Dec 05
poem 1 comment challenge: Dickinson

The time you still had

You still have time
Time to do this, time to do that
You’re early, you’re late
Tick Tock 
We are running out 
You still have time 
First sentence then junior year 
APs, SATs, pencils down time's up 
Senior year so far away 
But best start early on those essays
Applied, rejected, waitlisted, accepted
College, 4 more years 
Senior year, graduation 
New year
You still got time 
But don’t take too long on your walk
23, important meeting, late
I am running behind be there soon - sent 
Hurry quick, 6th gear, faster 
Just go
You had time 
Time of death, 2:15 p.m.
1 new message: No prob. Running behind 2
You still had time, so much time

May 01


Jan 13

Where are you from?

I was either five or six years old when I came up with a simple answer to a question our family often faced which always seemed to require long explanations. We were in Kampala, Uganda, where we lived until I was seven, walking to get ice creams when a woman we didn’t know stopped us to ask where we were from.

My parents knew she wasn’t asking which area of the city we lived in, so they launched into their usual complicated explanation, mentioning that my father was born in Tanzania but grew up in the United Kingdom; that my mother, who was born in the United States, was Irish by family background; that I was born in the Rakai district of Uganda, and my older sister in North Carolina.

It is tempting now to give myself a more interesting motive, but I am pretty sure I was just trying to get us to the ice cream stand faster when I cut the conversation short, jumping in and blurting out, “But actually, we’re from Hong Kong.”
Dec 03

Tomorrow I Hope

Tomorrow I hope 

will be better than today

and yesterday combiened

Tomorrow I hope

I will grow an extra inch 

or two

Tomorrow I hope 

I will learn to ride my bike 

and tie my shoes

Tomorrow I hope 

I will jump in puddles 

wearing my red wellington boots

Tomorrow I hope

will always be a day away and never today
Dec 03

The mannequin

The mannequin lives a perfect and simple life.

As an empty hourglass,

she creates the ideal silhouette,

hips out and stomach in,

her breasts held up by an invisible force.

Many pay mind only to the clothes she holds. 

No one whistles at her, grabs her breast, grinds against her. 

It is just not done, not in public.

She stands hour after hour, month after month, year after year,

yet she never ages, she is always

frozen, ironic, as in our world “hot” she would be called.

An expressionless face stares out into the…

She knows all, watches child to adult. 

They have grown,

but she remains the same

in her perfect, simple yet still life.
Oct 07

The Handmaid's Child: Under His Eye

This is a poem that is like a sequel to Margret Attwood's dystopian fiction novel "Handmaid's Tale". Those unfamiliar with the novel; the story is of women (a Handmaid) living a society that oppresses and censors a lot of things. This poem takes that  brings it to the future, where everything in the book has become more exaggerated and extreme

Jan 12

Find me

Find Me

Find me where the river meets the sea
Where the fish begin to breath
Where the apples from the trees are no more

Find me
Where the smoke fills me lungs
With a feeling unknown
cant breath

Find me,
At  mountain tops of the pearly gates,
Where the gods themselves reach and shake
My hands so small so pale
Where the heart within the body exist no more
But the soul is all you need to find me
Find me my love

Find me
Here I will wait
Day by day
Night to Morn

when you reach that gate
my hands among the greatest
I will reach down 
and be with you once again
Oct 23

The Pond

Oct 12

The wide awake Dreamer

Oct 12

The wide awake Dreamer