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Jun 11
poem
elise.writer

Each flitting fractal

Each flitting fractal of darkened gray
Almost but not quite black
Flashes in a hollowed brightness
At just the right angle

Blurry blotches of fatigued white
Sprout from a dotted canvas
Of everyday softened gray
Reach around patches of dark

Mind-boggling elements
Impossible to memorize still unite
In a little clump of metal and sand
And light and dark

If they didn't come together
There would be no stone at all
If they kept anything from each other
There would be no stone at all

Their unyielding trust is responsible
For the little clump of metal and sand
And light and dark
That whispers and glints and grins

Because each flitting fractal of metal and sand
And light and dark and unfiltered tears
Knows the difference between not lying
And telling the truth
 
Read More
Posted: 06.11.22
Jun 10
poem challenge: I am ...
wings of fire's picture
wings of fire

That girl


I am the girl drawing
alone in the empty art room,
a paintbrush in hand.

I am the girl who doesn't bother looking in the mirror.
I don't care what I see.

I'm the individual,
the girl who walks on her own path,
who doesn't care what anyone else thinks.

I'm fierce.
I'm loud.
I'm the girl who is not afraid to fight.
Read More
Posted: 06.10.22
Jun 09
nonfiction
Geri

My Head Underground

Is it wrong for me to ask so much of the world? To ask it to be happy, healthy, and kind? My concern is innately selfish, since my own well being depends on its state of mind.  

It cries and screams that it's given me so much. I keep scraping the bottom of the barrel, carving out cavern after cavern because I want a deeper meaning. I need a deeper meaning. The shallow love I’ve been given isn’t enough because the water barely reaches my shoulder making me contort and twist to fully submerge myself. 

I look out with pouty lips like a petulant child and a tired forehead like an old soul. I have spent so much time taking but not giving, begging but not getting, waiting or running for a change. I know anything worth doing must be done myself. But how? How do I wake the world when the universe remains deep in slumber? 
Read More
Posted: 06.09.22
Jun 07
poem
murious_w

Twisted ankles

getting used to strangers
not returning smiles on 
the sidewalk makes you
not wish to smile in the
first place and at some
point you get far too
accustomed to twisted
ankles and getting pushed
to the side that when the
path clears up and you can
walk wherever you wish
you stick with familiar pain
because that is everything
you know and you don't
want to feel lost and alone
so when the strangers smile
you aren't quite sure how
to smile back, and when
you are always being told no
you don't know how to react
to the word yes and when
you are used to being treated
a certain way and you call 
that love, when you lose it
you think your life is over
but it's really just on hold
and you're not sure how to
start it again, it's quite a
shame to get used to pain
and it makes it so you can't let go
of twisted ankles because
Read More
Posted: 06.07.22
Jun 06
poem
Scarry Night

Just a Name

My eyes,
they hold my experiences.
My lips,
they hold my words.
My ears,
they hold the sounds that have helped,
and the ones that have harmed.
My fingertips,
they contain the slight callouses 
built up by the hours of violin.
My feet,
torn and blistered,
dancing for me. 
And my mind,
consisting of memories,
consisting of knowledge,
consisting of everything that makes me
me. 
I have a name,
but that is not what defines me.
My name is not what my friends 
choose to laugh with.
My name is not what my family 
chooses to love. 
My name is not who I am,
although it can be a part of me,
and it is. 
But it is not all of me. 

 
Read More
Posted: 06.06.22
Jun 06
poem
ZoeBee

Measuring my daughter

I will not birth my daughter onto a scale
She will not be measured in pounds or ounces
My stomach will not deflate by inches or shirt sizes
I will measure my daughter in laughs and babbles, then toddles and wobbles, then monkey bars and scraped knees
We will eat ice cream and zucchini, on hot nights we will order fast food fries from a cheap drive-in run by highschool girls
And I will want to hold their hands and shake their heads and tell them to measure themselves with dandelion crowns and speeding tickets
I will measure my daughter in the short-stories she writes, the dress code violations she gathers like trophies, the baby birds she saves in boxes
I will make her cry when she asks for a scale and I say no, I will make her scream when I delete her calorie-counting app and bring home pie
Cherry will be her favourite and she will ask me to hide it at the back of the fridge
Read More
Posted: 06.06.22
Jun 05
poem challenge: Writing 2022
Pridejaguar13

