Here is a list poem I wrote in honor of all the things I’m grateful for this Holiday season. What are some things on your “I’m Grateful for..” List?
Out to Eat with Me
Can I please have a glass of wooder?
Water, okay, so what’s your order?
I would like some eggs with a side of scrabble.
Sorry, did you babble?
Think I need a minute, just the wooder.
Wash against the occupants.
Aquarius has no more reigns.
Terra crumples.
Each droplet of smog poisons the blue greenery creation
Rest, Rivers. Please Rest.
W.A.T.E.R.
I had a poetry reading at my local coffee shop where I got to debut this short little poems. Please enjoy! More to come.
Also, it’s Giving Tuesday! Check out F*ck University’s IndieGoGo Campaign! https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/fuck-university-today-s-sex-education–2#/
Welcome back! It’s been a long minute since I last posted, but I’m back. The other day, I did a spoken word poetry reading. The moderator assigned us to explore a color. My Libra self couldn’t pick just one color, so here goes my poem. Thank you in advance for reading.
Red
A good ol’ fave
Crimson lips and passion painted fingertips
The color of your cheeks when love touches your lips.
Red.
Aggression.
Expression.
The heat in the kitchen, It’ll burn if you let it.
Red
Dad asked, “What color do you want your first car to be?”
“Red,” I said.
“Okay, so blue.”
Blue
Everyone associates you with the blue.
“It’s in the eyes, Chico.”
Blessed pools from the ocean.
Blue
Empathy.
Serenity.
Emotions worn on your sleeve,
that’s how one could describe me.
Please take care, they say.
Blue.
He called me his Red Devil, but never wanted me as his Blue Angel.
The fire inside sits atop the sea,
burning to a shore
I have yet to explore.
All this Red verses Blue will make you purple.
It is time to mellow.
Consider yourself yellow.
Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, learning to forget her scars.
Her right eye has a little scratch in the deep retina.
It’s from rubbing too rough.
So, she was born into this world with scars. A Good thing this, she is a fighter.
Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, learning to forget her scars.
Recess on the playground. Well, the playground was a parking lot. Kids were born to stay in one place playing along with each other. Forming a circle.
The girl peered on desperately dreaming of one day playing along in the circle. Little did she know.
Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, learning to forget her scars.
Now the girl enters her teens. She has all the requirements for a blossom. She digs scratches not her skin. Creating scars.
Girl studies the lines imbedded in her palms. Why can she not understand their patters?
The girl stands in the center of the circle. Once children, now teens surround her, dancing in chains. They point their pointers and giggle. The giggles send sinister vibrations into the girl’s scars and lines.
One member of the circle sa-shes in closer, her demons hum “If you fall, I will catch you. No matter what.”
Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, learning to forget her scars.
Through the gaga promenade, sun radiates. The gate, where the girl once stood looking into this very spot, collapses.
A voice orates me to get out. Nerves keep the girl still from the call.
Then, she takes a fall.
No one caught her.
Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, learning to forget her scars.
Cracks in the ground provide support to the teary teen.
The dancers through rocks and kick her tummy. Scars run deeper into the skin.
Sun sets. Moon shines a motherly light onto her.
All the scars will fade in the light, mother moon promises. It is time to rise with the sin.
While the circle rests, the girl tiptoes passing all the whirlwind.She understands the wheel of fortune and the change.
At the fallen gate, the girl takes a one last look back then runs.
Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, who learned to heal her scars. The girl become a divine woman.
