Held close to my chest is my darling With eyes of robin eggs and limbs of soil Smelling of pine and tiny daisies When I hear them coming, I run I scramble, slip on air Still holding the one that is mine They track me. They are everywhere. And my darling Grows And tells some other story One of crabapples and smoke I sprint, breaking But my darling expands And it burns my hands now And its eyes shatter With no baby birds inside No, no, no Stay pure forever They catch us And take my darling And I sit on the nothing, empty but open.
Poem
The Quilt
The quilt is sewn in intricate patterns and designs with flowers and prickly pine trees The quilt is hard on the outside but soft inside The quilt has stories to tell and questions to ask And yet it stays silent
How Could You?
How could you leave it behind in the dust and you say it to be your fate How could you leave it to wilt there like a flower without the sun You promised to come back to it you have not It is lonely now without an owner like a stray dog Isn’t it creeping back into your mind? Shouldn’t it?
Weight on My Shoulders
My school bag weighs more than my body Weighs more than a sycamore tree Weighs more than a forest of sycamore trees complete with flowers and leaves My shoulders have aches pains and blisters My back is hunched to the floor For I carry a train with whistles and grain A freight train of iron and ore. My school bag is filled with a sand dune A sand dune as wide as a beach If the beach had a chair with a bear sitting there holding a pear and a peach. My ribs can no longer support me My knees are throbbing with ache My ribs and my knees and ankles beg please I don’t know how much more I can take I’ve sat and I’ve thought and I’ve pondered I’ve wondered and worried my core I’ve decided my health’s more important So I won’t go to school anymore.
Back to School List
I will not go to school unless I have the following: (Some I need to buy brand new, the rest I don’t mind borrowing) A backpack (new) and a mobile phone (new) a generous spray of men’s cologne (borrowing) A bottle of gel for my perfect hair (borrowing) A fresh new pair of underwear (definitely not borrowing) A pair of kicks (new) for my soccer tricks, red and black for flair (they help me score midair) A soccer jersey with my name (new) No one else will have the same That’s all I really need from you— What? Okay, fine . . . some pencils too.
Autumn
Autumn is colorful, like the bright rainbow after a rainy day, the tall oak trees, each with a different shade. Autumn is flavorful, like the warm pumpkin seeds fresh out of the oven, the sweet crisp apples with gooey gold honey descending slowly down. Autumn is joy, like sprinting around the towering oak trees, showered by the crunchy, colorful leaves, the glowing sun slowly peeking through the trees, playing hide-and-seek with the clouds.
My Universe
In my universe I’m at school with my friends laughing but you’re all alone with nothing but your almost finished ice cream. Over the bush through the window above the clouds, there I am. Past the birds tweeting in the distance. We are opposites but yet the same. You are lonely and I am happy. We are humans but in a different life.
The Paper
Black leaking out of the pen Elegant lines of different shapes Ink soaking into the paper Black slowly consuming the page You have forgotten the world Silence creeping up The leftovers from a storm dripping on your windowsill Lights flickering Tick tock from the grandfather clock Look up.
Thunderstorm
Standing in the pouring Cold rain BANG BANG, The clouds let their fury out on me Will it ever end My breath turned into a cloud of whiteness My nose stinging with every wave of lightning A thunderstorm is anger, sadness, and a chilling breeze Will it ever end All the animals are safe in their homes But I am here Lights flashing Voices echoing in my head Whistles all around have I gone mad Will it ever end BANG BANG Then silence like I have never heard before The voices have ended The whistles have stopped But still will it ever end
Untitled
I want to see the stars. Untainted by city lights. Unobscured by cloudy nights. From my porch, they seem as dim as distant flashlights, but I know they are so bright. Take me to a field. A field with blossoming wildflowers and morning dew on the grass. I’ll bring a blanket if you bring cookies and a jar of milk. I promise as we look toward the heavens, it will feel like we’re laying on a bed of silk. Because there’s a fullness that only comes from immersing yourself in creation and recognizing the craftsmanship of the creator. Pause. Breathe in, and out. Eight billion people live in the world. And we all can be guilty of forgetting that it’s not mortal trees that give us the air we breathe. A thousand poems tell the tales of love and loss. And I could write a thousand more, but this one is for . . . The one who breathed into my lungs and hung the stars in my sky.
If You Find a Mirror
Look inside yourself take your vision of the world and turn it upside down break the glass to find your truth then stitch it up again consider every secret that might be hidden in its depths until you realize it’s only a reflection of what you already know it only holds fragments of what it’s like out here
yellow
i close my eyes & tangle my fingers in threads of sunlight. i braid strands. kiss them on their foreheads. they taste like the lustrous cream pastries nana used to bake. i crisscross them over the ceiling. skinny strings of gold. i revel in my talent. when i was little, nana nestled me in the crook of her leathery arm & carried me to meet the sun. he patted my cheek but my skin did not burn. i was a miracle. darkness seeps into my periphery. my eyes open.
