herd forward—

they come howling.

Clubbed Knight posts poised,
fearless against a mob.

The reverend’s pale rage
posts adjacent—
an evangelical threat.

The pawn stabs the angel—
turning pale
as she faces the mob.

This time white does not reach or wait.

Paleness chases.

Every piece stumbles.

Captured.

Black groans—
his tightened chains
no longer bind him to a board
as he’s led to the post.

White takes a whip,
cracks the naked knight.

A fiery torch rises nearby.

As white prepares to sell,
clutching their breeches—
pale hands weighing silver.

The mob—
a howling herd.

Some wear horns, some wear cones—
but all are pale.

Black waits patiently,
watching the swaying flame—

its crimson glow lingers
like the raw, pale runaway
on his neck.

The bold pawn is raised.

His wife resists
as they rip the chains from her wrists.

The pale name the price
and haggle her lower—

“Oh lame, oh lame,” they say.

Sold.

Pale weeps fall—
“I do”
in guilty tears.

The Best Man—
as tall as a pine,
swole as an ox,
the same marking burned on his neck.

They haggle.

His brother cries openly, unpoised—
pleading, anguished tears,
then restful, rolling eyes.

White remarks:

“This ox is smart—
he can raise your posts, pull your wagons as a spare.
Two legs and two stubs,
but those nubs could be hooves
if you give him a pulley to trudge.”

Neck chained—
hooves scrape.

He chokes
as he's dredged astray—
down the line.

Sold.

Darkness falls.

The mob is gone.

Sooted, scrawny, shaken—
the reverend sees the pawn as a spare.

So the reverend
raises him to a tree.

As the pawn looks down the pine
the pale wooden board below—

never becomes a queen.

Captured.

Kingless checkmate.]]> Two Squares and a Mule

White plays first—
the hand that reaches down,

Checked—
cheating Black with a bishop.

Black pawn, patient, escapes—
claims two squares and a mule.

For eight ranks—
a humble start.

He finds solace as shackled feet trudge,
posts out of line
with his brothers.

The leader blows—
a wooden whistle.

The kingless castling comes
as white drives his herd forward—

they come howling.

Clubbed Knight posts poised,
fearless against a mob.

The reverend’s pale rage
posts adjacent—
an evangelical threat.

The pawn stabs the angel—
turning pale
as she faces the mob.

This time white does not reach or wait.

Paleness chases.

Every piece stumbles.

Captured.

Black groans—
his tightened chains
no longer bind him to a board
as he’s led to the post.

White takes a whip,
cracks the naked knight.

A fiery torch rises nearby.

As white prepares to sell,
clutching their breeches—
pale hands weighing silver.

The mob—
a howling herd.

Some wear horns, some wear cones—
but all are pale.

Black waits patiently,
watching the swaying flame—

its crimson glow lingers
like the raw, pale runaway
on his neck.

The bold pawn is raised.

His wife resists
as they rip the chains from her wrists.

The pale name the price
and haggle her lower—

“Oh lame, oh lame,” they say.

Sold.

Pale weeps fall—
“I do”
in guilty tears.

The Best Man—
as tall as a pine,
swole as an ox,
the same marking burned on his neck.

They haggle.

His brother cries openly, unpoised—
pleading, anguished tears,
then restful, rolling eyes.

White remarks:

“This ox is smart—
he can raise your posts, pull your wagons as a spare.
Two legs and two stubs,
but those nubs could be hooves
if you give him a pulley to trudge.”

Neck chained—
hooves scrape.

He chokes
as he's dredged astray—
down the line.

Sold.

Darkness falls.

The mob is gone.

Sooted, scrawny, shaken—
the reverend sees the pawn as a spare.

So the reverend
raises him to a tree.

As the pawn looks down the pine
the pale wooden board below—

never becomes a queen.

Captured.

