Today, May 3rd, is National Lemonade Day. Besides sipping on the ice cold, sweet, and tangy beverage, what better way to honor the day than with a poem? Fresh out of National Poetry Writing Month, my mind and pencil still feel invested in poetry. So, here is a poem about lemons and lemonade and all … Continue reading Lemons: A Poem (National Lemonade Day)
9:58amHeads bobHips swaySneakers are inFor another hard day. 10:14amEntering,A sea of cellsYou try not toBump against,And ignore the onesWho do it to you.10:27am"So what's on your mind?"Asks no one's voice,Except the one residingBehind your forehead.10:30amYou can think of a million and twenty-sixThings.10:38amAre the galaxiesReally expandingEach dayHow wideCan they become?And how many astronautsAre just floating out … Continue reading National Poetry Writing Month: Day 29 – Waiting
What ifLoveCame withLabelsLike the onesSlapped onSoup cans,Warnings beforeOur eyes playedTricks.
Rubied polygonsAutumn's dust sprinkles downwardCrinkled by footprints.
The sun hoveredAbove the pine treesThat sent conesTumbling down the hillAnd into the street.Rolling, like bright coloredKickballs.Those who excelledBeneath scoreboardsClaimed the field,The rest of us clingingTo slides.I liked recess then,But the freedom the thirty minutes broughtMakes some minds believeThey can always doWhat they want.
They sayTo let yourImaginationRun wild.Wild likeFlowers.You envisionThe contrasts,Paints and Puddles of theWorld,In the filterYou wished toGlance through.Maybe you didn'tKnow yourself.They sayTo let yourImaginationRun wild.Wild likeEgyptian sunsets.The fog thatSwims and swirlsLike deceptionIn your mouthIlluminates inGray.Maybe you didn'tKnow yourself.They sayTo let yourImaginationRun wild.Wild likeBlackberries.The fog thatSwings and swaysLike truthIn my mouthIlluminates inEverything.Sun raysSend pastel polishInto the fogLike … Continue reading National Poetry Writing Month: Day 24 – Fog
HeartbeatUncaged,It flew intoMy ear.Like a songSpiralingIn my mindAnd I walkIn its memorizedTempo.Untamed,Smoothing over thePink in my brain,Leaving a mark.Like a footprint.A footprintUnique to itsKeeper,But I wish I was the firstTo experience it.
I wonderWhat part of your mindI grow in,Whether in mounds of weedsOr well-watered gardens.I want to be your rose,Lingering like aVintage blossomTucked in the corner ofMapsFolded, creasedUsed, reusedAlways returned to,As you seemed to beSomewhereYet going nowhereMaking people thinkYou were well-traveled.I wonderWhat part of your heartI grow in,Whether in mounds of winter shrubsOr well-watered summer flowers.
I want toPack the nightBeneath my fingernailsLike sand,So when I bite themI can taste theNavy hours,Feeling textured memoriesAgainst my tongue.It's nights like theseI never want toEnd.Dripping away asSunrises like coral reefsManifest and unfold.
The glassFramed your faceLike a polaroidPinned to my mindAnd through hours ofAwake and sleepIt never slipped away. Handprints stampedThe window paneAs proof to myEyes and mouthThat you once existedAnd disappeared likeMorning frost. Distant hand wavesSwoopIn front of our faces,But my mindMight as well haveImagined themBecause I could neverBe so lucky. We are as far awayAs … Continue reading National Poetry Writing Month: Day 20 – Space