Holding Hands

There is something
So beautiful
In
Interlocking fingers.

I want to
Hold your hand forever,
As the world
Goes rushing by us.

Three Little Unspoken Words

Blue eyes stare into brown ones,
Gentle smiles break over faces,
The music starts, the screen cuts to black.

Behind closed doors
A hand caresses an ear through long hair.
And they’re dancing among the stars.

Nothing is said,
Nothing needs to be said.

Three little words
hang heavy in the air.

It’s on their lips,
in their eyes,
twinkling in her hair.

Eyes meet
And at that moment
She knows
And he knows.

Writing is About Feeling

Every time I put pen to paper
I open up another vein
and bleed my life's blood
onto the page.

I can't write about you.
I can't write
without opening up the scars.
The scars you put there.
Those ones I want to
believe are healed over.

Writing is about digging deeep
for that pain,
for that happiness.

Writing is about feeling.
And I don't want to feel you there
anymore.

I'd Rather Be Me

Baby, I can be whatever you want me to be
but just this once
I'd like to be me.

I can love the rain
and the smell in the air when
the leaves begin to fall.

I can be interested in anime
and be your own personal editor
of your latest manuscript.

I can go to all of your games
and root you on
in your path to greatness.

But just this once I would like to be me.

Jut this once I would like someone to
push me to be my best
to help me achieve my dreams
to cheer me on
to show me things about myself that I didn't know.

So baby, I can be whatever you want me to be
but I'd rather be me.

Can you handle that?

Not the One

When you held me
And said I was the one
I guess you didn’t mean the same thing I did.
When I said it to you
I don’t think you knew what you were getting.

I am
Wild
Passionate
Kind
Fun
Life-loving

I wanted
To travel
To see the world
To teach
To love my students
To perform
To share this with someone
To have children
And a home.

I compromised
All of this for you
But it just wasn’t enough
To keep you.

Well good riddance then.

I don’t want me either
If I have to be the girl I was
After all the compromising was done.

I want to be me.
I want the world.
I want life.
I want to take it all in
And drink it all up.
I want to experience it all
With everything I have.

I hope you find what you are looking for
Because I am obviously not it.

Since You've Been Gone

Since you’ve been gone
I have hurt more than I thought possible.
I have cried,
I have laughed,
And I have had more fun
Than I have had in a long time.

I used to have
This love for life.
I used to be
wild
And free
And silly
And fun.

I don’t know when I chose to throw that away
For you
But I did.

But since you’ve been gone
I have realized
I want it all back.

And there is nothing stopping me anymore.

Born to be Wild

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Fool Me Once Shame on You, Fool Me Twice Shame on Me

Trusting you is such a bad idea.
Trusting myself when I am around you is an even worse idea.
So where do we go from here?

Where can we go,
where can we not hurt each other just by being close?
where is there enough space for us
to not drown in the heady waters
of our feelings?

Being Something

You must wonder why I am relentless and all strung out.
I am consumed by the thrill of being something, I never thought I could be.
There is a push, a shove
That keeps you going up the hill
Even as it seems to just keep getting bigger.
I remind myself that it only appears that way.
The closer I get to being there
The further away everything—seems—to be.
I look back and my old life, shimmers like a far of distant memory.
I look ahead and the future draws me in like a smudged line on an old charcoal drawing;
Not quite there but not quite gone.

Revised This is me

I just got out of my night class where we workshopped this poem. I decided to use some of the suggestions. I think I like the revision better. Thoughts?

Do you wish to know me?
I am
Dancing, White trash,
A silver ring with an oval jade stone.

I am
Pride, Hometown pride.
A large bridge that touches the sky,
Trees, Blueberry fields.

I am
Running,
Wild under the summer sun.
Riding in the car,
Windows rolled down,
Music blaring,
Singing.

I am Stubborn.
I am Water, Beaches, And Deer,
And Frogs that sing you to sleep.
I am all of these things and more.
It’s nice to meet you.

