THE BALLAD OF SMEE
There once was an Ogre named Smee
Who had a blue mustache that grew on his knee
He washed it
and combed it
and shined it with wax
Til he smashed it in band with his new tenor sax
Artwork & Silliness by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Tag: poem
Hearing Her
To Hear Her
it all returns.
the dark room,
the shrinking veins,
the strong, rageful pumping at her center
it travels like wind
here and then gone
waking and sleeping on a clock of it’s own
Hearing Her by Angie Hoover- Hillhouse
I wrote this several months after my girlfriend broke up with me in 2004. It’s probably published in my high school livejournal along with other evidence of teenage angst. We all used to feel our feelings very publicly in those days. I’m sure I wrote this hoping that she would contact me out of pity. Now I’m marrying a man, and she’s teaching english to impoverished Ecuadorian children.
Artwork by Leigh Viner
Leigh’s Etsy Shop here:
Summer
The sun, she reaches down to stroke
the soft red skin of poppies smiling
Heat moves quickly through the garden
Worlds between them blossom bright
Green and Yellow wide awake
holes and corners washed to white
Breaths of light blown into shadows
Til she folds away to sleep
Summer by Angie Hoover- Hillhouse
Artwork: “Lovers” by Arantxa Rueda
More of Arantxa’s Work here:
http://society6.com/ArantxaRueda
Resilience
through the cracks in the sunset
she slithers like night
she traps us in silence
and swallows the light
but still you shine loudly
your song like the sun
and you dance in her cage
til the darkness has gone
Resilience by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork by Vanessa Cate
Thoughts on a Man
His mouth mischevious
spouting secrets with excitement
sufficiently controlled
expertly executed
his adoring audience seems to agree
i depart with tears well-timed and offense poorly feigned
matches unmet
my bed big and cold
my walls narrow and white
………………….i suppose i’ll wake up tomorrow
Fragmented Thoughts by Meaghan Merrifield
Artwork by Lance Gilette
More of Lance’s Work here:
Longing
pages left full of phrases and fragments
there they lie limp
awaiting inspiration’s return
its breathe wet and warm
to make them again mine
Unfinished Poem by Meaghan Merrifield
The Morning After
The rosy pink
that kissed your flesh
is floating through the room like ash
and here I lay
alone but warm
tangled up in soft goodbyes
“The Morning After” Unfinished Poem by Angie Hoover- Hillhouse
Photo by Noel Alvarenga
This Old House
Boarded up and left alone
quietly sleeping on the hill
.drafty windows.
.weeping willow.
where I used to be
she’s not so sad to me, no.
she’s not so old to me
squeeking doors and scuffed up floors
tattered drapes
torn from their rods
songs and lies down every hall
but still there’s sweetness in this dust
Unfinished Song by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
More of Angie’s Poetry here:
https://theshowtellproject.wordpress.com/category/pieces-of-us/poetry/
The Show Tell Project 