Scribbles 'n Bits

Tag: morning poetry

  • A Most Patient Game

    A quizzical creature bundled down.
Quilted together, cut,
from the same cloth - 
different scissors. 
Warm until tattered,
somehow catching wind.
A tired, musty dry line sagging
and swaying.
Moreover, the unreachable 
often still reach you. 
Crooked, but as usual,
the only one in town.

  • Parasite Obsolete

    A novelty, 
she turns each page
with as much emotion as she reads. 
Petals pressed, feathers caught, 
stories from the back of the book;
pages no one else sees.
A leak in performance
held by drying wrinkles. 
I stared at each word so long,
clinging for dear life
to everything she whispered,
the slow march of typeface
across skin. 
Dangling by fear and craving
off the sidewalk’s end.

  • Honest Tea

    Of all the colors counting
my favorite one is you. 
I couldn't be more happy
if all the snacks were blue.
Statistically speaking - tongue tied - 
vomiting words, 
but all completely true.

  • you my

    My mind buzzes over you.
No use hiding from the truth.
I hope it’s coming,
what we’ve got coming - 
I need it. 
I need to feel inside,
a castle on the hill
with faces in the vines. 
I need you. 


No use hiding every night.
I see something in your eyes.
If you’re not something, 
I’ve got nothing. 
I need it. 
Fuel the fire inside 
a wood burned stove 
with glassy eyed cries. 
I need you. 


I don’t know where time has gone.
Last I seen, it up and run. 
Ah, but nothing,
it’s all nothing. 
I don’t need it. 
A crumbling tide. 
The house fell down, 
nobody inside. 
I need you. 

I need you.

  • Plea Bargain

    To the editor, 

I read the signs:
many long books,
reflections high and low.
For a great fear,
a life without, alone.
Madam, I confess,
of my journey
far and less;
of stars and streams alike. 
Nothing helped me see.
Not the sun behind her, 
burning in her amber eyes
or words within set free. 
I implore you,
find the will.

Maybe not a happy ending,
but an ending even still.