"Milton" by Laurie Molloy

I call him Milton,
don't think it is real name-
he chases the squirrels
and tries to catch birds.
I try to talk to him,
the most i get back is a crooked cat smile.
I like to imagine what he is really saying.
He can leap like no cat i have seen before,
instead of climbing he flies over the fence
right into the backyard
of the apartment complex where i live.
He is a captivating cat in flight.
I think he likes me
or at least i hope he does.
Sometimes i think he gets mad if i make too much noise
and scare all the birds away.

Upon my return home from college by Laurie Molloy

pink hair

the horror

you must hate me

fluorescent

burning her eyes

with rebellion

why she asks

i don't know

better than drugs

i say to myself

no i did not hate her

or anyone

just thought all pink hair

would be cool

would she have felt better

if it was purple?

Birdwatching by Laurie Molloy

He carefully places the birdhouse

tenderly puts out seeds everyday.

Yay, the birds are here to eat!

Swoosh, come the squirrels

furry and hungry, shooing the birds-

out comes Grandpa, sad to see

squirrels eating bird food.

Out he goes to a hardware store

buys some traps, humane of course.

Round round, his tires go,

and then return to capture squirrels.

Round round, his tires go

scratch, scratch

"ouch! " my leg, says Grandpa,

darn these humane traps,

he thinks cause the squirrel got out-

clawing his legs as he drives the squirrels

to their new home on the other side of the woods-

far from his birds.

About Voyeurism

Voyeurism
it's everywhere
streakers dancing
women parading
and flashing
then there's the people
who just don't know
their shirt's too short
and everyone can see
their plumber's crack

What I have, What I do, What I want

I am going to try to write some poems that show two sides of things, I know it is not a new idea, people have been doing it for years. This poem is about what I actually do and what I want.

Standing thinking dreaming waiting-
all day I spent doing one of these.
Tomorrow probably I will try again:
some new dreams, a new stance,
a changed perspective, less patience
for a world less quick than the internet.
I want to be like Dorothy, a few clicks
and some words, and Voila! I'm there.

New Poem (a draft)

Sometimes I feel like all my poems are drafts. I rarely get to a point where I can say, this piece of writing is perfect, and I wont change it.

Untitled

Discontent
wildly grows
like flowers or a fire
into beauty
or death
new life
or destruction

Disbelief
stays still or stands up
is taken for truth
or known as a lie

Distance
spreads speedily
or is only short
is a big gap
or brings you closer

Two Poems by me

"His Lips" by Laurie Molloy

The electric graze
of his soft lips
makes my belly
do little flips


"Restless Wanderings" by Laurie Molloy

All I ever wanted was you.
I dream of your warm delicate hand
sitting on mine endlessly,
a picture of perfectness that lasts
eternally into each night and
every morning that ever was
and ever will be.