This is me

Do you wish to know me?
I am…
Dancing,
White trash,
A silver ring with an oval jade stone.
I am …
Pride,
Hometown pride.
I am…
A large bridge that touches the sky,
Trees,
Blueberry fields.
I am …
Running wild under the summer sun.
I am riding in the car,
Car windows rolled down,
Music blaring,
Singing.
I am Stubborn.
I am Water,
I am Beaches
And Deer
And Frogs that sing you to sleep.
I am all of these things and more.
It’s nice to meet you.

One Sunday Afternoon

One Sunday Afternoon…
In a place far, far away 2 people dreamt of
All those evil doors
Those mean doors
They throw splinters
And hiding behind them
There’s the boogeyman
Quick!
Grab the tissues
Fight, Fight
With all our might
Oh look I rhymed!
And so the poet asks
How do you know that Panda is from Asia?
Wait, rewind!
Blonde moment
Back to the doors
Those evil doors
The chair, the chair!
Move the chair
The magical expanding chair
Don’t let it touch the door
The door is evil
Sit, sit in the chair
The magic chair
What was that?
You wish to fly?
The power of flight
Granted by the magic of a kiss
And so we’re off
Where to you ask?
Off to make believe land
That magic place
Where there are no doors
Only flying chairs
Flying chairs and wishes
Wishes upon wishes
Wishes of Strawberry Cheese Cake
And magical kisses
Make believe land is a special place
A place where one boy and one girl
Can run away together
And the place where this poet went to write this poem.

Writing

Sometimes I wonder do I write because I like to,
Or because I have to?
Is it an uncontrollable urge that these words are just pulled out of me,
Or do I really get some kind of twisted enjoyment out of scrabbling around inside my head
Seeking a single word to make the sentence perfect
Carefully crafting and sculpting
Subtle images to draw a reader in
And silently expressing those things I can’t say out loud
Because I can’t speak
The words
They escape my tongue
And yet somehow they are captured by my pen
Its not easy
A singular word can
Make all the difference
Sometimes I have these thoughts
These feelings
These ideals
They swim around in my head as if in a kind of fog
And for some reason when I set my pen to the paper
The fog lifts a bit
But I don’t always write what I find beneath the fog
How can I?
A person can express themselves in words,
Yet why is it that sometimes I’m afraid of what my words mean?
I write them without knowing what they mean
Then I read them
And find they all say the same thing
They are my call for help
They are my silent screams
My endless wails for freedom
For escape from a life of fear
Fear of happiness
Fear of loss
Fear of the unknown
Fear of losing control over my life
Fear of giving up
And fear of fear
And not just that normal feeling of fear
But that fear where you know you are scared and you try to run away
To escape
But only manage to realize you’re more afraid than before
You were afraid
You didn’t take that risk that could have made all the difference
And you’re slowly losing control of your life

You’re drowning
You’re slipping
You scream
You cry out
But you have no voice
Its silenced by the fear in your throat
And you now know it’s over
You let the fear catch you
You did the safe thing
The comfortable thing
And you have lost it all and you know
Its over
Done
All your dreams are finished
You can never dream them again because you were afraid
Your attempt to escape fear has set your destiny in stone
Stone
that’s what fear really is
Its inevitable
I know it
I write for escape
For relief
For help
Why can’t anyone in this world stop the fear?
Please someone save me!!

To My Little Brother on His Birthday

To My Little Brother, Nick, on His 18th Birthday,
Congrats, you have finally made it.
You are now considered a legal adult by the state.
How does it feel?
I know for me being 18 was scary.
It was a marker that things were about to change,
For forever and for always.
No matter what happens next
It will be an adventure.
As you try to figure out
What you want from life
And who you really want to be.
Just remember that when things get tough
You have family to help you.
Remember that I will always be your sister
And when you need me, you can call me.
Remember that I love you,
That we all love you.
Remember that you are smart,
Funny,
Strong,
And capable.
Remember that you are ready for this stage of your life.

The Scars of a Poet

“Even the scars of my decisions”
--Adrienne Rich

As a poet
I know the poetry of fate,
Of life
Revealing itself
Through
Luck, fate, decisions made.
Rich was right.
Decisions leave a scar,
An imprint on our souls
That we carry with us forever.
My scars shall haunt me till my final days here on Earth
And then they will follow me to my grave.
They mark every step I take
And mar every aspect of my essence.

