Category Archives: Poetry

Very rarely does this rhyme.
I mean who has the time-
Wait, what?

(but I love you)

This is not a love poem.

No this poem is not about

How pretty your

Eyes

Smile

Nose

Laugh

Are and how they make my

Heart

Soul

Head

Body

Ache when I think about them.

So if you were looking for the one

Where the girl gets up the courage

To tell you she loves you:

This poem is not for you.

You can find my other pieces

If that’s what you want to hear.

This is a poem for walking away.

Because I am

Tired

Exhausted

Frustrated

Done

With hurting with you.

Not hurting you,

Not being hurt by you.

Because being with you hurts.

Because I want

You

We

Us

Forever?

For now.

And that is the one thing

You can’t give me.

And I can’t take back

The things I gave you.

I can’t take back my

Stories

Laughter

Pain

Time

But you can keep those pieces

Because this is not a love poem.

This is a poem for healing.

This is not a door I am slamming,

But a window I need to open

Because I don’t want to go.

I want to keep

You

We

Us

Forever?

For now.

But I’m not what you need right now

And so I need to go.

No not Forever.

For now.

I need to leave so I can learn

How to be your

Sister

Confidant

Protector

So this isn’t another poem

About unrequited love.

This is not a poem

Where you’ll wake up

And I’ll be here and you’ll

Be Available

Be Willing

Be Ready

To try something new.

No this poem

Is not a love poem.

But I love you.

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Phoenix at First Sight

I never really believed
In love at first sight.
But, I truly admire those
Who can believe in nothing but.
Their passion is loud,
Roaring like a lion and burning
Like a phoenix beating its wings.
There’s this Australian comedian,
With too much hair and WAY too much eyeliner.
He wrote this song about love that
I think sums up my passion well.
There’s this line about love growing
Like a tumor, and spreading
And how he should have had it removed when
Their love was benign and it’s more true
Than I think I could phrase.
See I love slowly.
But, a snail’s paced love affair
Never writes as well as when
You see them and you know.
I mean don’t get me wrong
I’m a sucker for pretty eyes,
But that’s not love to me.
If it was, I’d throw my heart
At the feet of every
Blue eyed boy
Or red haired girl
Or shy smiled-
Look, you get it.
But then I met you.
And YOUR blue eyes
And YOUR not so shy smile.
And I realized what they meant when
They said You Had me at Hello.
And I burned like a phoenix
And I roared like a lioness.
And you-
I learned what it felt like
To be a firebird when it dies.
Their own flames consume them,
And they burst into ashes.
Then they are reborn
To begin, to love, again from
Their countless pieces.
But I heal like I love:
A snail in Phoenix feathers
With her shell made of ash
Inching towards being made anew.

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The Tin Man and Dorothy

It makes sense why the Scarecrow
Was the one Dorothy missed most of all.
After all, the lion was a monster of a thing,
And the Tin Man was a mess.
Well, you see, his heart was already breaking.
And you can’t squeeze a heart
Out of a tin can man.
Rain (and certianly not any kind of tears)
Had long ago rusted
Rivets that held the hatch
Over where his heart should go.
The nails she bit off weren’t sharp enough
The fingers that shook weren’t thin enough
The smile she found behind the curtian wasn’t bright enough
To pry his chest back open.
To put the cogwork heart back inside.

Her fleshy heart was
Patchwork to start with.
She never much missed it until
It relfected in the blue-
Silver
Of his eyes-
Skin.
And then for the first time in
Witches only know how long,
She heard a single tick.
And she dreamed that He did too.

But the wizard’s gifts were some assembly required.
Her pile of felt squares and multi-colored thread
Weren’t so important to her now.
A clock was delicate. A clock needed
Four hands even though it only
Had two.
Only when she dreamed, she sewed
Together the pieces of felt
Into Feeling.

Alice had it fucking easy.
After all, her hatter was mad for her.
Dorothy was left with a pile
Of tattered rainbow felt
In Kansas, barren as
What was left of an unticking heart.

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The Powerful Play Abruptly Ended

The words of Whitman

Never sounded quite as sweet

As when they fell from the lips

Of a Lost Boy who forgot

That he promised to never grow up.

Second start to the right,

Oh Captain my Captain,

And straight on ’till morning.

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One Track History

I wouldn’t say that there’s a whole lot
That I firmly believe in really.
Unless we’re talking the laws of physics,
Or my absolute love for my mom’s cooking.
I mean, fate?
Really?
Who has time for that.
But in all the train cars,
On all the lines,
In the whole damn city,
And I had to walk in to yours?
Shit.

For a moment, I remembered
What it was like to be fifteen and
In need of saving.
When you asked me if I wrote,
And we wrote a story that told us
We could be weird if we were weird
Together.
And how three years later,
You told me to go be weird
Alone.

But the best part of that ride,
Those 30 minuets and promise to
“Totally get coffee,”
Was a reminder that when everything changes,
Not everything has to change.
College, forclosure, my sister’s wedding
Which sorry, you didn’t make the list,
And we’re still talking about your latest
Internet boyfriend and haunted houses.
You’re still wearing the same pink eye shadow,
That I probably helped you pick out once,
And I’m still dying my hair,
Like the time you did mine.

A lot of closure can happen in
A half hour ride as a captive
On a train car.
And no, we won’t get that coffee.
And maybe you’ll never see
This or the other dozen or so rants
About or against you and my youth
In a box in my closet.
But it was nice to see you,
And the fact that we kept being weird
Apart.

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Haikus brought you you by the slow running CTA

If you ever want

To feel small as a child,

Put on Father’s shoes.

 

Church on Every block,

With the slum lord just next door.

Big city living.

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Accidental Brilliance

This was a cento poem that was a product of a creative writing class. We all had to write like six line poems, and then take a line from each one and construct a totally new poem. Kind of a cool idea really. But, this one was what I came up with. It’s actually really hard to tell that this was like…sixteen-ish different poets.

What I can tell you is how I felt

From the outside looking in.

Not a leap of faith,

Wind against my face and

Gradd soon fades, the greens blur and

Glow in the dark.

The stars have begun to move in and out,

Hot humid air fills my lungs;

To create destruction is to protect our freedom.

Time running out-

Stop.

This is where I can soar, edging near the cliff, fingers flying,

And I realize that part of me can never leave.

So cheer up and in the end everything will be just fine.

I walk with Kings through mountains.

She fills it with gossamer

In the palace of the stars.

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