Ice girlBorn from the first snowIce girl7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
northern lights above
I grew up to be strong
not to fear the dark
that's where stars are born
the great nothingness
I learned to bear the cold
the freezing wind
sleet and grain
chilly summer rain
teached me to be humble
get up when I stumble
make my own path
through the snow and slush
Born in the northern woods
I grew up to be me
and I'm proud to be
part of arctic history
psychomotor agitation Remember how we used to hide under the blackness that hung off the trees' arms and I would tell you about plagues and fairies and your skin would be so pale in a sprung-up Sun and I told you I had a book of magic spells sitting at home, and that if you were good I would show them to you, and you said please, I'm good, I'm good, I'm so good, and I crossed my arms?psychomotor agitation7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And remember how we used to roll around in your backyard, all legs and shinbones and white socks and bleached flesh and fat tongues and swollen-cute cheeks, and we used to be dogs and we would swim across your new dying green ocean, and your dog would come running to prove us wrong, his tail caught inside his teeth, and I would think about silver sulfur bars and white-yellow calcium cages, and you stood and tried to brush the dirt-emerald color
don't tell me if the sun diesi.don't tell me if the sun dies7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there is a drumbeat of silence
mirrored between your hands. you
massage the pit of suffering and
grace and sinew and dust and cells
and tears with echoed fingers. there is
too much for you to squeeze
between shaven palms.
(i only ask that
when my hair has fallen loose and my
skin has worn itself into jewelry,
you take me home.)
you listen to the
crickets. they sing a eulogy for the number
they have lost today.
the day i die, i will come
tapping at your window, my fingernails
drumming to find the skin
chirrp; chirrp; chirrp.
don't wait up.
for every criminal: a flower.
(pluck it in the morning,
when the dew is still on
the backs of dragons and
butterflies and monsters
and ocean salt carried inside
the wings of pigeons built to be
doves inside a cradle of space
and time and air; and don't forget
months of the year.october:months of the year.7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
was when i met you.
we were in a coffee shop. it was stuffy and crowded, but it smelt like hope and the coffee was decent.
you sat down next to me, quietly, and neither of us said anything as you watched my coffee get cold.
'why?' you asked softly.
'i don't like getting burned.'
it's a shame i ended up getting burned anyway.
i had this incredibly eccentric neighbor.
she put her christmas lights up at the beginning of november. i never understood why.
most of the lights ended up dying by december.
and then i thought of the lights as the important people in my life, and i thought it was ironic how, in the end, they always ended up dying or leaving, too.
the first night it snowed that year, you brushed my hair out of my eyes and smiled. i asked, 'what are you smiling about?'
you said, 'i know what my new year's resolution will be.'
i asked, 'what?'
you said, 'i'm going to be more careful. my goal is to not break anything out of clumsiness.' and suddenly,
Vesper Verses....Vesper Verses...7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You were born
subject first and capitalized
like a proper noun
You were a long run-on
and you ran on lines of velocity
across my skin
You hit your first comma
when your old man hit a semicolon
Your mother called it a crisis
but at the time you just thought
it meant two of everything:
two houses on the opposite sides of town
more money in your pocket
and a double life to spend it on
Later, you said it felt like
your life was divided and
everything was half of what it should be
I didn't understand;
I had two parents living to-
gether and my hair didn't split at the ends
like yours used to
I loved enjambment because of the way
you spilled into me
like you required more
than your boundaries allowed
Everything about you was creation:
verses sat in your lungs
waiting to breathe into
everything you touched
was a finished product
I never liked
the finality of death's punctuation
but you're the one who said
let it love you, let it die
like that was supposed to
imitating lifeif it's too brokeimitating life7 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
don't fix it
pick apart the problems
put the pieces on exhibit
see, my pen breathes & bleeds
because my heart beats too afraid
mistakes made into art
in an attempt to trick my trade
a steady fade away from focus
on the flaws that frame this feeling
fact lacks the impact that makes
fiction so appealing
and an admission's less revealing
(w)rapped in a rhymer's guise
private parts don't rank so major
when they've been generalized
All diameters specified,
and written compositions
from those passed who testified
Limbs encased, and set aside
Windows to the hell inside,
The clash of when my pen collides
Among bass lines of hearts beating
Diseased seedlings dreaming
Screaming poems from tree leaf
doused in pen ink that compose
a foes defeating.