My scars,
I carry with me.
Scars of battles fought
Won and lost.
Scars of pain inflicted
Pain they inflict and pain that is self-inflicted.
Scars of love,
Scars of hate,
Scars I will never forget
And some I beg God I could forget.

Can you see my scars?
I feel them.
The eyes of those around me
Peering at my scars
Judging them,
Judging me.

Power of Song

My feet are tapping,
My head is bobbing,
My hips are swaying.
The beat moves me.
It frees me.
Body
And
Soul.
The drums create the rhythm
Dada boom dada boom dada boom…
The guitar creates the melody
Doodoo do doodoo do doodoo
And it isn’t long before I am singing along.

The power of a song
Isn’t in the drums,
The guitar,
The base
Or the lyrics.
The power comes from
The song’s ability to move you
Mind,
Body,
And Soul.

My Voice

Stand up
And be Recognized.
Listen here.
I am a voice.
One voice,
In a multitude of voices. I,
I speak for me.
My beliefs,
My opinions,
My ideas,
My personal truths.

This is my voice
And I will be heard.

My Magic Carpet Ride

Today I went on a magic carpet ride.
I went to Florida.
My carpet and I rose up high in the sky,
We twisted, spiraled and dived in the night
The air was warm and hugged me close as it whipped on by
The moon hung over head
And the stars twinkled,
Like a secret caught in two lovers eyes.
For hours upon hours
I sailed overhead on my magic carpet,
A smile gently caressing my features.
As the moon began to sink,
And the sun started to brighten the horizon,
I knew it was time to return home.
With a light heart and happy memories I was homeward bound.
But soon the sky became dark.
Storm clouds rolled in like a stampede of angry wild horses.
Beautiful and frightening all at once.
And then it rained.
The rain fell in torrents
It beat down like a raging flood
It soaked right through my magic carpet
And then my carpet died.
As I was hovering in the air, the rain killed my magic carpet
And sent me spiraling towards the ground.
Falling,
Falling I was,
Forever down
Towards the ground
Where certain death awaited me.
It was then that my winged chair rescued me
It scooped me up out of the sky
And placed me gently on the ground,
Just before it saw
What was left of my magic carpet.
Falling from the sky,
The wind whipping its strings and tearing it to shreds
It crashed into the muddy ground and lay there still,
Very still.
Dead.
My chair saw what had become of my magic carpet,
And died right then and there
Of a broken heart.
Then the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started.
The sky was now bleak and gray.
Like the fog in a lovers eyes after the secret is long gone,
And all that’s left is broken.
Now what remains of my carpet is strings
and my chair sits in the back of my closet,
Broken
Forgotten,
And alone.

His

His
rough, callous hands stroked my hand and fingers
Slowly, softly,
Sending shivers up my spine.

His
full, soft lips touched mine
Making me see fireworks. Teaching me
What it feels like to be in love.

His
Bright smile and larger than life laugh
Made me want to be silly,
To make him smile and laugh forever.

"But more than these things,
I miss who I was when I was with them."

He
Excited me.
He was mysterious, dangerous.
My stomach was butterflies, my knees weak.
I was a rebel. I was the secret keeper.



He
Made me feel confident, sexy, strong.
Reassured.
I could do anything. Be anything.
I would be a poet, an author.

He
Made me feel silly, light, free. Like
Running through the woods at night,
Barefoot, while the moon hung low overhead
And I felt no fear.

"Love,
No matter how we love
Changes us forever."

Far, Far Away

I remember those early mornings
Waiting for the bus.
The morning was cold
And quiet.
I would look down the road one way
And then the other
And imagine all the places that road could take me.

When the bus finally arrived
I would walk across the street,
Climb into the bus
And watch as the bus would drive past my house.
I would stare and try to take it in.
I’d imagine this bus was taking me away
That this was it.
That my life had started and I was finally leaving
For good.


I'm not very happy with this poem so any suggestions on how to improve it would be great!