Sep 18

Introductions and Unravelling

please handle me with care.
Despite the sturdy experience
and seemingly thick skin,
I'm rather fragile
and I spook easy.
In short,
I'm like a green horse,
something completely raw
and wide-eyed
(you can decide
if it's awe,
or some combination of the two).

I eat twice a day,
because breakfast just sits like a rock
for the rest of the day.
I need regular watering,
or at least reminders,
because at times
I disregard the towering glass of water
just a few inches from my hands.
I should sleep at least six hours,
I sometimes miss the mark there,
so maybe just tell me
that the music I'm writing can wait,
or that a perfect score on homework doesn't matter.

I get wrapped up in the little things
If that occurs,
wrap me up in a warm blanket
(fresh from the dryer
is preferred)
Sep 18

I Don't Understand

“I don't understand.”

Is what he said to me, as I let myself say everything I felt the need to say, everything that I had bottled up for so long.

That’s what everyone says.

And he didn't understand.

He couldn’t.

Was it the way I paused? The way I still couldn’t let myself give in to showing every emotion, every colorful thought that crossed my mind?

Was it because he didn’t want to believe it?

Did he know what I meant?

Did he know why I decided to open up to him in a time that had no need for such things?

“I don’t understand.”

Is what he said to me.

I tried and tried, again and again, after hardly healed from my past mistakes, I had to make myself explain. I had to give my reasons. Or else they’d think I didn’t care.

Was I speaking in a way that made my words seem unclear?
Sep 18

To The Best Sister in the World

You can spot her in a crowd
No matter how large.
Her shock blonde curly hair,
Bouncing and blowing in the wind

She's an avid runner,
Running varsity girls,
Which makes her happy
all the time

She rarely complains,
Except when it's about homework.
She always has a helpful tip
Or idea about something.

She has a big heart,
And always encourages you
To do what you want
Not what others want.

She is grateful for everything,
Getting excited over the smallest things,
And being extremely thankful
For whatever it is

When she laughs,
Her nose crinkles at the top,
And she laughs so hard,
That it's silent

My sister,
Is more
Than I could ask for
Sep 18

Musical Blood

It's not synesthesia.
Not for me.
I think musicians
who love the craft
and have a steady metronome heart
see the world
in shades of music.
We feel the constant tick
of life
and watch as music unfolds before our eyes.

I don't close my eyes
for magnificent symphonies
and see shimmering fireworks
of colors
and swirling tonalities,
but I see scenes.
Clips of memories
sewn together
between thin black bar lines
and peppered with accidentals
instead of specks of dust.

I can't hear a song without remembering
the first time it hit hard.
I see midnight hikes,
a first kiss,
a burning match,
and clouds
I smell the ocean
and its biting salty winds.
I don't remember the faces,
just the sensations
and the world around me.

The emotions stick with me the hardest.
I can still feel my heart accelerando
Sep 18

Just a Little Upstream

Just a Little Upstream
By Jalila Nazerali-Ruddy

Oh how I hate saying goodbyes
Maybe I should lie and say

“See you soon”

And with a sigh I sent the rosebud down the river

It floats downstream and then disappears

I remember staring out the window

Summer,autumn, winter, spring repeate

You sat faith besides me, on the bank above the stream

Your ears perked

your nose twitching

Your hazel brown eyes tracking the rustle of leaves

Tonight I lay out in the starts like we used.

Do you remember?

You always fell asleep as I told you stories of the constellations.

fingers running through you long soft fur

Bliss and happiness, I thought it would last forever,
Sep 18
J. Scott's picture

Unpopular Opinion

I have been
to both woods and sea

I have revelled
in their endless
W o n d e r,

their depths
and the potent cocktail ㅡ
fear and belonging ㅡ
they fill one with

I have spent
warm fall afternoons
and chill summer mornings
within the Embrace
of Nature

held close
by her Grace
and Power
in a trance
of the world

I hold no religion
but for that of her:
of the power of Nature

It is
with this authority
that I say

(with as great confidence
as I believe one can hold
for any particular idea):

Robert Frost
was full of shit

Robert Frost
while acquainted, perhaps,
with the night,
Knew nothing
of the sea
of the wood

