new stars and old stars are like fine wine the older it is in the cellar of space the more divine
when you look into a star you are looking into the eyes of a dog blackness and nothingness surrounding the special brownness in the iris fading into the vicinity appearing a shade of a hershey’s chocolate bar
if a fallen star appeared at my doorstep it would shimmer and shine forcing me to put on my sunglasses and hands up high
it would taste like the scrumptious lemon tart my sister makes with all of its lemony heavenly desires in the middle the crust tasting like cupcake batter
smelling like the lavender oil in the shower the sunflowers in the plug-in air freshener the vanilla candle in the sunroom the yellowness
touching it has the feel of a smooth glossy samsung gripping it has the texture of a green beanbag cushion sensing its energy
The last 48 hours have been the most stressful of my life. Today, I have realised how thankful I should be towards my family, my friends, and, most importantly, my teachers and my principal. Anyways, I'm coming back to YWP and going to be sharing my poems again. This photograph was taken by my brother after all of the chaos subsided and it all ended. Relieved.
I immediately got sucked into his world and found an open world a world with purple sky and lightning flashing every few seconds over a dark, cloudy ground
The world stretched out for miles I could see a circle of airy figures surrounding one person In the circle I saw the people he loved and disappointed and lost
I saw him with his knees to the floor bent down, crying into his palm I saw that he was scared scared to carry on with life Because the mistakes he made haunted him, mistakes he could not uncorrect himself
I’m sorry I let you all down. I’m sorry I’m sorry
I walked over to him, took my hands with his and we stood as I gazed at him as his sobbing face stared at the ground
how miserable I felt two poems ago writing in single lines
I felt frustrated what is going wrong?
I felt confused what am I writing about?
I felt nothing why can I not have that feeling that joy that excitement that freedom that every poet feels?
I realized that I had lost myself that you were lost that I was alone that you were alone my stanzas my beloved stanzas
every poet starts with the individual lines
it’s their first time after all learning the craft of poetry but once you find her find my stanzas you start feeling an emotion this extinct effervescent emotion which floods your body feeling bursts of joy throughout the day
you feel the hugs you feel the smiles you feel the night sky kisses