Poetic Anthology

Some of the poems I want to be seen that don't meet word count.


Have you ever watched someone smile?

Have you ever watched the corners of their mouths turn up, in slow motion, as though they're ships being pulled to shore by slaves in Paris?

Have you thought, even though they're being pulled by slaves, the corners of that mouth are still so beautiful, you wish you could tarnish it?

When you want to kill something because it's cute, you're in true pain.

Have you ever been in a situation where you and the other person like each other at the wrong times,

And because of that never happening,

EVERY time you see them, it hurts.

You have a normal exchange, a greeting, small talk and inside jokes, then you watch the corners of their mouth turn up, and you have never wanted so badly to be a slave in a shipyard because then you'd have a reason to hate it so much.


This entire year is like what it would be like if they put Nicholas Sparks and George R.R. Martin behind tv show, where everyone died‚but it was beautiful.

Where John Green sits on the sidelines, watching the soccer match on screen, starting a story about someone's mom's tired eyes—making it about a teenager, who also, happens to be dying.

Jodi Picoult is sipping a vodka cran, watching the tv show on her couch, making notes about the sisters, scratching out 'my sisters keeper' because she wrote that already.

Some girl writing Supernatural fan fiction where the winchesters end up mostly okay, but then Dean gets cancer, Sam can't fight THIS battle for him.

That episode of Friends where the kid finds out he's both adopted and Santa Claus isn't real in one night.

A bad hallmark movie.

A bad LIFETIME movie.

The episode of Glee where Dave Korowski tries to commit—fails‚but the way that episode is set up.

This year is Forrest Gump—but at the end, when all is said and done.

Every Greek myth ever.

The end of Sons of Anarchy, like shooting your mom in the head. Sorry, spoiler.



She asked me to write something for you, so I'm writing.

I'm writing to say that you were—are—probably the best thing to happen to her.

She wouldn't say it out loud, not to me, or anyone, at least to my knowledge; but you saved her, Keegan.

You graced the earth, we saw a light in her that we hadn't seen before.

She began to look at the world as her personal chess board and began to take her turns.

Every move she made was an effort to make the world a better place for you; I think she did it.

She made the world a safer place and is continuing to do so.

The world, was not ready for you, or your heart.

It wasn't ready for the dimples or the smirks that were given with pure intentions.

So go and save all of us this time.

After all, you're our hero.

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Bridget Meier
Bridget Meier
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Bridget Meier

I am an activist. For rights and choices. For the silent. My medium is poetry, but I do have short stories and to-be-continued's. I have a whole book. I'm looking for it to be published soon. I'm a jack of all trades.

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