by YAMELI YAHAIRA » Tue Dec 04, 2018 7:46 pm
I did the research about short easy poems. I foun 45 short poems, a lot of them where very difficult, but I found 1 that I liked and I think that I understand it.
It was written by Danez Smith and it is called "The 17 Year-Old and the Gay Bar"
This gin-heavy heaven, blessed ground to think gay & mean we./
bless the fake id & the bouncer who knew /
this need to be needed, to belong, to know how /
a man taste full on vodka & free of sin. I know not which god to pray to. /
I look to christ, I look to every mouth on the dance floor, I order /
a whiskey coke, name it the blood of my new savior. He is just. /
he begs me to dance, to marvel men with the /
dash/
of hips I brought, he deems my mouth in some stranger's mouth
necessary. /
bless that man's mouth, the song we sway sloppy to, the beat, the
bridge, the legth/
of his hand on my thigh & back & I know not which country I am of. /
I want to live on his tongue, build a home of gospel & gayety/
I want to raise a city behind his teeth for all boys of choirs & closets to
refuge in./
I want my new god to look at the mecca I built him & call it damn good/
or maybe I'm just tipsy & free for the first time, willing to worship
anything I can taste. /
Amazing, poem
I did the research about short easy poems. I foun 45 short poems, a lot of them where very difficult, but I found 1 that I liked and I think that I understand it.
It was written by Danez Smith and it is called "The 17 Year-Old and the Gay Bar"
This gin-heavy heaven, blessed ground to think gay & mean we./
bless the fake id & the bouncer who knew /
this need to be needed, to belong, to know how /
a man taste full on vodka & free of sin. I know not which god to pray to. /
I look to christ, I look to every mouth on the dance floor, I order /
a whiskey coke, name it the blood of my new savior. He is just. /
he begs me to dance, to marvel men with the /
dash/
of hips I brought, he deems my mouth in some stranger's mouth
necessary. /
bless that man's mouth, the song we sway sloppy to, the beat, the
bridge, the legth/
of his hand on my thigh & back & I know not which country I am of. /
I want to live on his tongue, build a home of gospel & gayety/
I want to raise a city behind his teeth for all boys of choirs & closets to
refuge in./
I want my new god to look at the mecca I built him & call it damn good/
or maybe I'm just tipsy & free for the first time, willing to worship
anything I can taste. /
Amazing, poem