He has the
understanding of her

His words
Sep 18
Alaina.J_27's picture

Without You

In the beginning,
I didn't know who I was
Without you.
In the beginning,
I didn't know what to do
Without you.
In the beginning,

Sep 17

tomorrow morning

it's all a dream.

i see it in the way the peaks of the mountain
scrape the deep blue sky.
cutting jagged edges 
leaving scars. 

you spoke of the places you wished to go
the globe spinning at your fingertips.
but again,
how do you know they're real
when you've never stepped far from home?

i imagened  the way i'd float on clouds
right away,
the day we finally learned to fly.
if i ever made it that far
i would have fell down to the hard reality:
you know it as earth.

some call it love

i call it 


it doesn't matter though.
tomorrow morning
we will probably

have forgotten.

Sep 17

Better than average

As I lay here, supposedly asleep 

My brain starts to whirl

My fingers itch to write 

And my toes are..... well just my toes 

Small to big, or big to small 

depends how you see them 

all 5 in a row

Back to,that’s right, what to write, 

 the bridge we must now cross without getting soakes

With a leap and a skip, and oh no I just tripped 

The letters begin to fill the once empty page 

On the path to the end of this page 

 bumped into a elephant 

yellow and blue, oh yes it was true 

it’s tucks long and coloured with a tint of blonde 

It’s eyes, a deep sea green 

held beauty I could never put down in words

head lifted, trunk to the sky,It sung

with a voice as soft and beautiful as a butterfly 

She’s a special one

 she’s better than most

heart as pure as gold
Sep 17
Fiona Ella's picture


when i went to formby point it was a cloudy day
chilly even though it was july. 
another girl and i took the train out all alone
into the town. 
we bought sandwiches and kinder surprise eggs at waitrose
then asked the lady in the bakery for directions
and then we walked. 
we had no idea where we were going
or how far away the train station was from here. 
we must've walked several miles all told, 
past fancy houses with names like
'greystoke hall'
and places that looked just like those places only a little cleaner
where rich american tourists could stay. 
eventually we reached the point. 
we slid through behind the cars into the nature conservatory
hoping that we wouldn't need passes and, 
if we did, 
that no one would notice. 
and then we walked some more. 
this time, through forests. 
i picked up a magpie feather from the ground. 
Sep 17
Alaina.J_27's picture

I Have Lost My Way

I have lost my way.
I don't know how.
I don't know why.
I can't escape into the safety of light.
I run.
I hide.

I run, and run, and run,
Moving my legs as fast as they'll go.
Heart racing,
Lungs desperate for air,
Muscles burning,
Arms moving,
Eyes searching,
Hair blowing out behind me,
My feet flying across the ground.
Not fast enough.

My heart pumping blood through my veins.
Not fast enough.

My lungs pulling in air.
Not fast enough.

My brain trying to think of a place to hide,
My eye searching as I run,
Not fast enough.

It’s never fast enough.

I’m not fast enough.
Sep 17

Steel Hearts

Either fortunately or unfortunately,
we are here.
By forced methods,
we are chained to the ground, 
our wings clipped and broken.
They don't need to put us in cages
if we are already in one.
Restrained and earth-bound,
they took our spirits, our lives, our hope.
Tell me, please,
what is keeping you down?
When they took our flight, 
they only left us our fight. 
So let me tell you, darling,
that the only way you can
regain your freedom
is to fight back. 
Whether with a sword or with words,
nothing is small in the rebel heart.
Come with me, you who I can so clearly 
see has a heart made to rebound,
bounce and bite back, like mine.
Let us join together, hand in hand,
and conquer our captors,
make them regret the day 
they took the knife to our wings
and our hearts,
letting them bleed out until they thought
we were empty.
Sep 17


their eyes are like almonds
their breath like release,
and their dreams a little messy
like an unmade bed
but beautiful like a sunrise. 
their fingers moving fast across the globe,
caressing every word in the dictionary.
giving new meaning. 
beautiful in their solace. 
Sep 17


the stairs don't creak in our new house.

in our old one, they did.
i can't tell you which ones

but if i were to go back,
i have a feeling
my feet
in the same reticent places they used to
(to aviod unwanted attenton)

back when i had something to hide
from anyone

besides myself.

Sep 17
poem 0 comments challenge: Almost
Emma Colby's picture

Moving Forward

The scene in front of her was perfect.  


