Georgia Tell's Blog, page 5

Poem #789

you can’t just pull on your bootstraps
and hope to float
when you’re drowning

A post shared by Georgia Tell (@georgiatell) on Jul 11, 2018 at 9:25pm PDT

Poem #788 – heatwave

kittens melted into the carpet
crayons in the hundred degree heat.
when the sun set,
they couldn’t pull their little paws free.

Poem #787

yet again.
I check my bank account,
and I’m not a millionaire.

Poem #786

I used to take pictures of the sky
that says something about me
now I take pictures of dirt
I suppose that says something too

Poem #785 – you can’t lie in the vacuum of space

when I arrived in space,
I liquified
I guess it was just atmospheric pressure
keeping me together

Poem #784

busy, busy.
I’m busy
trying not to think
trying not to let the wall of water
at the edge of my eyes
drown me

Review of “Pillow Thoughts” by Courtney Peppernell

Pillow Thoughts, a book of poetry about love in all its stages by Courtney Peppernell, made me feel empty — probably not in the way one might imagine though.

Let me clarify, that I did enjoy it. It was grandiose and unabashedly gooey. I didn’t think anyone could be so dramatic about love. For example, this wonderful poem:

Of all the maps in the world, the only one I will follow is the map to your heart.

It’s cheesy. But it made me want to write love poetry, and I wouldn’t say that romance poe...

Poem #783 – there is no point in catching butterflies if your only reason is they’re pretty

justifying my choices to you is
catching butterflies on a windy day.
and if I did catch one,
I’d release it immediately anyway

Poem #782 – logic is not kind

you are right
but you are not right
the best way
to grow this tree
is the right soil,
the right sun,
the right rain.
but it will still grow
with another soil,
another sun,
another rain.

your tree grows twenty feet tall
so does mine
your tree is an emerald of the forest
mine is titanite in the Sahara
your tree is home to squirrels and birds
mine is a small oasis in the desert
your tree is not better than mine
after all is said and done

Poem #781b – the three me’s

the normal one
you see her the most
she’s got her shit together
she goes to work every day
she invests
she smiles when she should
she impresses your mom
she thinks the right thing
she says the right thing
she does the right thing

the depressed one
you hear of her occasionally
she sleeps right after work
she stares at her phone for hours
she cries
she doesn’t even feel like trying
she refuses your invitations
she can’t clean
she can’t survive without help
she hangs on for the other two

the man...