Search
  • Leann Sterling

Poetry Collection

Poetry


I usually like writing,

But I don’t like writing poems.


The problem with poems, I think

is that they are entirely too

honest.





Confusion


Those first words,

Simple, at first, then more,

Some thick, demanding attention,

Others leaning into the touch of another but never

quite

meeting.

All swirling, moving,

Losing all meaning the longer I


Watch time tick on,

Second by second,

Minute by minute,

Tick, tick, tick, a g o n i z i n g l y s l o w, then,

in a blink,

over,

Nothing left but a


Blank set of pages, but when you look,

There are words, so many words,

Thick words on thin paper,

Clumsy fingers fumbling to find something,

anything,

to explain it.

Words hard and


Soft, gentle, beckoning,

But smothering,

Like the lie of a whispered ‘I love you’,

All smiles,

And comfort,

And suddenly,

gone.





Winter


In the cold and white

a dead angel lies in snow

its body long gone





Why are you so Angry?


Why

are you

so

Angry?

Why do you care

if I like boys

or girls

or neither

or both?

Why does it matter

if I want to be called she

or he

Or they?


Why

are you

so

angry?

Does it affect you

if I wear my hair

short

or long?

How will it hurt you

if I dress up

and wear makeup

then stay inside and play games?


Why

are you

so

angry?

I just

don’t

get it.

I’m the one who should be angry

that you don’t want me

to be me.


7 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All