You have to stop skydiving
Into my heart.
Ok, no, don’t stop,
it’s amazing, but
Picture this:
I am a haystack,
and you are on fire
Picture this:
I am the eight ball
and you are a pool shark
Picture this:
I am the chowder,
you are the spoon
But I can’t seem to paint you
Even with words –
Your eyes have no parachute,
no ripcord, no harness
and I don’t know how to color
in freefall.
For April Poem-a-Day
Great title! This is a cleverly crafted poem, q.
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Your eyes have no parachute,
no ripcord, no harness
Ahem. Fantastic. Nice piece. Sorry, very English of me. Great piece. Loved it.
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Thanks Sarah!
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I love the way you formatted your poem. The center section is like the mindless mindfulness I imagine a person entering before pulling the ripcord — watching the earth hurtle up toward you terrifyingly. Actually, the whole skydive thing puts me in a sweat, but your poem works beautifully.
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LOLOL! Thanks! I was kind of terrified by the whole skydiving thing too! And being chowder.
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Better chowder than bisque. … well, maybe.
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Excellent piece. I completely understand what you’re trying to convey.
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