poetry

Poem #139

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

hey Siri
I’m cheery
I’ve got a theory
why’d they do that?
something to look at
fat cat
screen flat
let’s chat
I’m at
top hat
I’m so bleary
not the least bit leery
hey dearie
I’m tired and teary

Poem #136

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

the chameleon girl did not notice
the gentle fluttering, a frantic but effective movement,
of the dusty brown moth eyeing her soup
she did not notice its eventual fall
she did not notice as the soup coated its wings
the powdered surface lost its micro scales
to the thick and unforgiving soup
she scooped up another spoonful
she did notice the half dead moth now
but she couldn’t save it, and that’s it.

Poem #134

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

the janitor hauled his supplies
past messy desks and office plants
every night he cleaned the floors
dusted the vents and threw out trash
on this particular night, he had no head phones
so he hummed to himself: a ballad
his hums intertwined with a soft wailing
at first he paid no attention, just harmonizing
but it grew louder until it was a full-fledged scream
continuous and all-encompassing
he cautiously crept towards the restrooms
as he opened the door, it stopped
inside the bathroom, a figure laid on the floor
“are you okay?” the janitor asked
the woman looked up at him
she ducked her head, ashamed
she said, “the work never stops”

Poem #132

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

my skin burns
with a dull tight heat
I need to relax
and yet I’ve laid down
my brain is empty and full
like everything is hectic
just beyond my reach
I see everything
but can’t focus on it
can’t draw it in
I need to snap back
like I always do
when I get like this
until then I flounder
waiting for normalcy

Poem #131

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

she sells seashells
at the shore
seaside

but it’s illegal
avoid the cops
she can sniff ’em

pretend to sell other wares
she shouts at beach goers
“great deals, almost steals”

the right people know
what she does
and they direct traffic

she will get rich
with this market
and nothing can stop her

Poem #130

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

“Do Not Enter” repeated on plastic tape
the bathroom was under construction
part of the campus’ revitalization program
but they didn’t know this was hers
of any place on campus, this was her favorite
it didn’t matter that the stall doors were pale yellow
or that sickeningly green wallpaper adorned the walls
it didn’t matter that it was a bathroom
she felt comfortable and safe there

so she bypassed the yellow and black tape
she breathed in the musty air, a familiar smell
now the sharp wet smell of cut 2x4s mixed in
the pedestal sink, her pedestal sink, was gone
dried crud in the shape of the pedestal left a stain
creaky plywood floor instead of yellowed vinyl
she couldn’t take it and ran out
she breathed in heavy ragged breaths
mourning the loss of a dilapidated lavatory