Categories
Poetry Monster

Why

Why?

You’ve asked me already.

Yet you want to know.

What need have you to question

Everything I say and do?

Being conventional is overrated.

Why? you ask. Because

I must be myself. Do I

Tell you to learn to play

An Instrument that no

One has heard of?

The answer is no.

What’s the point?

You want to know now.

I’ll tell you the point.

The point is,

Stop asking me why.


From: 


Alex Gross


Categories
Poetry Monster

Where Are You

Where Are You?

This is the time when I text you

I’m bored in this hallway all alone.

I need to see your familiar smiley face emoticon

But you’re not here,

Where Are You?

This is the time when you call me.

I hear your little voice:

“We’re here, Alex, I Love You.”

But now all I hear is the emptiness,

The quiet that could kill a man.

Because you’re not here,

Where are you?

This is the time when I teach you.

Mom has been giving me hell.

“Don’t be like me, Sis.” I tell you.

“Maybe you still have a chance at

Being what they want.”

You are what they want,

Everybody wants you.

That is when you’re here,

Where are you?

This is the time when I protect you.

The kids at school have been giving you hell

Again.

I tell you the stories of when I wore those shoes.

One of them goes too far,

I threaten him, I know how to scare young children.

I take you away, dry your tears.

Tell you it will be okay.

When you come back,

Where are you?

Mom is mad at you again.

She puts way too much pressure on you.

I know better than anyone.

You messed up again, like we all do

It’s not Mom’s fault that she forgot what it’s like.

That tends to happen when you destroy yourself as she did in mothering us.

Actually it was I who destroyed her,

You were the Miracle Baby.

But she forgot, nothing personal.

It’s because you’ve been here so long.

But not now, so tell me

Where are you?


From: 


Alex Gross


Categories
Poetry Monster

Tell Me

Tell Me

Don’t walk away from me.

I’m trying to talk to you.

I know what you’re feeling,

But I don’t know what is

Going on in your head.

Please tell me.

It’s obvious I’ve upset you,

So don’t pretend I haven’t.

I know you well enough

To know when you’re lying.

If you don’t tell me what

It was that I did,

I can’t change it.

So tell me.


From: 


Alex Gross


Categories
Poetry Monster

Teacher

Teacher

I remember when I feared you. I

Always thought I was inferior,

And that sooner or later, you would

Find out.

I remember when I distrusted you.

I always thought I was wrong in some

Way. And that sooner or later, you would

Find out.

I remember when I worshipped you. I

Thought you had all the answers. I

Had all the questions. I knew that

You would find out.

Now, I respect you. I know that you

Don’t have all the answers. You don’t

Live to expose my insecurities. You

Want to improve me, so that I am not

Inferior. Well, you’ve found out.


From: 


Alex Gross


Categories
Poetry Monster

Sleep

Sleep

I’m waiting for you to come to me.

I’ve done everything in my power

To Please you. It’s cold, and dark, just

Like you like it. Now why

Don’t you come to me?

It’s four AM and I feel like shit.

This is when I want you the most.

I keep trying to fix my minor discomforts

In the hope that you will have a change

Of Heart. But you don’t, nor do you come to me.

I step out into the hallway. I

Turn the corner, into the bathroom.

I let the cactus-needle water wash over me.

I hear the ocean coming from my bedroom.

How ridiculous is that?

It’s the lack of you which makes me hear things.

But that won’t make you come to me.

You come to me at your convenience.

It appears it’s daybreak, and I

Must go to school. Why, if I may,

Do you insist on torturing me so?

I did nothing to you. I don’t believe

In caffeine, or cocaine, or anything like it.

I suppose, like Santa Claus, you must

See everybody every night.

I’ve been nice, have I not?

So for God’s sake, come to me!

I don’t wish to medicate myself.

It interrupts my creative flow.

God knows, every therepist has written me

Some scrip or another.

I’d rather suffer than poison myself.

I would reason with you instead.

But, you give me no choice.

I know how to make you come to me.


From: 


Alex Gross


Categories
Poetry Monster

Ode To A Harmonica

Ode to a Harmonica

I love you, Janis,

Because my lips go with you so naturally.

I never regret kissing you,

Bercause I know that you

Have felt my kiss alone.

You were made for my kiss.

I love you Janis,

Because your body was made for me.

Your body fits in my

Hand, perfectly. When I rub

My hand across your smooth surface

It feels natural.

People sometimes say that you’re too big,

Or that you’re obnoxious.

To that, I say, “fuck ’em”.