A Living Paradox

I want to be flashy
I'm just not quite ready yet
I want to show the world my art
I'm just not quite ready yet
I want to be fashionable
I'm just not quite ready yet
I'm a rough draft
I need editing before I can show off 
Stand out
Turn heads
Be me.
As much as I want to stand out
I also want to remain unnoticed
Be a rainbow and a cloud at the same time
And someday
Someday I'll be the one no one can not see
But for now I'll be the almost no one can truly see
Read More
Posted: 06.05.22
Jun 03
poem challenge: Definition
raphaellalaurence's picture
raphaellalaurence

Moth

swimming in a midnight stew of silver sky
as light as the froth blown from the seas
the liquid moonlight cries, "come here!"

shimmering your sandy glow like
december mist illuminated by the quiet porch light
you hear colors when she calls your name

swirling towards her faint glow
you drink her light like nectar

sprinkling sugar on skin
made of your powdered dust you
glide in your repetitive pattern

shivers a luminous beating heart
cupped in the hands of a honeysuckle's flower

shaped by micro-feathers and
pocket-sized wings
a boneless body made of paper-thin glass
too delicate for
brittle human hands to touch
Read More
Posted: 06.03.22
Jun 03
poem
Sawyer Fell

Poetry in my everyday

My life is not nearly as poetic
as the nature of humanity.
However, if you weave the right words together,
anything can become poetry.

The life cycle represents how life is round
just as Keats once said.
The forest cycles through seasons like emotions
just as Mary Oliver once said.

My hair is like fire, unruly and flowing, feeding off the sun.
My shoes are practically tarnished from miles of steps in the wrong size.
My room is cluttered in an organized way, mimicking my thoughts.
My soul is content knowing it will return to the earth someday. 


 
Read More
Posted: 06.03.22
Jun 01
poem challenge: Writing 2022
BenWetherell's picture
BenWetherell

Free Write

To imagine,
To lose yourself
To thoughts of creation,
To dreams of coming times,
To think of life past, future,
To avoid looking in front of you,
To envision what you think should be happening,
You make yourself believe that you are right,
You think today's life as the past,
You envision today just like yesterday,
You try to stall change,
You lose the fight,
You imagine winning,
You avoid.

 
Read More
Posted: 06.01.22
Jun 01
poem, nonfiction, opinion
Maria's picture
Maria

Warrior women

A warrior princess 
With golden armor 
And an aluminum core 
Told me to keep my anger 

Let it boil and let it rise 
Until the steam hits your tongue 
And when they chime how you’re too young 
Breathe fire from your soul 

Let your words be the embers 
Fallen at their feet
Don’t let your tears put out heat 
Watch it burn slowly 

Warrior goddess princess – queen 
With armor that’s both palpable and strong 
Teaches me how my anger is passion 
And my directness is professional 
Shows me that saying no is not being disagreeable 
Just as crying is not weak or womanly 
But humanly 

These lessons I know to be true 
If they are the only facts that I’ll ever know
Because warrior goddess princess queen
Is what I see

Read More
Posted: 06.01.22
May 30
poem challenge: I will ...
star

This summer, I will

This summer, I will
make the most of
the sun shining on me,
the blinding green 
of the woods
outside my window,
and the cool water
of the lake
near my house.

This summer, I will
make the most of
where I will be going:
a magical land
I am returning to,
but really,
it feels like I never left.

This summer, I will
see my friends,
discovering new things about them
you learn when you are not in school.

This summer, I will
breathe last year out,
inhale, exhale.
It was a good year.
I learned to be myself
(and who that really was.)
But now,
I am ready for a new year,
new experiences.

More than that, though,
I am ready to see the sun dance along the porch,
the leaves swaying in the trees,
to know that I have three months ahead of me,
before I choose electives,
compare schedules with my friends,
Read More
Posted: 05.30.22
May 28
poem challenge: I will ...
fitzgerg's picture
fitzgerg

This Summer is Mine

This summer, I will be reborn.
I will rise from the ashes that
have been these past few years.

I will live
life more fully than it
has ever been lived.

I will take every chance
I get, because I have nothing
left to lose.

This summer, I will do it,
because no one else is
going to do it for me.

I will take advantage of being
young and able
to do so many extraordinary things.

I will savor every minute
of the adventures life
has to offer me.

This summer, I will try to forget.
I won't think about 
what I had and don't have
anymore.

I won't relive the moments 
that made me so happy now
I cry.

I won't think 
too hard about where I have
been and the people I knew. 

This summer is mine
if I live it,
and it could easily
be yours too.
Read More
Posted: 05.28.22
May 26
poem challenge: Uvalde
Geri

Why?

