Here are some of my longer works, which are still not really that long. Enjoy.
Home
WANDERING
It's cold and our lives will change after today. The winds have turned and blow us toward a new perspective. Road blocks and blindness confuse the thought train. Ride it out to the open plain. Tumultuous sky overhead and the face of God watches me. Move. Around in circles while wagon wheels and sprinklers are turned on to these nightcrawlers, out in their destruction.
We are sitting in life and there are so many paths. Which one shall I choose? For me? Importance and death and love... we are all trapped here.
Barefoot to the grate. Hands to the sky of red cloud and shade. Life like a circle we are sitting in. Spin, world, within your circle. Keep me in tune.
Shadows dance across the curve and tell me to die tomorrow. Death will not be tomorrow, but many years from now when I have done all too much damage here on Earth. Trip.
BROKEN
An evening too cool to not wear a sweater and the smoke rising from the ashtray curls around the end of my pen, urging me to write. An art unforgotten in my mind, but forgotten by my hand. Indifference celebrated the breaking of the block and motivation once again was hidden beneath bed sheets. Comfortable bed sheets though. They made it alright, this loss of a craft. The question remains: can it be brought back? If you kill a robin will you see it fly again? That is absurd, but this... this seems like a tangible thing.
Certainly the memories will creep back and again wash out the mind with their morose and bitter remembrances. Not to say that it's all like that, but human nature causes us to reflect more heavily upon the things that trouble us. Or once troubled us.
My sadness and pain are the cause of much praise and adoration from my audience of few. Perhaps soon I will draw new and even more saccharine exclamations from them. It will both feel good and fall short... of what, I am not sure.
Such cycles. Such patterns. Such feelings.
But tonight makes me smile because I have this back. I have another period of time to let go.
LISA
Two girls. Twooooooooo girls. Twenty fingers, two noses, four eyes, four ears, two bellybuttons. Some said hello and I said, "high." Rock. The Sound and the Fury. And we sang about revolution and confusion. Gotcha. Bisque? Beige? I don't know the color. Blue thermal shirt. Rhinestoned. That's what you're wearing, fool. Future English teacher of America. To teach the whole USA English. Chilling with my lemonade and its twisty straw. Yeah, me too. Orange highlighters and white sand, hot underfoot. Raindrops like acid trips, color puddle boots. Pink polish chips off fingernails. Pizza and chicken wing dinner forever.
GONE AGAIN
She is so young and so beautiful. So childishly innocent and vulnerable. She brightens the room with her smile and her laugh is contagious- so much so that anyone anyone around will chuckle at its hearty ring.
She is the one I love most in the world. She is the one I would give my life to protect. Being away from her sweet voice hurts more with each day that goes by. I have to wonder what she is wearing and what her mood is like. Is she happy? Or is she sad because I left her? Her best friend left her behind...
When I see her again I will hold her and tell her how much I love her and I will try to make her understand why I must leave her again.
COLLEGE
At home, my bed isn't even a bed. At home, the neighbors constantly wake me up too early. At home, the house is quietly in disarray, although probably not at the moment with the absence of my brother and me. I would like awake in my pseudo-bed, dog asleep at my side. I would think about the day, about work, family, friends, the party I would attend that night.
Here, my bed is a bed and an uncomfortable one at that. The stupid, drunk kids wake me up too early. Here, at college, everything is in disarray, but not so quietly. Dishes to be washed, laundry to be done, and a desk full of work left untouched. I lie awake thinking about making grades- and not even to please myself because everything I do is for my family. I think about the friends I said goodbye to, the family that is anxiously awaiting my return, the dog who is sleeping in my empty "bed", and the man I'm quite certain I could fall in love with one day. The party scene is very much the same.
So much is similar, but also completely different. Admittedly, the view out the window here is better, but so is the view in the window. I noticed that one night while walking "home." I climbed the stairs, unlocked the door, and closed the fucking blinds.
College is weird.
THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU
They said to give it up, but I didn't. I couldn't. Not when there was still a chance. And thank God (if there is a God) for my persistence because that chance turned out beautifully. You're beautiful and you're mine. Please don't make me fall in love with you... although, I'm already well on my way, but it's not your fault. It's my foolish, girlish heart- always trapped by fantasy. You, my near stranger of a lover, make me feel something unusual, uncommon. I can only hope that you, or that you will someday, feel it too.
Many nights have I spent in your bed, in your arms, watching your chest rise and fall with the sweet, slow rhythm of sleep. To know that I will wake up to your sweet smile is better than anything I could have ever asked for. The last thing I see at night and the first thing I see in the morning. You're my fantasy.
About the Writer
My Poetry