You were made for my touch.

I love you Janis,

Because of your beautiful singing voice.

Your voice is always pure and perfect.

It matters not what note you try to hit.

Maybe your sisters are more famous singers,

But I say, you outdo any of them.

I also love it that you only sing for me.

Your beautiful voice was made for me.

I love you Janis,

Because you provide companionship

In the darkest hour.

You are always there for me, no

Matter what I’ve done.

You always make me feel better.

People can keep their chocolate,

And their beer, because I’ve got something better.

Your loyalty was made for me.

I love you Janis,

Because you are.

Nothing could make me forget you.

I may move on to others,

But you will always be my first.

Nothing will ever change that.

My Janis.

You were made for me.


From: 


Alex Gross


Categories
Poetry Monster

Intruder

Intruder

Innocent little girl walking.

She is preoccupied, at the moment with

An enigma which plagues all young girls

At a point. Which Barbie Doll do I want?

Another thought enters her head:

What’s for dinner?

Then:

What’s on TV tonight?

She goes on her merry way.

Along comes the intruder.

“Kill your father” it says.

The girl faces the intruder

Head-on.

“No” she says.

The intruder goes away.

But he doesn’t.

It plagues the little girl’s mind.

She can’t get away from it, no matter

What.

She can’t look at her father

Without being filled with fear.

The intruder visits her every day.

Sometimes, it says “Kill your

Brother” or some other.

Sometimes, it tells her to burn the

American flag, or a crucifix.

Sometimes, it wants her to hump that

Dog’s leg instead of him doing it to some human.

Finally’ the intruder becomes too much.

The intruder has visited every one.

It’s only the people who listen to it; the

Innocent little girls Of the world

Who pay any mind to it.

The thing is, those little girls don’t

Do what the intruder says, they

Take their own lives instead.


From: 


Alex Gross


Categories
Poetry Monster

Do You Know What Its Like

Do You Know What It’s Like

Do you know what it’s like

To be different? To never

Feel quite right with people?

To be in a crowd and yet utterly

Alone? To wish for someone

Who understands you completely,

And come to the realisation that

No such person exists?

I do.

Do you know what it’s likeTo be a freak? To have

Everyone who sees you either

Pity you, or hate you? To receive

Funny looks every day, every hour?

To have people question everything

You say or do?

I do.

Do you know what it’s like

To be unwanted? To know

That you don’t belong anywhere?

To know that you’re nobody’s favourite,

Nobody’s best friend?

To know that, when you’re with a person,

There’s always someone he or she would

Rather be with?

I do.

Do you know what it’s like to be normal?

To be in constant worry that someone

Won’t approve of what you do, or say?

To always need the right clothes, or

The right music on the right iPod?

To never know your real friend

From that person who just wants to

Have the social status of hanging out with

Somebody normal?

I don’t.And I sure as hell never want to find out.


From: 


Alex Gross


Categories
Poetry Monster

Written In A Volume Of The Comtesse De Noailles

A poem by Alan Seeger (1888-1916)

Be my companion under cool arcades

That frame some drowsy street and dazzling square

Beyond whose flowers and palm-tree promenades

White belfries burn in the blue tropic air.

Lie near me in dim forests where the croon

Of wood-doves sounds and moss-banked water flows,

Or musing late till the midsummer moon

Breaks through some ruined abbey’s empty rose.

Sweetest of those to-day whose pious hands

Tend the sequestered altar of Romance,

Where fewer offerings burn, and fewer kneel,

Pour there your passionate beauty on my heart,

And, gladdening such solitudes, impart

How sweet the fellowship of those who feel!

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A few random poems:

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Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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Poetry Monster

With A Copy Of Shakespeares Sonnets On Leaving College

A poem by Alan Seeger (1888-1916)

As one of some fat tillage dispossessed,

Weighing the yield of these four faded years,

If any ask what fruit seems loveliest,

What lasting gold among the garnered ears, —

Ah, then I’ll say what hours I had of thine,

Therein I reaped Time’s richest revenue,

Read in thy text the sense of David’s line,

Through thee achieved the love that Shakespeare knew.

Take then his book, laden with mine own love

As flowers made sweeter by deep-drunken rain,

That when years sunder and between us move

Wide waters, and less kindly bonds constrain,

Thou may’st turn here, dear boy, and reading see

Some part of what thy friend once felt for thee.

divider_poems

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

Talking Writing Monster’s Page

Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

Doska or the Board – write anything

Search engines:

Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)

Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

Parallel Translations of Poetry

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works