Category: Poetry

If that day ever arrives, I will not thank you, even if you beg. You will not be able to use my name. That will be for sure. That will be for sure. One year of learning turned into twenty-five years of payback. And no, I have not seen a better life. I have not

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If I snap my fingers, will all my mistakes be undone? Will all the years I have kicked myself for doing this and doing that be erased? No, I don’t think so. No, it’s not possible. No, it can’t be done. This isn’t a pop in a VHS tape and rewind as far you I

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I stand before you not as a friend or enemy. You once regarded me worthy to hold your hand, as you puked alongside the toilet after a night’s drinking. Who do you think got rid of the foul smell? It was I who pulled the yellow gloves up my scrawny arms. The material scratching my

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You affect something within me, not in a twisted way. One could describe it as the kind of wonder, wanting more. I could fly as the mythical phoenix restoring its power. The voice transporting me into a new wonderful. I will swim in the warm waters and take comfort in the sand. Do not come

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A Crooked Mouth Pearly whites appear, Mouth upturned at the corners, The smile wide again. A Winter Hibernation Gather hairs and rocks, Stuff them into hibernation. Close eyes to the light. The Lotus Disappears Sacred roots deep down, Deliciously edible, Nighttime disappears. The Sight of a Rainbow Scent of the freshness – Red, orange, yellow,

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Fill the jar with red cinnamon bears. Eat them until your mouth burns. Fill the jar with black sunflower seeds. Suck the salt before you crack the shells. Fill the jar with green jellybeans. Eat them until your stomach hurts. Fill the jar with tinfoil wrapped chocolates. Peel each one as you bite it with

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This is called for what it is, between the third and fourth hour, and it is called man.  It hums and sings louder with every beat.  It draws into itself, tall with fingers as willowy as his body. It is kindness that people enjoy when the man comes knocking on all kinds of doors.  Lightly

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(I haven’t gotten my story back from the proofreader and I haven’t wanted to write my second novel idea. So here’s my poem based of the dream I had about Shakespeare and Poe arguing about the correct way to write a poem. While I don’t remember much of what they were arguing about, I assume

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Grab it all up in your arms and put it in a black bag. This is what we don’t need anymore. All of it needs to be forgotten and dumped in the landfill. But at what result? At what cost? Cities should be more pure and cleaner now. People from small and large countries have

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In the elementary school carnival, I had my eyes on the cupcakes. The white frosting on some and green on others. They all had sprinkles to entice me to pay good money. They were regarded as the big prize as did every other student. I won small plastic prizes or tiny rubber monsters I put

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Rubberband and rubberband, stretched out and worn. Holding together too wide of opinions. Asking too much of the rubberband and rubberband. Writing letters of disappointment, how could you? and how dare you? and God won’t forgive! The words repeated still ringing in my ears. Tension, tension, spreading like a virus. Powerful as corona and invisible

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It’s okay to tread on yourself. I don’t care.  I don’t mind. It’s what I thought it’d be.  It’s what I knew you’d be. The flag is raised and flows free in the wind.  It never stops moving.  You made certain that flag never belonged to me. I’m not from your city.  I’m not part

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