the ocean a stand in for a thousand things I want to say to you
the sea a million twinkling metaphors
Continue reading “Aqua”A Free Verse Poem
the ocean a stand in for a thousand things I want to say to you
the sea a million twinkling metaphors
Continue reading “Aqua”the blades of grass
If I were
the wind whipping through your hair
on late night drives with the windows down
after the rain just stopped,
leaving the road shiny and slick with wetness
and the smell of damp asphalt still permeating the air,
would you then believe
Continue reading “If I Were”perhaps it is the way that life itself seems to disappear
I am a summertime poet;
I cannot wax lyrical about the bare branches
or frosty earth.
Perhaps it is the fact that the blood,
so warm as it rushes through my core
turns oh so frigid by the time it reaches my fingertips.
Continue reading “L’Hiver de la tristesse”The apartment is too humid
to grow most plants
anyway.
The aloe plant sits upon the counter,
its once plump, vibrantly green leaves
full of healing salve
now turned brown and flat
and crispy.
It’s not our fault that it died.
The cats ate the new growths
from the top
until they stopped growing.
We tried special water
thinking that the tap
may be causing these plant problems.
For months, the plants drank better
than us
or the dog
or the cats,
but to no avail.
The apartment is too humid
to grow most plants
anyway.
The dehumidifier does not
do much good.
The aloe plant still turned lifeless
and crunchy.
We tried everything.
So, now,
we’ll just stick
to the few plants
we already have–
the ones that beat the odds.
At this point,
we can’t handle
another disappointment.
Photo by Tara Winstead from Pexels
With today being the finale of National Poetry Month, I decided to put up another poem on this site. If you want to see a lot of the other poetry that I have been posting, you can check my Instagram (or you can just wait until my final round up post tomorrow). Most of the poems from this month have been super short, which is why they are found on Instagram rather than on here. I have a lot of feelings about how this month has gone, and I will write them out and post them on this blog some time during May. They deserve their own dedicated space.
A crimson carnation has its stem
threaded through the button
hole of a black jacket.
Hi guys!
We’re nearing the end of National Poetry Month, and I don’t know how I feel about that. To be fair, February and March were actually my crazy busy writing months because I wanted to have as much as possible prepared. Still, the act of finalizing pieces and posting them has been incredibly fulfilling, even if it has taken up a large portion of my not-so-abundant spare time in April so far.
Here are my posts from the past week:
Daisy Chains, Or Lackadaisicality (on this blog)
L’Hiver de la tristesse (on this blog)
This–
As the sky becomes drenched with streaks of apricot and pale plum.
Hi all!
Here are all of the poems that I have posted on all my platforms over the past week.
The Way I Talk (no longer on this blog)
Every Poet Writes About Skies of Marmalade (on this blog)
On beauty and banality
Every poet seems to write on skies of marmalade,
about waters of azure and the texture of suede,
but I so rarely see these things in my day-to-day.
—
My life consists of grit and grime
of cheap laminate floors and of vinyl countertops.
Of cracked laptop screens
And weather-worn shoes—
An aesthetic with lightbulbs burnt out
and muddy puddles and unfolded laundry,
pots of dirt that once held plants,
cacti that just refuse to die,
windowless rooms,
bruises on skin that has not been licked by the sun in far too long.
There’s paint stains on the dining room table.
There’s patina on the silverware.
There’s faulty memories and mismatched meter and tongues that confuse themselves
and meanings that should never be spoken aloud.
Wounded egos.
Filth.
Muck.
Phlegm.
Imperfect families.
Half smiles.
Accidental laughter at problematic jokes.
Heads brimming full
of ideas that will never come to fruition,
poetic lines completely unnecessary to the meaning,
and chipped teeth repaired temporarily decades ago.
—
But there’s a beauty in banality, a hope in the mundane,
an elegance in all the things that we hold in disdain,
so excuse me if I speak of the ugly in a gilded frame.
Photo by Abdullah Ghatasheh from Pexels
What do I contain inside me?
Hi everyone!
The first full week of National Poetry Month is coming to a close, and, just like on Sunday of last week, I wanted to collect everything I posted from the past week in a single place. So here it all is! Enjoy!
Rewriting, Rewriting (on this blog)
Alone, I hear the wind whoosh past my ears–
a message from my surroundings.
Happy Easter, everyone!
I’m using this post as a way to share everything that I have written so far for NaPoWriMo as well as to specifically share my Easter poem, which first went up on my Instagram.
Raindrops on the Windshield (on this blog)
I hope you guys are all having a great April so far, and I will have a poem up tomorrow here on this blog!
Peace out!
Joy