Bottle Poems - Poems about Bottle

The plastic bottle on the path Begging to be picked up Countless thousands ignore it Leaving it for the next To come along Suddenly it's not ignored A foot reaches out and kicks it Surely this must be the moment But then another kick And then another, The bottle is along for the ride The path now ending The daylight fading The endless...

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You collect old bottle caps and belly button lint. I don't find you strange; I find you endearing. And maybe it's because we're both locked up on the top floor of a mental hospital. And you're the only other person I have to talk to. Yeah, that has to be it. ...

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Bottle shared with my mom’s bestie; and it was good to share old times; now even this is past times… The good times roll away, like an empty bottle… We’d laugh, discuss, until I had to go and Judy left with an “I love you.” The best thing said between two. ...

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I always wanted it to be you, there wasn’t anything in the world that didn’t want it to be that way too, it was always you, I thought about you more then anyone else, I thought about you before I thought about myself, I know if we ever got together, I know we wouldn’t last,...

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He walked into the room, commanding attention and my heart, the scent of him is like a drug, intoxicating me, controlling my every thought. A hint of musk and cedarwood, with a touch of leather, manly without being overbearing. I can't help but associate those notes with his broad shoulders, and the way he carries himself with such confidence. There's a subtle...

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The refrigerator opened by itself tonight Weird because I had closed it good and tight Ketchup bottle fell out to dance along the floor We watched, expecting a few escapees more Maybe mustard and jelly would be along shortly And that apple butter jar that was a bit portly But nothing else flipped out or seemed at all wrong The ketchup bottle...

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A crazy, whacked out human/ With lost tendencies of life/ A reality unable to grasp/ Like water through a net/ Searching for freedom/ In my fantasy imagination/ Barbarian in strength/ With an overpowering/ Will to dominate/ Part Devil, Part Demon/ I am a whirlwind/ You can't pen down/ A face only a mother/ Could ever love/ An abnormal oddball in life/ With an irresistible charm/ That will pull you in/ Bold in...

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Hide this bottle from me, That I could drink This Chateauneuf du Pape More tempting than the smile of a maid, this Saint Emilion sneaky Who has no saint but the name, Hide this bottle from me, This haut c$ote de Beaune, Straight from the Middle Ages, This rosé of Provence so sincere Who would make pretty Bretons blush, In a creperie of Brest. Hide this bottle...

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I open the jar of poems like a bottle of whiskey on a long night, where the poet's whispers are raw and direct, a course of love in four acts, obsessions and (un)blamable loves writhe like cigarette smoke in the room, and we laugh blue, like ink spilled on a dirty table. I swallow the silence like a bitter...

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I found it in a bottle on the beach. I bet they never imagined its reach. Someone who lives out in the sea. Someone who misses seeing a tree. They didn’t mean for it to be me to handle. This paper as fragile as my old, worn sandals. A poem that reached me. That someone wrote for free. Not knowing where it would...

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One day mom gave me a bottle sparkling, bright fairy pixie lights swirled around me; all about my room sparkles encircling, the twinkles from the bottle were set free ! Mom, what a wonderful glimmering light, a golden glowing magical dazzle; lights are floating up and down, left and right, oh, enchanted and in a bedazzle ! All about my room light...

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Spring is gone, Summer’s fading in Fall's vanishing leaves, we are wading Winter seems a long way off, but storms soon will rage, exacerbating … Oh, let’s just...

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Inspired by Tom Selleck's character from the movie series, Jesse Stone. Brilliant cast. ?? ?? The empty bottle By Michelle Morris 04/08/2024 The empty bottle stares at him It has nothing left to give Yet despite all it's giving It's taken so much from him Self-respect and sobriety Reputation and memories He's had to claw back each time From...

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through bottle green waves ...

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I was born to sail. I can hear whispers of the ocean calling me, but there are no tides upon this mantlepiece. I cannot set sail, trapped in this glass cocoon, collecting dust.. I am no resting place for flies. Eyes gaze at me in wonderment, at the patience and precision of my imprisonment, unaware my masts are raised.... Waiting, for the...

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