froghollow

deranged teenager writes poems

[froghollowdreams]

[froghollowdreams]

a retort

The last hope for movement

The last break in my stasis

To put any of this into words would be impossible but

I think it’s like the sun on a pond at eight or

Maybe the first firefly of the season

Yes, something so beautiful

Something ethereal in my mind

Visions of a literary future;

pick flowers from the garden, I’ll tell you what they mean

The land has never seen me silent;

My voice a rebellion and my heart the catalyst,

With my hum and your note, we could rekindle a wasteland

In the name of those lost, those weak and those damned

It is here they flee to, here they’ll see

I am the movement, tradition is my stasis

And home they are, for home is where we go.

And you, goodness you,

I want you to know–I wish you would see

That all of what I write these days is of you

My pen has described you a thousand ways, 

yet never written your name.

I doubt we could have it, my dream I’ve made, 

We’re still so young and I’m still so afraid

If I knew that reaching for you now would get us that ending

I would in a heartbeat, my anxiety unending

Still, I won’t say I love you, it’s overused 

With a heavy heart I admit that it is, too, overdue.

Yet,

There is still so much left for us here. 

Your outstretched hand I’d follow, to the ends of the grove, 

to the end of your dreams.

But beyond I cannot go, for here lie my roots. 

Sustained is the promise of yore:

Our spirits are free; eternally through dreams are we entwined.

[froghollowdreams]

stray cats

I wanna be the city lights in the rain soaked roads

The psithurism that beckons gently for the weak and weary to rest 

The feather poking from your pillow

The passerby reflected in a polished window

The stray cats that follow you home.

Though our chapter will pass, I’ll still be there

Laced into your routine in the most mundane ways

The song on the radio you’d first heard from me

The scent of fresh coffee in the morning

I hope to be with you in all that you are

For all of the betterment of you I can only spark the thought 

From behind the scenes and drowned in dreams

I’ll still be the sweetener to your black tea. 

When I’m gone and we’re all through

I can only pray that you always knew

Just how important you were to me.

bittersweetly knowing that I am important, too

[froghollowdreams]

the hot pocket poem

For you, I would kill someone; love is like a hot pocket…I get really excited when it’s in the microwave. I know you’re the one because you buy me hot pockets and accompany me to Kidz Bop concerts, and would wear a Hatsune Miku cosplay if I asked you to. I’d do anything for love, except sacrifice my hot pockets or kill you. When I think of you, I get hungry, because I want a hot pocket and I want you to bring me some. Your hands are like hot pockets. I put my hands in them before I eat them. Your voice is like a hot pocket; It’s very attractive and tasty. Our nights are like hot pockets; You put me in the microwave. Your eyes are like microwaves. They have hot pockets in them.

[froghollowdreams]

promise of petals

Lilacs in a vase by the door, though I swear I hadn’t seen them there before; 

Garden overgrown in zinnias of pink— of yellow— maybe every shade, there’s too many to be sure.

Queen anne’s lace drapes my mind like a veil;

Obstruction it may be, but still it is so frail.

Black velvet petunias melt into eigengrau, 

with the delight only red roses could bestow. 

Declarations have weight, on paper or in a tune,

But perhaps, all I need is a peony, to say ‘I love you.’

[froghollowdreams]

honey

You can’t see it, because you’re searching in the dark.

All you need is some sun. 

I see them in the lines of trees on my walk home;

I see them in the tiger’s eye beads woven into charms and bracelets;

I see them in the painted pattern of a moth’s wings;

I see them in the freshly fallen leaves at my doorstep;

I see them in the honey in my tea. 

And when there is no light, there is still no worry,

I may still find them in the peace of the night, or the feathers of a crow. 

It matters not, either way, for with them I find you. 

[froghollowdreams]

hindsight

We’ll be a joint muse to all the romantics

The new beautiful source of tragedy 

Smashed and buckled and breaking, but still refracting light. 

It’ll all be worth it in the end when the pain becomes delight. 

When the caged bird loses its will to sing,

All is bound to fall out of place, but,

Pick up the pieces, why don’t you, and rework me into a mosaic. 

Historians for centuries will admire it and sing our praises,

Discuss the harmonic image of my hell,

And how in complement to mine, your eyes were the perfect hue.

All that said, I’d still be happier if I'd never met you.

[froghollowdreams]

all's fair in joy and shenanigans . and by god, there is whimsy there too

[froghollowdreams]

here’s hoping

Some day in the future, I want to love you.

I want you to hug me from behind, kiss me on my forehead

Look at me without reservation, and I’ll do the same.

Tell me about my eyes. Tell me about my laugh.

I’ve heard it all a hundred times before, but it’s never meant anything like it would from you.

Hold my hand and look for me in crowds

Do all of the stupid romantic things with me, please

I want to see you be proud to introduce me to people

I want you to smile when I smile

I want to make you as happy as you make me

Dance with me in the kitchen, meet me outside late at night to see the stars

Tell me about your day while I clean, tell me about the little things that remind you of me

I want to love you wholly and unconditionally 

I want to write you pathetic love poems

I want to listen to you talk for hours

The world looks so much sweeter when in love

And I’m ready to embrace that with open arms. 

No more hopelessness, no more regrets

We deserve a happy ending. 

I want to forget the hours wasted overthinking

And learn to live in the present.

I want to do all of the clique things.

I want a peaceful life.

You bring out the best version of me. 

I’m happy to simply exist with you.

[froghollowdreams]

roots

growing with you was a privilege 

your roots tangled with mine,

I know that you’ll never truly leave me.

Not in my dreams. Not in memory. 

You’re not who I remember. 

You kept on growing.

A stem can only reach so high towards the sun before losing its balance. 

And a collar of petals is dangerous, when you can’t see past it to your roots. 

I didn’t make it to the end of your story, but I hope you revisit the chapter we shared. Was it really your favorite? Do you miss it like I do?

Is innocence and folly enough? Or will the primal need for conflict win you over in every timeline?

The gusts of wind that sway you are your favorite

And the overgrown blanket of grass is mine.

For I notice, now, that to sit on such a tall stem means to ensure yourself a hard fall. 

I think I’ll stay in the blades, with the bugs I call friends

If your story’s a tragedy, I’m happy to be here to say that I told you so.

Keep growing, dear, and when you fall

tell me what was more bitter—

Laying face to face with your roots, or the agony of being beneath me

[froghollowdreams]

howdy there you muddle fudger

BOOTHILL JUMPSCARE