Mar 10
poem 0 comments challenge: Replaced
Deleonaa's picture

where have you gone

Just after the sun came up
dew still fresh on the plants sitting on the terrace,
you would open your eyes and you would smile.
You would reach up for me,
sleep lingering in your eyes.
We would walk to the kitchen,
I would put you in your chair. 
You would babble to me of your dreams
as I fixed you breakfast.
Your sister would run into the kitchen, 
her curls bouncing
and she would climb up and kiss you a hundred times.
I would watch, thanking my lucky stars. 
But now is different.
Oh, how I miss you, 
I miss the way you loved the snow, a true Vermont baby we would say.
I miss you holding my face with your itty-bitty fingers,
staring into my eyes.
I miss your sweet laugh, deep in your belly,
as your Dad ticked your feet.
Your sister misses you, 
she misses you more than anything.
We miss how you would crawl around the living room grinning, 
Feb 26
Deleonaa's picture

Beautifully Heartbreaking.

Pick up a book and start to read
close your eyes and let yourself feel
let the story take you through it all
be encompassed in the bliss of love 
get lost in the fantasy that is fiction
feel as the tears spill down your cheeks
smile as butterflies swim through your stomach 
watch yourself be torn between feelings of love and hate
feel the words sinking into your skin 
let yourself be broken
put the book down and pace the room
let your thoughts spin you in circles
pick up the book again
savor each page as it is the last
when you reach the final page, smile
you have done something great
you have let yourself feel all the feelings
all the feelings we try to suppress
you have done something beautiful
beautifully heartbreaking.








 
Nov 27
Deleonaa's picture

Smiling Sadly


When we're at the store, I duck my head.
It hangs low.
I memorize the shelves.
When I know it's safe, I pick it up.
Checkout. The worst
It is OK, I know it's not
Try this one

This one

This one

This one

Mom says
Take her to the candy section
I grab your hand, Pull you close
Your eyes wide
I lead you to the gumdrops, the jelly beans,
This one
This one

My heart is racing. I turn my head
I see.
Her pride is low.
We leave. No candy
No chips, no bread.
Those prescription bottles are gone too.
No, you eat, I’m not hungry
Mom watches u eat, smiling sadly
We share the box of mac and cheese
I push it to you… we both shovel it into our mouths.
She only takes small sips of water
 When  we are finished she takes the last noodle
Then throws it away.

 
Nov 24
Deleonaa's picture

21st Century Royalty

She is the "cloud-walker," whose head is above the clouds, dreaming of a world spun by her own imagination.
He is the "golden boy," the one who doesn't have to wear a crown to be considered royalty.
Her eyes sparkle with wonder.
His eyes flicker with charm.
She dreams of words that will alter the way we see the world in front of us.
He wonders of the opportunities that will be presented in front of him.
She worries that their isn't enough time.
He rests knowing he has earned the praise of many.
She yells but know her voice is just one drop in great big ocean.
He whispers and the room goes silent.
So tell me, what makes him the roylty of this strange thing we call the twenty first century?
 
Apr 24
Deleonaa's picture

It's My Choice

Am I lost in a sea of nameless faces?
Or am I a new piece of clay, ready to be molded?
This is my chance.
I am no longer the one you call "quiet" 
I am am no longer the one who you watch opening the crumpled paper, "loser" it says written in red pen.
Is this my chance?
Or maybe this is just a rewind. I guess all toys are shiny once. 
So, I stand here in the hallway, on my first day. About to make a choice. 
I wrack my brain, on the brink of making the decision. 
Do I pick hope and turn down the hallway as a new person. 
Or do I pick despair, and walk silently through swarms of people, quietly. Then I will sit in class, and think of my friends, waiting for the bus on their first day. 
Do I retrieve my phone from the depths of my backpack, look engaged a world of my own. 
Or do I pick my head up, make eye contact with the end of hall and walk, triumphantly, into my future. 
The choice is mine. 
 
Feb 15
fiction 1 comment challenge: I Am
Deleonaa's picture

I am...

I am the one with long hair, the color of milk chocolate that turns the color of golden honey during those long, lazy summer months.
The one who looks up when she thinks, like the ideas are floating into the periwinkle blue sky. 
I am the one who loves the rain. Maybe it's those memories of dancing in the street, watching the sidewalk chalk run in a colorful stream down the block.
I am the one who loves the road. It's the way you laugh about nothing. And the way hours go by just watching the sun chasing the clouds. 
I am also the one who loves telling jokes. It's the that’s-so-not-funny-it-is look you get once you’ve told the punchline. The way it breaks the ice when you’re standing in silence.
I am the one who will give you a pep talk when I am crying. The one who will laugh about anything. I am the one who do anything to make you smile. 



#vtwrites18




Jan 22
poem 0 comments challenge: Forest
Deleonaa's picture

Forest


I am trapped in a forest
Either way I go, I will be lost
My life is like the forest
My feet traveling bare, pushing through the tall trees
I travel alone
The trees whisper words I don’t understand 
I come upon a diverge in the woods, 
The trees waving at me with there long, thin arms
The way I go, my choice
Wind in my ears pushing me one, while my brain pushing me another. 
I pick the way my feet lead, across the green moss and deeper into the woods
My life is the forest
Sometimes the sun is covered by the branches 
But when I climb the trees and lift my head
I will see
That my life is a forest
No matter where you go, you are never alone. 
Jan 08
Deleonaa's picture

All the stars


When my bleary eyes opened, I saw nothing. I felt like I was still asleep, but I felt my lips, dry. Dehydrated from the night. I was awake. It was only the clear memory of where furniture was in my room, that led my to the door without running into something. The clock was blinking, the power was out. It was if I lived in a ghost town. I scurried to the kitchen and poured myself some water. As the water droplets slipped down my throat, I felt like I was a desert and the water was rain, after a long dry season. I tiptoed to my grandma's room and whispered “gramma, are you awake, I think the power is out.” She stirred and for a moment I paused and thought, “should I have woke her up” “Addie, is that you.” She said, sleep clinging to her voice. “Ya” I said and clung to the door. She stood up slowly, her eyes adjusting, and we both walked to the front door. I gasped. The sky was purple and the stars were like diamonds, in the sky above.
Nov 27
Deleonaa's picture

Why

Never ask why. Sometimes though, when I am alone, I dash up the hill, the cool air whistling in my ear. I lay on the damp grass and stare up into the cloudy, bright sky, and I start to wonder “why can’t I wonder, why can’t I ask why” maybe it’s a rule, from a kingdom far far away. Maybe we actually all do think the same. Maybe when I’m older I will be given all the secrets. They will be wrapped in a box, when I open it all my questions will have answers. Why can’t I fly? Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green? Do some people know the answer to my questions? But when I ask, nobody knows. 
 
Oct 22
Deleonaa's picture

The house

It seems as soon as fall comes, children disappear from playing in the street, people wrap up in coats and the street empties, making a eerie silence. “You can't back from a dare,” Lissa argue as we stood about 6 feet from the old brick house children always skipped on halloween. The one parents gossiped about and the house that always seemed to be stuck in a time warp. “Fine” I said crossing my arms pointedly. “Then do it, you have to go in there.” She says sticking her nose at me. I march from where we are standing and onto the overgrown lawn where the house sits. I tiptoe, nervously as if a baby is sleeping inside onto the rotted steps, my brain is telling me to turn around. I reach my hand onto a rusted handle, I yank the door open, sounding like it is off its hinges. When my bare eyes react to what I see, I stand there, no time passing, dumbfound. 
 

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