David Everett Fisher


May 8, 2015 Art, poem

Poems About Gurlz Vol. I

Roses Under Dark Sad Eyes


Inside the Roses,

but below the heavens

is the place where our differences met.


We forgot the Giants that

roamed the earth;

the sleeping Gods

and the Demons who are in a coma

waiting for Chaos to awaken.


We forgot who we were,

and who we think we are,

and who used to define us,

and who we would sit and worshp,

and who we wish would hold us.


We felt the stars drop into the

circle of Roses,

and we hear laughter

and strings.

We hear the elusive

Sixth chord.


We aren’t wicked.

We aren’t different.

We aren’t believers.

We aren’t doubters.

We aren’t diseased.

We aren’t afraid.

We aren’t sure of any of this.


We were fine.



I’ll Be Your Cat


To this very day,

I don’t feel alone

knowing that you are

out there somewhere.


Even though

you’d rather not be

with me anymore.

Even though

I was too near

for you to feel safe,

so you built

a walled citadel.


I picture you

looking for knitting needles

watching a show

with those wide bright eyes

in a galaxy of freckles.


Sometimes I wish

I could turn into a cat

and have you find me

and let me live with you.


I’d curl up in your lap

and purr

and follow you around

and rub against your leg

and I would watch the

door, waiting for you to

come home.


I’d sleep at the foot

of the bed,

and you would be happy

because I would warm

your feet.


You would touch me with

that perfect slight touch,

and I’d feel warm inside

knowing you were there.


7 Years


What if you had only 7 years left?

What would you want to do?

What if you didn’t know if you’d make it the whole 7 years?

Is it important to become someone that everyone remembers?

Is it important to complete some kind of list?

Why try anything if all that will happen is you die?

What if the future just makes you cry?

What if you only remember your mistakes when your life flashes before your eyes as you ride the bus home watching the world go by completely oblivious to your pain and terror of a future cut short? What if people seem to waste your time with their pitiful problems why all you can think about is how you don’t have time for this and you need to walk away and never come back? What if pain is the standard feeling you feel deep inside your soul and just when you think you’ll snap out of it you don’t?

Would you rob a bank?

Would you smoke crack?

Would you finally go see Cirque du Soleil on mushrooms like in that one movie?

Would you raft the Grand Canyon without permission?

Would you let all etiquette and manners go?

Would you tell everyone?

Would you just tell your loved ones?

Would you keep it a secret because you don’t want people to treat you weird?

I guess we’ll never know.


Crazy Lady


I remember seeing you the first time,

and thinking that you were attractive,

in that plain normal kind of way.

You looked put together,

and normal.

Totally out of my league.

Then you started talking.

I heard the voices that accompanied your

thoughts that drove you

through the night.

I heard the insane orchestra

that frightened you

and hoped no one would hear,

but I heard it.

I saw the twinkle in your eye

as reality dimmed,

and your world spread out before you.

I saw your utter insanity

and I fell in love.





Nothing makes me more nostalgic

for love than a cello.

The deep rich tone that usually

backbones some romantic melody.

It’s dark and it hits the heart

with heartbreaking vibrations.

There is a huge difference between

hearing the cello with someone

and hearing the cello by myself.

The violins sing high into the stars,

The guitar plucks it’s way down a

meandering stream,

The horns crash against the rocks

reminding us nature’s wrath,

The viola is somewhere in a valley a

mountain range away,

A harp accents an ancient

kind of love,

The saxophone either makes it

crude or cool,

The flute reminds us that love doesn’t

have to be masculine at all,

and the cello will either put

our hands together,

or tear the night sky away.

The clarinet is the saddest instrument

ever played,

but the cello will always remind me

that I have a heart,

and it is always aching.

Leave a Reply