Poems

These are a few poems from my Poetry Portfolio I made a few years ago for a class.  We were given topics to write about like grief, our home, love, etc.  This first writing is my ars poetica.  Enjoy.

I write to find myself.

To seek out my multiple personalities

that seep out of the ink,

resting in my hands.

What I can create,

is what creates me

and leaves me thriving,

to find more.

Poetry isn’t just a sonnet of words.

Poetry is when we

stop opening presents at

Christmas time, and listen.

It is stars that fall from our eyes.

It is telling the guy you like,

you love his yellow shirt,

and then he wears it every day.

It can impress you

like a first kiss.

Good or bad.

It can sting like a sun-burn,

or draw rain from your eyes.

Poetry is my soul

because it contains what I love.

Poetry

is what I cannot say,

in otherwise communication.

it lets me rest in its den

the lion, I am the lamb.

It evolves a sense of passion,

pouring out from my

every being.

I write to open your heart.

I write to deepen your vision.

I write to tell you,

good morning. 

Country Stars

It’s cold here.

And when it snows our houses

Disappear.

City lights do not exist

Here in the country.

We dwell beneath the stars.

They tell us where to go,

and provide romantic evenings

for young lovers.

My neighbor,

She’s one of those.

When he kisses her,

her eyes twinkle.

If she lived in the city,

the lights would drown her eyes out.

And he would cough,

from the haze in the air.

Romance would be lost.

 Anymore

Hello World,

Drowning in pollution.

Taken captive of

overpopulation.

Can’t help yourself.

The town women yell:

“Take care!”

No one takes care anymore.

The neighbors’ lawn

hide’s their rusted Camaro.

And the old gas station down the street

has been shut down for a few years now.

We use to buy penny candy there.

Now the bums work that corner

with their card board signs.

Begging for help

to get themselves out of

what they got themselves into.

I pass them everyday walking to school.

My parents can’t afford the bus.

What they bring in goes right back

out to the streets.

At school I feel alone.

The playground is the place

I got my first black eye.

Now I get one everyday

if I show up.

Teachers encourage me to come to school.

A “SAFE HAVEN” they claim.

Behind their desks,

a ruler in hand in case a student gets out of hand.

The bell rings, teachers yell:

“Take care!”

No one takes care anymore. 

So Cold

Muffled cries,

 fled

from me.

As I walked to 

the box, which

 held my 

dead grandpa,

to say goodbye. 

He was glowing gray

with make-up. 

Sunken eyes sewn shut.

thin, purple lips.

Lips that use to kiss

my forehead, so warm.

Now so cold.

I had never seen

A hollow before,

or touched something

so cold,

that wasn't snow. 

I kissed his forehead.

My lips froze

as they touch his bitter skin.

Now so cold.

Him who Hung the Moon

 It was getting late

The stars were poking out.

Mother was calling

it was time to go.

He kissed me goodbye

 and started home.

 I danced up the walk

to my room.

I was keen on him. 

Along with everyone else.

You’d have thought

he hung the moon.

Later on, I fell to sleep.

The night was dark.

I could not see the moon,

and I could not sleep without it.

In the dark

I heard a tiny sound

hitting the glass, bedroom window.

He had come to take

the sparkle in my eyes.

I gave it to him.

Then peeked outside,

to see him climbing up

the night sky,

until he reached the top.

He looked at me

Eyes shining.

Grabbed a rope from his pocket.

Hooked it to the sparkle

and hung it up.

 The moon was bright that night.

Sparkling in the sky.

I knew all along

It was him.

Him, who hung the moon.

Mask

I am a mask.

But what I hide

eventually comes out.

That man there,

he wore me to bed

with his wife’s best friend.

And that woman,

The same.  Also a woman.

Her husband would never suspect.

I am convenient.

A temporary pleasure.

Apparently, better than what you have.

I am the only one

who sees me as I truly am.

Not for long,

not for long.