30 Days of Poetry: Day #12

30 Days of Poetry: Day #12

Day 12: Write a poem in the perspective of a stranger

 

I see her staring at me.

She looks like she ought to be a person that always stares, I know how she feels.

I’m staring back.

I’ll go back to my ways. But, I wonder. What are the chances of seeing that person again?

I wonder how many people looked at me and thought the same thing. I doubt it.

But it’s a thought.

What are the odds that I will see that woman again, the staring woman?

I won’t give it another thought, let me go on my day.

But, did she think the same thing too-

there she goes walking away.

Hm, will she see me again?

 

H

 

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30 Days of Poetry: Day #11

30 Days of Poetry: Day #11

Day 11: Write a poem based on your favorite lyric

 

I am overcome by the process of living

With what they throw back and what I can catch

And I try to pull the buckets of tears over my sail

To take me out to the vastness.

And I see your arms and a stretch it made

From your skin brought a wave

Of a happy disaster, what a surprise.

And as the wave cast, Your sweat pushed me through,

To the undiscovered temples.

And your words salted my tongue and eyes

As bubbles orbed around me

And we floated past the waving grass.

 

H

 

“My life in an upturned boat, marooned on a cliff
You brought me a great big flood
And you gave me a lift
To care, what a gift
You tell me with your tongue
And your breath was in my lungs
And you float over the rift”

“Simple Song” by The Shins

30 Days of Poetry: Day #10

30 Days of Poetry: Day #10

Day 10: Write about the moon without using the words, bright, shine, dark, crator, and moon.

 

I always wonder how you still look glowing
Even though your skin is cracked and porous.
You give an aura at night, you still seem to beam.
I always wonder if you are ever alone,
do you have friends or want companionship.
I know it’s been 45 years since our last visit.
The closest I can get to you is by sea
I meet you at your ripe tide
As you pull me back and forth, back and forth.
I bet it is so quiet all the way up there
so I’ve made a song for you,
I’ll sing it to you through bubbles.
Your face is like a pie and I want to take a slice.
 I can see you smile crookedly on those fun nights,
And you carry me home on those long somber rides.

 

H

 

 

 

30 Days of Poetry: Day #9

30 Days of Poetry: Day #9

Day #9: write an honest poem about yourself, don’t hold anything back.

 

I relapse in my thoughts

And its a drug I can’t stop welcoming.

Don’t worry it’s not tangible, I can’t taste it, I can’t consume it.

Everyone has it. So I think it’s okay to feel this way.

 

I overthink and take too much time

To make a choice or to decide.

I tend to get mad, and days like this I stop everything.

People don’t know me to be crippled in cold,

but that means you don’t know me

 

I always get tired. I get tired of trying to be something.

I don’t care for crowds and loud people talking at the same time.

I prefer to be alone, or with one great person.

I feel that I can show you myself more

Otherwise, I won’t say much.

 

I force words out of my mouth and It feels like I’m throwing up acid

Becuase nothing sticks, it just burns a hole through an ear.

I can’t speak loud anyway and when I do

It’s always something wrong.

 

Then I stare at people

And I wish I could be you, him, her.

I wish I could feel pretty all the time and not let my jealous rage

make me angry for no reason.

I start to think I hate people.

 

I don’t realize this about me

I think I’ve earned to feel emotion and sadness from time to time

But all the time- that’s the issue.

It’s not good to drown others with me while I’m at it.

 

This isn’t an intervention, and I’m not trying to feel sorry for myself.

I don’t hate myself and I do find my company great.

I have grown to love my self, and I am learning to just

let it go.

 

I find myself cute and pretty. I find myself sexy.

I believe to be different.

I like the things I like, and I like how I give my heart and love and patience to many

I worry that I’ll get hurt. But I’ve been hurt many times before, not by a love

but from all.

 

But I always seem to still be here.

I’m here and so is everyone else.

I’m still working on myself and I haven’t figured out what is wrong sometimes.

 

I just know that there are so much more beautiful things to cry about.

 

H