Kingless checkmate.]]> <![CDATA[Directing arousal]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27205.html Sun, 08 Mar 2026 10:48:26 +0000 Smiley]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27205.html Straight from source
Given a course]]> Straight from source
Given a course]]> <![CDATA[My English class is having a poetry competition and id like an opinion]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27200.html Fri, 06 Mar 2026 16:39:27 +0000 ilovewomenandbeer]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27200.html Please let me know if there is anything i should improve :} big hug

Gunslinger’s Slumber
Smoky air with burnt tastes of death
fills the room with the bitter scent of gunpowder.
As easily seen in a fortune-teller’s tale,
it puts an old gunslinger’s mind uneasy.
Startling chambers, sheets and drapes unfold
where there are knots and static lightning.
Out of slumber, slight and unencumbered,
to draw at the sound of thunder.
There’s smoky air with burnt tastes of death
that fills the room with the bitter scent of gunpowder.
Now the gunslinger’s sly and superstitious.
He knows, as a prideful sinner,
to rely on a rosary and lie on the word.
The reverend’s clutch was grime as lye.
Quick and swift, let out six—
two holes above the gunslinger’s brim.
Stiff as a board they stand;
one awaits the other’s slumber.
Out of slumber, slight and unencumbered,
to draw at the sound of thunder.
Five to make a star, with one in the middle—
evenly a better shot.
One badge, one heart.
The gunslinger’s cocked hat bleeds.
A rodent with holes, a maiden shook,
and the pope left with gnashing teeth.
He laid back into his knotted sheet
and gnawed his wheat.
As his home filled with smoky air,
burnt tastes of death filled the room
with the bitter scent of gunpowder.
i don't know how to delete sorry i posted twice.]]> Please let me know if there is anything i should improve :} big hug

Gunslinger’s Slumber
Smoky air with burnt tastes of death
fills the room with the bitter scent of gunpowder.
As easily seen in a fortune-teller’s tale,
it puts an old gunslinger’s mind uneasy.
Startling chambers, sheets and drapes unfold
where there are knots and static lightning.
Out of slumber, slight and unencumbered,
to draw at the sound of thunder.
There’s smoky air with burnt tastes of death
that fills the room with the bitter scent of gunpowder.
Now the gunslinger’s sly and superstitious.
He knows, as a prideful sinner,
to rely on a rosary and lie on the word.
The reverend’s clutch was grime as lye.
Quick and swift, let out six—
two holes above the gunslinger’s brim.
Stiff as a board they stand;
one awaits the other’s slumber.
Out of slumber, slight and unencumbered,
to draw at the sound of thunder.
Five to make a star, with one in the middle—
evenly a better shot.
One badge, one heart.
The gunslinger’s cocked hat bleeds.
A rodent with holes, a maiden shook,
and the pope left with gnashing teeth.
He laid back into his knotted sheet
and gnawed his wheat.
As his home filled with smoky air,
burnt tastes of death filled the room
with the bitter scent of gunpowder.
i don't know how to delete sorry i posted twice.]]> <![CDATA[Personal Poetic Purpose]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27175.html Fri, 27 Feb 2026 15:43:16 +0000 Quicksilver]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27175.html Presentations in polite phrases
Pointing, per prolonged prognostication,
To public problems
Or, perhaps, plain, prosaic pride

Plaguing a populace
Via pithy profundity performance
Pills, per prideful prescription
Pressure-cooked pursuing pinnacles of personhood
But plaque-filled, and puddle-deep
Preachily screeching personal politics
Purpose-built, passive, performative shit

Per contra
Putting aside pleasant phrase-play
Words woven in crystalline lattices
Prismatic in both directions,
Internally transformative
Hopefully meaningful
Promoting phase-changes in attitude
Provoking a thought that would not be

That is my deep-well reason
Plain personal purpose
Of poetry]]> Presentations in polite phrases
Pointing, per prolonged prognostication,
To public problems
Or, perhaps, plain, prosaic pride

Plaguing a populace
Via pithy profundity performance
Pills, per prideful prescription
Pressure-cooked pursuing pinnacles of personhood
But plaque-filled, and puddle-deep
Preachily screeching personal politics
Purpose-built, passive, performative shit