Clear and vivid harmful images,
enthroned in tablets depicted
in words fallen slowly
from my sickened grips
deadly when in melody
released in increments
Solar System SomethingsIve always thought the death of baby birds wasSolar System Somethings7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sadder than finding the heart of a cats kill
feathers indicate one went down fighting
but the baby bird just went down
jumped too soon (jumped the gun and the nest)
As a child, I had to recognize that sometimes
people hurt people
because they love:
(he moved because he needed the job, but I still cried
the entire month he was gone filling elementary journals
with wheres daddy wheres daddy why did he go)
people hurt people
because they dont:
(I heard about a husband who threw his wife into a tree shredder
now I can only listen to the sounds of machinery at work and
the cries of trees rent asunder and think
what did his wife sound like?)
At a young age I learned that
old dogs, in fact, dont learn new tricks and
sometimes they die overnight like grandparents
We can easily mistake death for sleep, but
that Saturday morning my dog was dead dead dead
had finally given up when everything gave out
Yes, good, okaya blank page is my piano.Yes, good, okay7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and sometimes, you have to ignore the truth
to accept it more thoroughly
when the light finally falls against your kneecaps
in bars of sun
and you see the hair you missed shaving
and you don't care, really, because you know who you are.
When this happens,
it is not like the shifting of a puzzle piece back into its place;
it is not like the moon being brighter than usual, it is not a shooting star,
it is not a bittersweet release. It is a song
careening off the tip of a worn tongue and catching
on the back of its notes,
their clefs and colors
settling into your bones.
It is not an affair, a miracle,
or a passed test. It is simply and finally the sight
of you not looking away from your own gaze.
It is family, it is the taste of your own sigh.
It is the extensive, the whole, the unblocked. It is you.
Your back hurts.
Your nails are growing.
And every second felt
is a second alive every second alive
how to grow sideways.i don't know anything about sciencehow to grow sideways.5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
but i know a lot about time travel
and if i could,
i would grab her hand while she wrote her first poem,
stand beside her as she tacked it to the fridge.
i would whisper secrets about fairytales, explain to her that
some days will just smell like your grandmothers perfume and
your grandfathers suit.
other days, you'll smell flowers that aren't really there
and instead of fridges, you will learn to tack smiles
in spaces where they no longer fit.
i would tell her about the deer by the well, hand her a map
so she could find her way home but i had better lessons to teach her
like how to inhale her first cigarette, how to keep her mouth shut
while other people spoke for her. how to keep fear safely guarded between
gritted teeth and nothing, nothing about love.
this is how you knock back vodka, this is how you cradle yourself
when you're alone in your room.
this is how to forget meals, how to forget your name.
this is how rake, how to rinse, how to shake o
cold kissesI walk beneathcold kisses7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a leaden sky,
falls on my
I run from
Writing Prompts: FirstsWriting Prompts: Firsts9 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
27 September 2006
Writing Prompt: Firsts
"My name is Kathleen Schapiro, and I am sixteen years old. I think that 16 is the best age to be because it is a perfect square (4x4) and also happens to be the sum of the letters in my first and last names. I live in New York City, in the Bronx. Bronx, New York City also has 16 letters, but the city itself has five boroughs, which I do not like. I share an apartment with my mother, father, older brother Nick, and my cat Nietzsche. He is a mackerel tabby cat, and the spots on his nose are not quite symmetrical. A mackerel is also a type of fish, but I do not think he knows that."
There was a long moment of silence, and then the woman adjusted the tiny glasses on her decidedly un-tiny nose. I noticed a fleck of dust on the left lens, approximately a quarter of an inch from the rim, and wondered how she could stand to wear them.
"It's nice to meet you, Kathleen. Why don't you tell me a little bit abo
A Day WithoutThe sunA Day Without5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wrapped teasing fingers around my body
and shook me awake this morning.
Though I usually sleep in,
early morning is my favorite time of day.
When the sun is just peeking its timid head above the horizon,
eyes playing peek-a-boo with the edge of the Earth,
and its rays tickling the edges of dew drops.
It gives the whole world a soft glow,
that seems to warm your heart,
as much as the damp grass.
Trying to get out of bed quietly,
I let my bare feet hit the cool hardwood,
smooth beneath my feet,
as if welcoming me, and pulling me into the day.
An odd feeling is growing in my stomach,
and I rustle the bed a little too much.
