Poems by Gregory Cote

Jan 12

Written By Gregory Cote

Moth in Cocoon

And when I saw what the world had to offer,

I stopped.

I stayed in my safety.

For the world has birds,

and frogs,

and bright flames,

and I am a moth.

Walls

Long ago you put up walls

To prevent a broken heart torn

And on those walls grew vines

And on those vines grew thorns

So when I tried to climb those walls

My heart was cut and torn

And when I finally climbed those walls

My heart was scared of yours

I saw it sitting there in safety

Never beating, never breaking

And while my heart was tearing up

I was never scared of falling down

Until I reached the top.

Soul of a garden

I seek to be the soul of a garden, and for that I must be nurtured. For my flowers to bloom I

must be fed. For my branches to stretch I need time to grow.

I seek to be the soul of a garden, where the evidence of my love can be seen, smelt, tasted in

my harvested contributions.

I seek to be the soul of a garden, with my presence bringing peace unrivaled in it's balance of

still and buzzing energy.

I seek to be the soul of a garden, providing for those around me, providing for those that show

me love.

As I lay now like an abandoned lot

My heart grows wild

My weeds grow thick and thorny,

but weeds still flower.

My grass droops in the heat.

My roots tangled but deep.

Longing for the day I become a garden

Unrequited Loss

Oh this feeling of losing something

Something that was never mine

It stabs in and pulls out

at the same time

Worsening with every line

that enters my head

As I try try try

to make sense of nothingness

To make peace in the chaos

To lose that game gracefully

With self restraint of my anger

My frustration, my grief

Was it time wasted or time well spent

My mood on that subject wavers

On and on and on

till I've found what I've lost

And when I find it I will make it mine

So that if I lose it again

My frustration will cease to exist

My grief will be justified

My sadness will have reason

And I will not be so tormented

By this feeling of losing

Something I never had to lose

Shopping List

The fridge is out of milk

That which has been poured

Over, and

Over

A glass for no reward.

A lactose intolerant people.

Yet still there in the store

More, and

A shelf ready for Helen's war.

A stock simply not needed.

And still the cows produce

Again, and

Again

A liquid that has no use,

For this fridge that's out of milk.

Gregory Cote

Greg is a lovesick poet navigating life as a young gay male. He uses poetry to explore the feelings that arise in gay dating and the lessons he's learned along the way. Outside of poetry, he holds a M.S degree in Biotechnology and works in a plant genetics laboratory.