Aug 13

rain from the perspective of a five year old

Today it rained again,
For the third time this week.
"Isn't it strange that it's been raining a lot?" my mom asks.
I don't respond.
I watch the rain hit the window,
Drops coalescing and rolling down so effortlessly.
I would go outside and stand away from the trees,
Letting it mess up my already unkempt hair
But it’s salty.
It stings my skin a little.
So I watch as it fills up the bucket I’ve left outside yesterday.
Soon it’s overflowing as the rain comes down stronger
Beating on the grass, weeds, flowers, shrubs
Sweeping away the debris into the sewers.
Water gushes out over the brim of the bucket on all sides
In a way, it’s cathartic. Some hate the rain, but I would rather wait.
"Take your time," I say. We're only separated by a pane of glass.
I look out as high as I can,
Past the tall trees in the distance towards the clouds, sitting in their usual spots.
Aug 13
poem 0 comments challenge: Titles

My Mother's Bookshelf

Little Stranger,
Moby-Dick,
In the Heart of the Sea.

The Jungle,
The Wayward Bus,
The Timekeeper.

The Orchardist,
Great Expectations,
City of Light.

Frankenstein,
Hard Times,
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

This Side of Paradise,
Girl with a Pearl Earring,
A Great and Terrible Beauty.

The Pilot's Wife,
The Miniaturist,
The Old Curiosity Shop.

Magnolia City,
East of Eden,
Gatsby's Girl.
 
Aug 13
poem 2 comments challenge: Woods
iski23's picture

Problems in the west wind

When you walk in to the forest just listen
Trees are whisperers
A sweet maple coos to a sapling
"It's okay it'll be okay"
The little ash sapling speaks thoroughly and calmly
"How much more time do I have the bug will peel off my bark and then where will I go?"
A gruff old pine the towns grump harshly speaks back
"You listen to me not long. The west wind blows problems."
 The maple speaks once more
"All problems have solutions you know."
 
Aug 12

Meteors

Minutes ago,
I saw
flashes of light
falling across the sky.

As I watched,
more stars 
appeared in
that sky.

The red and blue
quickly-moving 
lights
were planes.

I watched
with my sisters
as more
meteors
fell.

I can hardly
describe what
I was
feeling.

Glee?
Invigoration?
Astonishment?

I don't know.

The stars hold my answer,
and they will not tell it.
Aug 12

All-American Dinner

Surrounded by family,
that's the best thing, isn't it?

As I place the mountain
of corn-on-the-cob in front of everyone,
Dad starts to serve the venison
he'd marinated and then grilled.

I made mashed potatoes, too
and worried I hadn't made enough.

I was reassured that I,
in fact, did.

Rolling the corn in butter,
we burnt our hands.
Sipping from cups,
we cooled our throats with milk.

We tossed the finished cobs onto
a spare plate
as we reached
for seconds.

There was no more steak,
but Mom had had a filet mignon.

Dad and I were thanked when dinner
was over,
putting our plates and forks and spoons
in the dishwasher.

Then I went for a ride.
I had gone about seven miles
when Mom caught up to me.
We rode together for a while.

I could feel myself burning the calories off

Aug 10

Little Love

She put daisies in her hair,
little things,
that made her beauty,
even more beautiful.
Her chocolate eyes that,
with love,
swirled and shined,
gave my life a light.
Hands full of fresh flowers,
held tightly,
in those tiny hands,
that held my heart.
And that stolen little heart,
beating alive,
that she held softly,
broke apart over,
and over,
when it no longer felt,
those careful,
beautiful,
hands.
 
Aug 10

when a storm breaks

I can't even see it.
I can't even see
the end to this emptiness.
Darkness.
Deep, deep.
It pulses.
It feels
as though nobody is here.
Nobody cares.
Nobody is listening.

It shows like a thundercloud
swirling within my eyes.
Flashing like lightning.
Dark clouds getting darker.
Thunder getting louder.
All sounds from around
echo
somewhere in my mind.

I can't feel
anything.
I can't hold on
to keep from falling
like the other times.

This time I have fallen.

As thunder booms,
my fists clench.
My words lash out sharply
like bursts of lightning.
Uncontrolled,
in sudden bursts.

But within,
beneath the swirling typhoon,
there is just one thing I am pleading.

Help.

Help me.

But when I can't see the light at the end,
Aug 10

The Sky I See Everyday

The sky I see
looks so familiar
to everyone that
sees it.

It's because it's the same sky
same trees
same sunset
same everything.

There's no difference in the colors.
No difference in the leaves.
But somehow
it changes.

