Apr 06

Burnt Out

It's hard to write 
a fiery romance
when your eyelids
are drooping, 
half closed

I wanted the poem
To have a fire theme
seared, smoky, flavorful
Not the most original idea
I admit
But it ended up
being burnt to a crisp
And dipped in
cheese fondue

Sleep is taunting me
singing it's sweet lullaby
but my mind is still racing
with the most useless thoughts
I yearn for the blank nothingness
Just let me sleep!
Apr 04


Stuck in this room
With so much to do
But not really wanting
To do it

I should play my viola
Or I'm going to get rusty
But the lonely music stand
Doesn't compel me
How I yearned for a solo
Once upon a time
Now I can't bear
To play

Without the swell
Of music 
Roaring and whispering
Being a part
of a greater whole
A symphony
Sounds better 
Than my playing

I could probably
read a book
Pick one from inside
The bursting gray bin
Some well loved
With familiar worn pages
Some brand new
Waiting to be
set free

But those pages
don't call to me
Like they once did before
I wish I could go
to the library
Kneel on the rough floors
To beg the shelves 
for the medicine I need
For the characters to come to life
So I don't feel so desolately
Apr 02

Purple Gray

Or rather 
this morning
The night sky is purple gray
Unlike what
romantic poems say

I can't tell
if it's the light
beaming from streetlamps
intruding on the night
the man-made
piece of day
because the stars
were not enough

Or the gloomy storm clouds
an endless swath of gray
that have descended 
on sunny LA
it seems
they are here to stay
Stifling the vastness
Of the open sky

Either way
Via light pollution
Or climate change
Yet another thing
we humans
Have ruined
Apr 02

Scrambled Eggs

This year
Easter has been cancelled
because the world 
has turned into
scrambled eggs

our smooth protection
was just a facade
too fragile
for the likes of our world
now cracked
beyond repair

Right now it looks
like a big ol' mess
but look!
it's sizzling
add some pepper
and a pinch of salt
and we can have
scrambled eggs

the easter bunny
won't come this year
no egg hunts
no candy
what a tragedy

but at least
at the end of it all
we'll have 
scrambled eggs
Apr 01
poem 0 comments challenge: CJP-Miss

The Normalcy of a School Day

I can't say I miss the vicous cycle
of getting ready for school
when I don't remember turning off my alarm
but end up scrambling unsuccessfully to
or the moment in the car
when I look down at my clothes
and find them horribly mismatched

What I do miss
is the breath of fresh air 
the sunlight just
breaking through the clouds
filtered through emerald leaves
the bite of a chilly breeze
on my face
when I get to school
two minutes late
the students all rushing 
like silver minnows
this way and that
in bustling silence
the moment I revel
in how happy
even a mundane
Monday morning
makes me feel
what I dork I am
strolling through the halls
smiling at just the pure joy
of being alive

I even miss
the blaring bell
that keeps me on schedule
and snaps me out
Mar 31

Good Enough

My heart thuds in my chest
Faster than it probably should be
Considering that I haven't done
Any physical activity 
In weeks

My soul is still hoping
Just recently repaired
From the last shots of rejection
And foolish as I am
I've gone and put myself out there

Perhaps that is the beauty
Of being young
We heal faster than we should
Ripping off the scab 
The itch was unbearable
It'll leave a scar

We feel things deeply
Be it excitement or pain
The shock goes down
To the very core of who we are
It is time to learn
To stop gambling with my soul

I can clearly recall 
Opening the email in chem
They said "outstanding"
But I read "not enough"
Wallowing in my incompetence
The world becomes spots of color
Seen through tears that won't fall

Sure, I say that I'm a writer
But sometimes I feel like
Mar 31
poem 0 comments challenge: SHELTER

by and by

Under the shelter of my roof, 
hours bleed into days
days blend into months
and months blur into years
We ease into the simple monotony,
by and by

This home is the nest
in which my loving parents raise 
their three little chicks,
princess, blue jay, chickadee
One day each will set out on their own 
by and by

The wind snarls as it rushes past
snatching the raindrops that cling to the eaves
unable to blow down this house of bricks.
Inside, I nestle in a cocoon of blankets,
where I will fall asleep with an open book in hand
by and by

Regardless of the day I've had,
of what lies I've heard and said 
The worn key in my hand
still promises a safe haven
to which I always return 
by and by 

I've spent innumerable hours staring up,
not towards the renowed stars or the dazzling night sky,
but at the smooth ridges of this stucco roof