Sep 08

My New Home

My new home
away from home
for the next few months
is a dorm
on a campus
in a state
three and a half
-four if you count traffic-
hours away from home

Daily self screening
weekly testing
always wearing a mask
constantly washing hands
using hand sanitizer
and staying six feet apart

This is not
‘The freshman experience’
I thought it would be
I should have known
with the way my senior year ended

New faces
new friends
new professors
new protocols
new world

I’m physically exhausted
make that mentally too
but here I am
on an adventure
trying not to completely freak out
about COVID
about social interactions
my grades
my work study job
about life

My new home
away from home
is intimidating
and makes my anxiety go crazy
but at least I’m here
Aug 13

August Flowers

Jul 28

I Don't Write

I don't write fantasy because I can never put those ideas into words
I don't write stories because I always blank on the endings
I don't write during the day because I get too distracted
I write my emotions because I feel them so deeply I fear I might explode if I don't get them out
I write poems because they don't need to make sense as long as they mean something to me
I write at night because I need the world to be silent for me to hear my own voice
 
Jul 27

I Don't Understand

I don't understand the world somedays
It's like I just arrived from a different universe
And I can't wrap my head around the human race
Everyone is different but no one wants to admit it
These differences should be bringing us together and not driving us apart
I don't understand the world somedays
Why does humanity try to change others
It's none of their business what they wear, who they talk to, how they identify, or how they live their life
People can do what they want, it's not for you to decide
I don't understand the world somedays
We are a small speck in a universe
Yet we act like we own it all
We act as if it's impossible for something astronomical to happen that would wipe us all out
But honestly, that could happen
We just don't know
So why are we not living in the moment
Doing what's best for us
Finding happiness and never letting it go
Treating this day as if it could be our last
Jul 23

Time Of Day

I sit here 
Close to noon
Trying to write
And realizing I can’t
Then a new realization hits
I write at night or early morning
Almost all my poems
Have been written while the rest of the world is asleep
Writing comes naturally then
Maybe it's because I have more inspiration
Or maybe it’s because I can focus easier
And let my thoughts flow
Either way
I’m curious about others
And if the time of day affects them too
 
Jul 22

Photography Adventure

Jul 21

The World Is Still Asleep

The world is still asleep
And for a moment, here alone, I feel alright
The birds are singing
And the clouds in the sky are a lovely shade of pink
A deer watches me from a nearby field
It stares as if our roles were reversed
I watch for a minute
Entranced by the way it moves
The air is crisp and cool
Unaware that by noon it will be the opposite
The deer is now out of sight
But not out of mind
I can’t help but think about life
And how this moment could mean nothing
Or 
It could mean everything
Jul 11

How I began to write

I have always loved words. I read a lot of books in elementary school like The Chronicles Of Narnia and The Magic Treehouse Series. It wasn’t until a unit on poetry in middle school that I realized I loved to write too. My teacher had us memorize poems and recite them to the class. The one I distinctly remember is A Dream Within a Dream By Edgar Allan Poe (also below). I still have most of that one memorized. I couldn’t get it out of my head. I remember wondering if I could write anything like that. The last part of that unit was to write ten original poems. That was the beginning of my life as a poet. I enjoyed the entire process of creating those ten poems.
May 08

Short Story: Books and Coffee

A single college student sits with her legs crossed typing tentatively on her computer. The small coffee shop table is just big enough to hold her laptop, two opened notebooks, and a brown ceramic coffee mug. The chair across from her lies vacant, just the way it always has been. Silvia, the owner of this 24-hour café, walks leisurely to her only customer. She doesn’t even bother asking Arya if she wants more coffee; she just pours some into her mug. Arya looks up for a moment to see the clock on the far wall strike 9 p.m. Scanning the room, she realizes for the first time that she’s the only one there. Arya glances out the window to her left into the city street. The snow is falling down gently and sticking to the ground. Her eyes scan over the area across the desolate road. The few streetlamps illuminate the night just enough for Arya to make out some of the nearby businesses. She smiles looking at Lyon’s Library, a place she ventures often.
Apr 21

The Four Elements

Destructive but beautiful
Painful to touch
Mesmerizing to see
Fire draws me in
Daring me to be a little dangerous
The smell of burning wood calms me
Brings me back to a time of tranquility
To a time of leisure and bliss
Something so primitive
Yet I never want to look away
 
Feeling the earth
Beneath my feet
Or laying in the grass all day
The ground is home
I’ve grown up with dirt not concrete
I can’t live without it
It feels cool
And smells like spring
The earth is my solid
Grounding me when I need it
 
Breathing in
Breathing out
Feeling the air travel into my lungs
I take it for granted too often
But the days I do remember are the best
I spend more time using my senses
Just breathing
Focusing on everything around
Nights are the best to stand outside
And look up at an infinite sky
 
I’ve always longed for water

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