I would place my hand on your beating heart and ask you why. 
Force you to look into my eyes and ask you why. 
Stroke your grandmother's hair and ask her why.
Pick the lock at the sporting shop and ask him why. 
Read your Facebook posts and wonder why. 
Chase after your car and scream out why. 
Go through every classroom and whisper why. 
I would let you see me cry if only to answer why. 
But in your death, you committed the greatest crime of all. 
No explanation. 
Not a single word. 
You just took your gun 
and your hate 
and your pain 
and left. 

In response to the challenge, Uvalde. 
 
Read More
Posted: 05.26.22
May 26
poem
Willcox Elliott

The forest

The still air, motionless without wind,
Mosquitoes buzzing around my head,
The slight rustle of people's footsteps,
& the quiet chirp of a songbird.

Dry beech leaves cover the forest floor,
A thick canopy of trees partially blocks out the sun,
Creating dancing sunlight across the roots, rocks & brambles.
I sigh, tired after a long night of sleeping in a tent.

A decaying log shifts under the weight of my foot,
Its deep, dark brown insides are a hotel for insects & moss.
The stump of the fallen tree sits lonely
At the edge of the rotting carcass.



 
Read More
Posted: 05.26.22
May 25
poem
ashlyn_foley's picture
ashlyn_foley

Young Girl, My Hero

Young girl, you are beautiful
Your smile beams light and joy
Your laugh is infectious
If only more people were like you

You are a princess
Wearing gowns and tiaras
Slipping on your little silver shoe that fits like a glove
You, my dear, are loved by them all

A storyteller is what you are
Jumping from this story to the next
There is no keeping up with your tumbling words
And those words are lovely,
Truly wonderful

When I grow up I want to be like you
I want to laugh so much it starts to hurt
I want to share my stories with everyone I meet
I want to dress up and no longer fear what people will say

You, my darling, are my hero
Someone I will think of in moments of fear
Your laugh will stay in my head
Drowning out the noise from the rest of the world
Thank you for simply being you
Thank you for giving me hope

 
Read More
Posted: 05.25.22
May 23
poem
elise.writer

Facets of the Cosmos

I remember
When the constellations twinkled
Hidden lines drawn between the brightest and the lightest
Like a tunnel, whispering unspoken truths
Joy hidden between flickering candles of the night

Each yearning and suffering
Yet knowingly in harmony

When the earth turns its back on the sun
To gaze at bright white lanterns amidst darkness
We are offered a sense of comfort in the constellations
If we have the strength to summon it

Infinite facets of the cosmos
How different are they after all?

Ceasing to keep secrets from one another

Meanwhile we bury our honesties and hide
To claim some foreign sense of belonging
Or is it because we only keep them from ourselves?
Read More
Posted: 05.23.22
May 23
opinion
roxyforthewin

Watching for omens

I often see omens in the natural world. I don't mean that in the weird ooky-spooky sense, I only mean that when I see a hawk, I like to think it's my grandma saying hi from the world to come. I see a blue butterfly and I wonder where it's headed – if it's on its way to becoming a sign for someone else. I'm sure I've missed or at least misinterpreted many signs from the universe in my life, but things always seem to have worked out anyway.
Read More
Posted: 05.23.22
May 23
poem
yejunee

today

today, i drop a blueberry on my bedsheets 
and watch as it stains, 
a blotch of dark bruise-purple 
that doesn't come out no matter how much i 
scrub. 

today, my father remembers a me 
that he liked better 
who wrote a book to advise her baby brother 
and tells me that i was sweeter back then. 
i agree. 

today, i ask my friend when a life is 
worth saving, when it means something 
to you? we are messes, flesh and bone and blood, 
but we choose each other, somehow, 
to be saved. 
to be killed. 
to be loved. 
she doesn't know the answer. 
i keep asking. 

today turns to tomorrow, 
a flip of an hourglass, 
and i sit here, writing, 
eyes aching from sleep 
and i hope that today will be better. 
that is all that is needed. 
each day to be better, softer, kinder, 
than the last 
and for each of us 
to make it so 
Read More
Posted: 05.23.22
May 21
poem
Geri

Doubting

One of my friends said the n-word yesterday. 
Or, at least, I think she did. 

It just flew out of her mouth. 
Like a baby bird, 
or a flyaway hair, 
pulled out of place. 

I sat so still. 
Too frozen, 
for anyone, 
to even notice me. 

Just another stray snowflake 
in a deluge of cold.

I wished her a happy Asian Pacific Islander Desi American Heritage Month, 
because maybe she didn’t say it. 

But maybe she did. 

 
Read More
Posted: 05.21.22
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