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Two Poems from our Narrative Poetry Collection
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| I ONCE BELIEVED I LOVED MYSELF |
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| Author: |
Wendy Carson
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| Poem: |
I ONCE BELIEVED I LOVED MYSELF
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Please.
I beg you on my knees
Forgive these pleas
I lay before you.
Didn’t mean to.
Through
And through
It grew.
You see,
I have a disease.
Mistaken.
I was taken.
How I perceive it?
A victim, I sit;
Wants to reawaken,
But is shaken
A bit.
He came.
To help a dame
Or perhaps
It’s a trap.
His game.
To unattainable fame.
A toy
To the boy
I became.
My flame
Turned to fire,
With desire
To live,
Not expire.
Some hope
To help cope
With the emptiness I grope.
Caress
Away the sadness.
Fake gladness
Thus appears;
No more fears,
Suppress the tears.
Cheers!
Clinking of the glasses
Absorbed within the masses;
A manic scene
Like Jack’s magic bean.
It surpasses.
So many faces.
Different places
To flow
And feel the glow.
It chases,
The juice after gin.
I grin.
My mind races
To and fro.
Spin!
I hear laughter.
They think I’m funny?
“One more rummy!”
I’m not a disaster?
I should drink faster,
I’m not a dummy.
Oh, how I giggle,
My head thrown back
A beat off track.
I crack.
The booze makes me wiggle
And jiggle.
I feel free;
No more morals for me.
You see,
Conceptualization is gone.
Not for long.
Just until I reach sobriety,
But I’m not sure when that will be
For me.
Time for something new.
This present high,
It gets by.
But now I really want to fly.
“Hey you!”
Hey would cry,
“What can I get for a bill times two?”
I hadn’t a clue,
This is true.
I don’t pry,
Just drive.
The man in black
Slides in the back
Pulling out his bag of crack.
A fair trade.
The man is paid.
My pulse is beating fast.
How much time has passed?
The man becomes a fade,
I hit the gas.
Oh, at last!
How it is so sweet;
Such a treat.
I can’t wait
For a taste.
I don’t hesitate.
Parking on the side of the street
I reach
Out to the silver pipe,
Filling it with sparkling rock.
It looks so ripe,
I gripe.
It’s suck a crock,
But,
I’m stuck.
Light, suck,
Slowly.
The gem drained wholly.
Hold and *blip*
I flip
On a trip.
Change,
I’m so out of range.
Everything sounds trapped.
Rap, rap, rap
What’s that?
Drowning in my own euphoric bliss,
This
I do not miss.
Tsk, Tsk.
Now it’s quiet.
“Here, you try it,”
I say to him,
My so-called friend.
I wish this were the end.
But it’s not.
I cannot stop.
Only bend
To defend
My uncontrollable want.
An urge
I wish I could purge,
Yet I cannot.
So please,
I beg you on my knees
For forgiveness.
A bless,
From you to me.
I feel helpless.
You see,
I have a disease.
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More Narrative poems |
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| NOW WE ARE ALL FAMOUS |
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| Author: |
Eric White
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| Poem: |
NOW WE ARE ALL FAMOUS |
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Flipping from station to station Stop when we see A child screaming You can hear the piercing noise In surround sound A sap in her brain Its in widescreen We have a laugh Off to the next moment Standing on a corner Reading a newspaper We’re losing attention Its happening so rapidly Suddenly a knife Plunges in his neck Our hearts beat faster The seeds of smiles Soon bloom Blood gushes as do we With cheers ‘Gimme a high-five’ Slap-slap go our palms Need another hit A bloody nose appears Not on the screen But on our faces Fists fly And we get high Chuckles Drained in sadism Strained with masochism Love-love-loving These technological paraphilias We accidentally kill God As T.V. falls from His stand
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