It changes when the grapes grow on the vines,
when the blueberries ripen,
when the monarchs come,
and lay their eggs.

It changes when the snow falls,
when the leaves fall,
when my dog leaps for mosquitos
biting her hide.

It always changes, this sky I see everyday.
Aug 10

WITCH

Who could defend us,
when we were hanged,
burned at the stake,
and shunned by those,
who believed that we,
the people who walk,
amongst ourselves,
singing "Blessed Be!"
were sipping from,
the devil's hand?
Who would believe,
that many women,
and many children,
old and oh so young,
were taken away by those,
who could only believe,
in one god,
and only one?
And who would think,
that after many years,
the days when we,
those who sing "Blessed Be!"
and who walk,
the same rythm,
but in a different tune,
were hushed,
and denounced,
by people afraid of something,
that has been misunderstood,
for hundreds of years,
is not yet over?
The Goddess smiles,
in the form of the pearlescent moon,
and I shall too.
 
Aug 10

The rotted woman I saw in my dream

Her body jerked in sudden,
abrupt,
movements.
Her hair was dark and long,
thin,
strands.
The eyes of someone lost,
gone,
dead,
glared with their hard white,
shells,
open.
Her dress was shredded,
stained,
worn,
and the scent of a corpse,
living,
walking,
bled into her deadly aura.
Teeth,
gritting.
A once so delightful grin,
cold,
rotted.
 
Aug 10
Fiona Ella's picture

disorganized thoughts

i've been back for exactly a week. 
one week of sitting at home watching television,
listening to music,
and trying to convince myself i'm writing. 
one week of driving on the wrong side of the road
and pricing things in pounds
when they should be dollars. 
one week of feeling like what little self-confidence i gained
dribble down the drain and away. 
one week of constant reminders to do my precourse work. 
i'm not sleeping well.
it's been so hot, 
you lay down at night and doze in bursts until morning, 
willing yourself not to look at the clock. 
my mother insists i'm jetlagged. 
i never heard of anyone staying jetlagged for a week. 
one of my dad's friends offered to read my television series scripts.
he's a screenwriter, he's produced some things
and even though this is what i wanted--
to be taken seriously--
i don't know if i deserve it. 
Aug 10
Mr. What a drag's picture

YOU

It's true that life can be so unpredictable and unreasonable
But that doesn't give you the reason to quit and forget all you ever had
To shut away everything you hold dear down in your heart
And run away, away in the dark of your doom.

But with all these decisions you make, you  got to remember, that you are living in reality
And here, nothing ever comes easy, nothing
It takes people years of hard work to get what they want in order to be truly happy
And sometimes, they die trying.

But you, life just turn you down once
And yet, you are crying like a baby who misses his/her mom
You love when things come easily to you
But this is reality man,  things don't always come the way you want them to.

Those successful people you see ou there
They didn't become successful just by thinking about it
They become successful but working hard to their limits
And not by wanting it.
Aug 10

I Wish / Fake Wounds / Bells

i
our dirty faces
are what the sun sees
every morning.

the water we drink
is only enough
for us and us alone.

turning people away
is not something we like
to do.

it breaks my heart
every 
time.

we leave the tents
to see their bodies
already being ravaged.

this world is a harsh one
and only the strong survive.
i wish children weren't the victims.


ii
the metal bars
in front of our faces
make the world seem so small.

we can't see past our noses
in the pitch-black night
nor in the bright day.

the shackles around our wrists
keep us tied to this cold, cold earth
and never let us go.

collars strangle us
leaving bruises
and the feeling of loss.

but are they really there?
or is it us, hiding our faces
unwilling to let others see us?
Aug 10

49 flames.

It is sometimes that i realize how much 

I love him

Like when I am supposed to be 

Sleeping; 

But instead i am lying awake listening

To him bustle about 

The kitchen underneath 

Me

And i catch 

A small smile 

Tugging at me 

As he hums—

albeit off key—

a tune that i once sung to him. 

Or when i am in the car and 

I can feel his voice vibrating in

The leather seats as 

We swerve down the road. 

(his hands never were steady.) 

it comes to me when i embrace him, 

inhaling the smell of coffee beans and lost sleep lingering on his cotton shirt. 

It’s when i daydream of when i used to beg to ride on his shoulders, and when i cry silently when he seems lost in his own 

Hopelessness

Stress

Dedicated. 
Aug 10

49 flames.

It is sometimes that i realize how much 

I love him

Like when I am supposed to be 

Sleeping; 

But instead i am lying awake listening

To him bustle about 

The kitchen underneath 

Me

And i catch 

A small smile 

Tugging at me 

As he hums—

albeit off key—

a tune that i once sung to him. 

