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Dec 06

Photographs

Oh, the ways that photographs lie.
A millisecond caught 
With frozen faces
And lying eyes.
A frame 
Of a faded memory
Yellow, old, and forever stuck
In a moment
Where you see
Everything but the truth.
The people it snapshots
Will always seem
Just Great!
Perfectly Okay!
Those people are quite 
Talented, in masking
Their monsters.
You know, the hungry
Terrifying beasts
That rage on and 
Nov 26
earleyg's picture

Life With Autism

The autistic mind is a very complex mechanism. Take it from me. I am on the autism spectrum. People with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) see, hear, sense, and process the world in completely different ways than neurotypical people. While I am not an expert on ASD, I am an expert at living with it. I am aware of it every day. People with ASD sense more things than people who don’t have ASD. Smells are heightened to another level, and certain noises irritate our sensitive hearing.
Nov 10

No Longer, Not Yet

Your fingers made ruptures on my heart,
As our feet moved not too fast,
And our minds thought not too slow.
Your hand swings by,
To say a little hi,
But I pull away.

No longer, not yet.

You’re a man on fire,
And I’m a girl of flames,
But I burnt holes into your metaphorical image,
And now you’re waiting,
For your opportunity to do the same.

No longer, not yet.
Nov 01
Nightheart's picture

Dyslexia

The letters 
drift off the page and
twist themselves into tiny 
balls of confusion, 
tripping over each other
and swirling into spirals. 
I squint in frustration at 
the page the book I’m 
trying to read. 
Nothing makes sense, 
the story doesn’t seem to
captivate me as much as they captivate
my classmates,
all staring at their books, 
mouthing the words to themselves
as they get lost in their 
Oct 16
poem 2 comments challenge: Color

Colors

What color would I lose?

I’d lose all colors

Why?

I would make no distinction between things

Everything would be the same color

I wouldn’t see just a bright color

In the midst of darkness

Everything would be one color

Apples and oranges, would have something similar

Pigment of your skin, would be equal

Everything, would be equal
Oct 11

Wind Wishes



I see 
wind turbines as a soaring bird,
a dove,
carrying green hope through the wind.

They simbolize a future.
A future where this expansive,
sun-washed, green valley
is "marred" 
only by these pearl wind-dancers.

Stained brown posts
and an infinite jumble 
of looping black electrical cord
entangle our homes,
yet the are nearly transparent
to our eyes.

Couldn't a distant white siloutet,
Oct 10
poem, audio 4 comments challenge: Fear
Fiona Ella's picture

old

Sep 20

Casual Racism With a Side of Language Based Angst

In an attempt to delete an audio recording that I wasn't satisfied with, I ended up deleting the post as whole thinking it meant deleting the changes I had made previously.  My bad.  This is just a repost, where nothing has changed from the original.  My apologies for causing any confusion.

I was sitting among tiny green blades of grass,
listening to a chaotic symphony
of loudspeakers
and bubbling voices.

I was sitting under a rosy sky

Sep 11

The Art of Fog Catching


I stood at the tip of the dock
looking out over
that salty water.

The fog had come slowly 
that morning,
seeping into the harbor
and quietly covering 
the shore. 

Mussle gathering at noontime 
was raw and wet.
The chilled water numbed my fingers 
until feeling 
no longer pulsed through them 
and blood flowed easily 
from popped blisters,
earned yestrday while chopping wood. 

Later,
Sep 06

apples

the trees in the orchard are more ripe with children
than they are with apples.
fragile branches expose themselves
to be limbs of limber youth,
elbows protruding like gnarls on a tree,
knees scarred like dimpled bark. 
if you aren't too careful
you'll end up snagging a ruby red sneaker
instead of a crisp macintosh. 
you may want to pick apples
but the children want to stand on the bow of a well-crafted ship
Audio download:
apples_0_0.m4a.mp3
Aug 27

Daydreaming

It's a
Intrinsic disease
They told me,
A unfortunate byproduct
Of a
Non-lucid mind.
A mind of someone
Who is discontent
With the real world.
Well,
If that's the case,
I don't mind
Being sick.
Because in a world
Scarred by dark roads,
Dark choices;
It's okay
To look up at the sun
And imagine
Happy little fantasies.
 
Aug 22
Maisie N's picture

Eclipsed

I spent most of today
Floating up in space
My head in the clouds
My heart in the air
I kissed a solar eclipse
Right on the lips
A secret that only us
And the stars could share
I spent most of tonight
Fighting back my tears
Because after a long day without caring
I'm left with my fears
And I just don't know
How I can live
With the weight of the world
Resting on my shoulders

Jul 26
Icarus Blackmore's picture

Rainbow

It's happening ever so slow,
Day after day,
They're chipping at our rights,
Wearing them away.

First they came for the protections,
The ones meant to keep up safe,
The one meant keep us from discrimination,
Their absence leaving a trail destruction and hate

They believe they can force us back,
Back into that ever so dark closet,
They believe they can hide the facts,
And we won't call them on it.
Jul 20

Blueberry Poem (for 7/19/17)

(The audio recording is of the last two stanzas which I recorded while picking blueberries. If you listen closely, you might be able to hear the pie tins and birds.)


Blueberry Poem

Follow the shade in the morning for as long as you can,
Hopping down the row, down the hill, from bush to bush.
The way the sunlight falls through the hedgerow and the trees above it
Leaves some shady splotches and then some sun-soaked bits.
Jul 20

seen in roanoke


today i saw three children
they were not much younger than i am
sixteen, or maybe seventeen years old
sleeping under an old concrete bridge

their shoes lay hapharzardly next to them
the soles of their tired feet grimy and bare
i thought of how hard, how unforgiving 
the stone must feel beneath their heads

then i walked
in clean shoes and socks
into an art musuem 
so sit leisurely and look at paintings
Jul 07

The Struggles of Growing Up White as a Chinese Adoptee

Jun 02

That Song Sounds Like Blueberries

Could you play that one song?
You know the one I’m talking about.
You know,
The one we blared from the car stereo,
With all the windows rolled down so all could hear.
The song we would play picking blueberries;
In that all natural,
Weed choked,
Berry farm.
I want to be reminded of the times
I would pick four flats to your two.
I want to remember the day
Where I traversed the fields,
To see where you were,
Apr 16
poem 0 comments challenge: Backpack
19bielmo's picture

Ode to the Weight On My Shoulders

Like Dora I rely on my pack, 
It has every little thing I lack. 
The fact I forgot during my test, 
Is in that book next to the rest. 

It bares the weight I carry on my shoulder, 
Gaining pounds with each year I get older. 
It holds my future by worksheet and note, 
Each calculation and essay I wrote.

I know this bag always has my back, 
It can decipher the codes I can not crack. 
If you seek this help, then be my guest,  
Apr 16

A Mother's Love

She loves like water
Beneath our feet
Above our heads
Coursing through our bodies.
Ever present.

(Photo credit: Bailey Tetrault, Essex Junction, VT)
Audio download:
A Mother's Love
Apr 16

What Are You Afraid Of?

 
00:00

My  seven year old sister and I were sitting by a tire swing outside my house. She started asking me bizarre questions and then asked me this one. I have decided to share our conversation on here because it made me think very deeply about life.