Per contra
Putting aside pleasant phrase-play
Words woven in crystalline lattices
Prismatic in both directions,
Internally transformative
Hopefully meaningful
Promoting phase-changes in attitude
Provoking a thought that would not be

That is my deep-well reason
Plain personal purpose
Of poetry]]> <![CDATA[The second train of thought]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27170.html Thu, 26 Feb 2026 00:33:41 +0000 Smiley]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27170.html Whilst sitting here at home
Again this time
I write it in rhyme
Waiting for inspiration
That will unite every land and nation
I want world peace, thats all
I heard Gods call

Becuse, thats important to me
To live happy and free
Self development is the key
Against the powers that be
Also love, love and more love, you see
Im pouring my heart out
Thats what this is about
Fun  Smile  what do yall think? I wrote with blood as my ink.]]> Whilst sitting here at home
Again this time
I write it in rhyme
Waiting for inspiration
That will unite every land and nation
I want world peace, thats all
I heard Gods call

Becuse, thats important to me
To live happy and free
Self development is the key
Against the powers that be
Also love, love and more love, you see
Im pouring my heart out
Thats what this is about
Fun  Smile  what do yall think? I wrote with blood as my ink.]]> <![CDATA[Silver Lining]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27166.html Tue, 24 Feb 2026 15:02:40 +0000 wizzpower]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27166.html
Just a lil short poem that i wrote to test the waters of this forum
I have written some poems already but id just like to post smth simple first

Silver lining

today is a cloudy day

the sun is obscured
the world is tinted gray
but i stay inside anyways

the stars are covered
dimming the night sky
but i was sleeping anyways

:edit: pretty new to this so messed up abit of formatting


I tired improving it. hopefully its better

Silver Lining

yesterday was a sunny day

the sky was void of clouds
sunbeams flooding the nearby fields
but i was going home anyways

today was a cloudy day

cool crisp air like a blanket
the world was tinted grey
but i was staying inside anyways

tonight is a rainy night

dripping clouds dissolve
unveiling the sparkling stars

tucked in my sheets
tossing and turning

but i was sleeping anyways]]>
Just a lil short poem that i wrote to test the waters of this forum
I have written some poems already but id just like to post smth simple first

Silver lining

today is a cloudy day

the sun is obscured
the world is tinted gray
but i stay inside anyways

the stars are covered
dimming the night sky
but i was sleeping anyways

:edit: pretty new to this so messed up abit of formatting


I tired improving it. hopefully its better

Silver Lining

yesterday was a sunny day

the sky was void of clouds
sunbeams flooding the nearby fields
but i was going home anyways

today was a cloudy day

cool crisp air like a blanket
the world was tinted grey
but i was staying inside anyways

tonight is a rainy night

dripping clouds dissolve
unveiling the sparkling stars

tucked in my sheets
tossing and turning

but i was sleeping anyways]]> <![CDATA[Short poem]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27155.html Fri, 20 Feb 2026 14:36:38 +0000 JohnS]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27155.html
Contentment comes not in the catch
but in the breathless chase,
the hope that never dies.
In how we rise each time we fall,
believing something beautiful
lies beyond the next new dawn.]]>
Contentment comes not in the catch
but in the breathless chase,
the hope that never dies.
In how we rise each time we fall,
believing something beautiful
lies beyond the next new dawn.]]> <![CDATA[A train of thought]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27154.html Thu, 19 Feb 2026 22:29:14 +0000 Smiley]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27154.html Im sitting alone at home
Thinking of a poem
Tryin to come up with something good
I want to be understood
So I search I align and allow
For inspiration to come to me but i dont know how
Touching something sacred and reaching for the soul
That is my point that Is my goal