Early morning fog lingered

above the courtyard,

caressing the soccer field,

and tickling the glass windows

that belonged to the brick building.

A few small sets of feet

scrambled up the ramp to the gym,

and a pair of hands

waved to each other

while the other pair

clutched steaming cups of coffee.

The scene in front of her was perfect.  


But the car kept moving forward,

past the little school,

and onto the next.

Sep 16
Maisie N's picture

Fair Weather

The smell of popcorn lingers in the air
Carnival rides and tiny toys
Like funhouse mirrors, everyone stops and stares
You are music, mayhem and beautiful noise
Watching, listening, but you do not care
Colors blur with the sound of your voice
Reminiscent, I almost thought you were there
Among the laughter of happy girls and boys.

I would have ridden the ferris wheel all night
If it meant I got to ride next to you
Queasy but excited with you by my side
In a small town with nothing better to do
For a moment I forgot my fear of heights
Lost myself in fantastic views
Of you-- of fireworks reflected in your eyes
Just you, me and the moon.

You are something different and exciting
Like a car of clowns or a barrel of monkeys
Time flies by, pedulums swinging
I think that you or your battleship sunk me
My head, like the carousel, constantly spinning
Sep 16

I Am Not

the lake makes a soft noise,
like one of a non-committal alarm,
not quite loud enough to stir me from 
or from my nightmares. 
the water somehow strikes me as lonely. 
like every time a wave touches the feet of a child
on it’s beach—
it is trying to make a friend. 
and what they doesn’t understand is 

i am not a hero,

i don’t rescue cats from trees,

or chase after the bad guys. 

i am not a hero. 

i am not optimistic

or hopeful,

i don’t pray for tomorrow to be better

or for the world to change. 

i am not optimistic. 

I am not a poet. 

i don’t write looping words 

on a page

or rhyme every line,

i don’t scrawl out letters 

to save the minds of those 

who stumble across my 


i am not a poet.
Sep 16
embermist's picture


Welcome to the fanfare of fall.
To the fire-sprung foliage that flutters onto ping-pong tables
And frustrated fighting over paddles.
Welcome to forgetting.

Welcome to wistful warmth.
Welcome to wood cabins and weaving branches,
Water reflecting here and now
A whispering world wills us away,
Away from wanderlust.

Welcome to scintillating sky,
To six AM stars, sunset streaks, spider-silk cosmos
searching for summer constellations
seeking solace from insomnia.

Welcome to pealing laughter
Loud laze of campfire (we love campfire!)
And after-dark tetherball
A leaning lullaby
liberating from life and its labours.

Welcome to melodramatic
Morse code and magic
Mastering the art of amusement 
Me, drooping eyelids while memories are being made

Welcome to hungry happiness
To hand games and hideaway
Sep 15


Today you texted me.
I missed you.

Did you miss me as much?
You asked, “what happened to us?”
and I smiled, because you made it sound like
we were boyfriend and girlfriend.
I said something like, “I don’t know. I tried.”
I’m still waiting on a reply.

You were my best friend.
Do you remember the time
we got pringles and twix
and ate and watched movies
and we danced around my room
and talked and talked
and giggled our hearts out
and I felt like I had the bestest friend in the whole world.

We traded our scrunchies:
my pink velvet
for your black matte.

And we met at summer camp!
Of all the places,
summer camp.
We were the perfect best friends there had ever been.
We were invincible.

But I guess things can’t always last forever.

Sep 15


We fell out of love.
Or rather, I did,
because in the foggy haze
of infatuation
and romanticism,
I wandered aimlessly
and never truly settled in one place.
I convinced myself that in your arms
was happiness,
was joy,
and the strength to face anything and everything.

I remember how you gently urged me to change,
told me to soften myself
and to float,
not to remain stony
and solid.
You refused to let me sit.
For awhile, that was okay.

I remember how we sat in a friend's car,
driving home quietly,
my hand in yours
and a twinge of pain
in my shoulder
as I twisted my arm so you could 
grip me by the fingers
and run a thumb across my knuckles sloppily.
It was a warm burn,
gentle but present,
and it ached.

The car rolled to a stop
and I was staring blankly ahead.
You said goodbye,
grabbed me by the jaw,