Delilah Miller Poems

Cold kitchen.
Colder day,
Coldest women lay in the living room, living without their kin.
Clear evening,
...

If you open you eyes,
And I'm gone,
It means you've read my poem.
Perhaps, now,
...

So many people have got to tell you something,
eagerly spilling out their religion,
their stories, experiences, favorites and finds.
They must forward their ideas.
...

They say write what you know, but I'm a little fed up with convetion at the moment. I wrote this as a wife, watching her dream marriage fall apart.


The warmth of my pink bedroom wall
...

All this
honey love,
feeling honey sweet
among
...

To explain the last line, fin is french for end.


I want out.
...

Let's be honest.
And I mean honest,
the kind you choke when saying
but you say it,
...

If that's the way I like it,
that's the attitude I'll work it with.
I like to dance
and I'll make you move with me.
...

If you read this, and find it's not my usual style, you're correct. This is a poem my best friend wrote about me and I liked the odd quirks and pretty imagery she used. Of course, I'm biased. Anyway, I played with her lines and broke them up to give them a different feel. Let me know what you think and I'll let her know!


How can I tell you and make you
...

Tuck my waist under some dark, steady hand
because so far tonight isn't enough.
You're sloppy drunk again,
speaking
...