Or when i am in the car and 

I can feel his voice vibrating in

The leather seats as 

We swerve down the road. 

(his hands never were steady.) 

it comes to me when i embrace him, 

inhaling the smell of coffee beans and lost sleep lingering on his cotton shirt. 

It’s when i daydream of when i used to beg to ride on his shoulders, and when i cry silently when he seems lost in his own 

Hopelessness

Stress

Dedicated. 
Aug 10

what i will tell the hairdresser

Freedom, I used to think,
was long hair billowing
behind me in the wind
split ends and bed head and braids
down my back.

I used to mourn when
the girls I knew with long beautiful hair—
red, mostly, like tendrils of fire—
cut it all off.
Who would shed their phoenix feathers?

Now the hair which I took such care
to grow out, always growing out,
weighs upon my neck
strangles me when I lay it on my pillow,
little coils of rope, still wet.

I think I know those girls-turned-women
for I, too, thirst for an unfamiliar freedom—
one where the wind strokes my shoulders
instead of toying with dead cells—
a new kind of confidence, power, beauty.

When before have I wanted to shed the past?
 
Aug 09

Rollercoaster

I could tell you right now how a rollercoaster feels.

The feeling of the rickety wooden boards underneath your feet,
the screech of brakes as the cars comes to a stop.

The clanging of safety belts, harnesses
coming undone as their passengers get out.

"That was so cool!" one would say.
"Let's do it again!" Their friend would reply.

They'd laugh, leave the ride,
then come back to the line again.

Now it's your turn.

You clamber into the cart, sitting in the sloped seat,
one whose harness came over your head.

You sit next to your friend, your special somebody
as they, too, strap in.

A belt connects to the harness,
and an attendant comes 'round.

Everything's safe and sound.
The operators raise their thumbs-ups.

"Clear!" they say, one after another.
"Enjoy the ride," the main operator says.
Aug 09

Clean Ultra Fresh Lemon Scented Dish Soap

Let's face it, we've all been there. 
The dying urge to relieve your bladder must come first
even if it means using a God-forsaken gas station bathroom to do so. 

I told my dad to stand guard outside the flimsy door,
that surprisingly didn't lock. 

I shut the door and came face to face with what a small glimpse of Hell might look like. 
Floor to ceiling tiles, covered in years of foreign substances
only one can imagine what might be.

I didn't inhale through my nose,
although that made me wonder if I could then taste the smell,
so I went back to breathing through my nostrils. 

I did my business, quick as could be
and approach the cracked sink in the corner of the small closet. 

I looked around for the soap dispenser and came up with nothing. 
Then I noticed it. 

I kind of laughed, although laughing required breathing normally,
Aug 09

Brain Waves

I'm not going to lie, I'm scared. scared. I'm always the one to smell fear before the others taste. see no evil, speak  no evil, hear no evil. i am a child that has a shadow of pure energy. energy purified. i see with my lips. i see. i see, with my lips. i put my hands to the sky because I want to feel the morning love. clouds. coffee. cuddles. my brain is like a drain, it only sees one way. One way. on these days i put my blue dress on. pink. red. orange. as a light stands at my feet. spotlight, stop shinning you're scaring me. some say gold is the proudest metals. stone. gravel. and i understand because I feel bronzed of my silver.  My silver. the silver has remained in my hair. remain. remained. remains. I'm on one train. yellow bricks. that takes my mind off the world's  codes. 1 2 3. if I am strong why must I be reminded.  blood in my eyes but same as it is in yours. sssssssh. I'm finding the white rabbit but the smile gave me all the directions. N. E. S. W.
Aug 09

17-year-old Thoughts on a Thursday Morning


I'm making jam at 8:30 in the morning,
a humid, rainy morning. 

I wonder if this isn't Vermont,
and instead, everyone's been fooling me;
I must be in Florida. 

I look over my shoulder and
see a hummingbird drinking from that fake red flower we put up
and worry if the fox is near the chickens,
who cluck blissfully in their pen. 

I wonder if next year I'll be New York City,
grabbing coffee in a crowded bakery with steamy windows. 

Or taking a stroll around the quiet streets of Santa Barbara, 
my hair getting lighter the longer I stay in the sun.

Or watching the leaves slowly turn gold,
as I take a bus into Boston for an escape of theater and gardens.

Or maybe I'll be in Colorado,
skiing...which I haven't done in years. 

I could be anywhere.

It's an exciting time to be alive, isn't it?