Not lonely thou i am alone
Cuz we are all connected we are all one
So lets get it good lets have some fun
And melt like butter in the sun
Create and share
About that which we care
Im thinking world peace
Arriving with ease]]> Im sitting alone at home
Thinking of a poem
Tryin to come up with something good
I want to be understood
So I search I align and allow
For inspiration to come to me but i dont know how
Touching something sacred and reaching for the soul
That is my point that Is my goal

Not lonely thou i am alone
Cuz we are all connected we are all one
So lets get it good lets have some fun
And melt like butter in the sun
Create and share
About that which we care
Im thinking world peace
Arriving with ease]]> <![CDATA[This is when it hurts]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27150.html Tue, 17 Feb 2026 13:34:57 +0000 JohnS]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27150.html I think it needs an ending, and probably many other things too!
Have at it!




Her coffee cup sits lonely on the counter
Its lipstick kiss still smiles at me
The kitchen clock ticks round and round without her
This is when it hurts


Not in the knock down drag out fight
Not in the angry scream and shout
But on a quiet Sunday morning
As the bright new day is dawning
This is when it hurts


Her laughter used to fill this room
Now silence takes its place
I turn around to talk to her
And find an empty space
This is when it hurts]]> I think it needs an ending, and probably many other things too!
Have at it!




Her coffee cup sits lonely on the counter
Its lipstick kiss still smiles at me
The kitchen clock ticks round and round without her
This is when it hurts


Not in the knock down drag out fight
Not in the angry scream and shout
But on a quiet Sunday morning
As the bright new day is dawning
This is when it hurts


Her laughter used to fill this room
Now silence takes its place
I turn around to talk to her
And find an empty space
This is when it hurts]]> <![CDATA[Nonetheless (title change) edit 0.2]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27147.html Sun, 15 Feb 2026 14:00:18 +0000 wasellajam]]> https://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-27147.html
I smile at the sound
of your laughter.
The TV is streaming
in the background,
our phones are channeled
directly to our ears, open
laptops gently tapping.

I’m content not to know
what made you blurt Whoa!
or chuckle or poke your phone
in frustration. I am listening
to last night’s concert
and writing a poem.

I watch you stoke the fire.
It’s fine.


Laughing Into The Abyss (edit 0.1)

I smile at the sound
of your laughter.
The TV is streaming
in the background,
our phones are channeled
directly to our ears, open
laptops gently tapping.

I’m content not to know
what made you blurt Whoa!
or chuckle or poke your phone
in frustration. I am listening
to last night’s concert
and writing a poem.

I watch you stoke the fire.
It’s fine.

(Still searching for a new title)


Laughing Into The Abyss

I smile at the sound
of your laughter.
The TV is streaming
in the background,
our phones are channeled
directly to our ears, open
laptops gently tapping.

I’m content to not know
what made you blurt Whoa!
or chuckle or tap at your phone
in frustration. I am listening
to last night’s concert
and writing a poem.

I watch you stoke the fire.
It’s fine.

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I smile at the sound
of your laughter.
The TV is streaming
in the background,
our phones are channeled
directly to our ears, open
laptops gently tapping.

I’m content not to know
what made you blurt Whoa!
or chuckle or poke your phone
in frustration. I am listening
to last night’s concert
and writing a poem.

I watch you stoke the fire.
It’s fine.


Laughing Into The Abyss (edit 0.1)

I smile at the sound
of your laughter.
The TV is streaming
in the background,
our phones are channeled
directly to our ears, open
laptops gently tapping.

I’m content not to know
what made you blurt Whoa!
or chuckle or poke your phone
in frustration. I am listening
to last night’s concert
and writing a poem.

I watch you stoke the fire.
It’s fine.

(Still searching for a new title)


Laughing Into The Abyss

I smile at the sound
of your laughter.
The TV is streaming
in the background,
our phones are channeled
directly to our ears, open
laptops gently tapping.

I’m content to not know
what made you blurt Whoa!
or chuckle or tap at your phone
in frustration. I am listening
to last night’s concert
and writing a poem.

I watch you stoke the fire.
It’s fine.

]]>