You awake with me, now
and your smile,
nearly as dazzling as the rising sun,
lights up the room.
"Whatcha doing, my love?"
Your hair is tousled by sleep's playful hands,
and voice trying to stay as quiet as the early morning air.
My eyebrows furrow,
You prop yourself up on your elbows,
lips brushing my shoulder lov
Morning Coffee"Morning, my love." My voice is lilting, and floats on the spring-scented breeze, as I bustle around the kitchen, not bothering to turn, as you take your place at the table.Morning Coffee5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The curtains, thrown wide to welcome the rising sun, are quivering in the gentle wind, and I glance outside, "It's warming up already, this afternoon's sure to be beautiful. Do you think we could go out and start the garden, later? It's a little early in the season, but it's bound to be a lovely day." I ask you, eyes smiling as I take in the dew-speckled grass, glittering in the early sun just beyond the window pane.
I nod to myself, "Yes, yes. I bought the seeds a week or so, ago. Evie had a sale on at her shop, you know. I got all your favorites, dear. Snapdragons, Sweet Peas, Impatiens and Schizanthus. It'll be just beautiful."
I pull my gaze from the window, and saunter over to the coffeemaker, mood lifted by the weather, and prospect of spending the day outdoors, enjoying it. As the coffee
writing on the walli am your mother before she knew you, before you intruded upon her womb and painted bloodied messages on her gummy walls and let your foot imprint itself inside her pinking skin and left all your sunrises behind and tried to peer from outside her skin to see where the air might touch and turn and make you.writing on the wall7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
(she misses you, you know. you should visit her more often.)
i am your mother before she met your father, in a can on the street inside a restaurant around the corner all her life for the first time, and she rubbed her fingers against her eyes trying to muster some form of strangled black tears but all that was left were little red marks identifying exactly where the fingers hit and almost broke through, and she keeps a straight face all the way till the end; hers.
(when she talks, she strokes the white roses you promised to give her. i never
know quite what to tell her, so i tell her, "soon, i
ater atra atrum zamiaEverything I've ever wanted to give you you've made me keep.ater atra atrum zamia7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of Love and Lightening BugsOf Love and Lightening Bugs4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mommy, I love you so bad
she whispers, with her arms wrapped tightly around me.
her cherub face looks up into mine-
springing auburn curls
and sparkling hazel eyes.
a nose sprinkled with kisses from the sun
the biggest smile you would never want to dim
shared especially with me.
Mommy, can I catch a lightening bug and keep it forever?
her words echo into the diminishing sunset.
I turn away while the words linger for a moment and then fade away
and the lightening bugs dance on the corn tops and stalks of wheat.
She flutters at my feet, much like them
difficult to capture and impossible to contain.
So confident she is, and wistful am I,
I hate to disappoint her, but say anyway-
I'm sorry, little one. Lightening bugs can't live forever.
How Could You?How did I let it get this bad?How Could You?5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm so ashamed
I should've seen it coming,
That you were going to hurt me this badly
That it's impossible for me to be loved,
Especially by you.
I can't even see your name and not cry
So what will this year bring?
But I had regained some hope near the end of last year,
Will you give me that again?
Or will you stay silent,
Making me go back into the darkness...
I can only hope that you'll help me,
Or at least,
I know you can save me,
But I know you won't
You're the one that hurt me
And what am I supposed to do,
When the one who hurt me...
Is the only one that can save me?
25 Words of Unrequited LoveI can't help this feeling.25 Words of Unrequited Love5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This unbearable burning - the demon in my stomach is crying out for you.
And yet, you don't answer his call.
BIRDIf I regret anything, it is the reticence of birds--BIRD5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my reticence, the uncertainty of the word "today,"
which rusts like the flute before Judith one.
If there is a time to undress, it is now,
but my thoughts close in on me, like a tunnel,
and I lose sight of everything except the wind.
Beneath it all, my hollow bones
are icy blue, each joy expunged--
I feel it keenly, here, and there.
journal entry number negativewhen i picked up my camera it was heavy and felt right in my hands. this is new, i thought, but it didn't feel new. i put it up to my face and looked through it and into myself, it seemed, though i could see nothing but what was in front of me. objects became important. hands became important. sight became important. moving became important.journal entry number negative7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
my camera is my best friend, and is the reason i get out of bed every morning. i said this in front of a mirror, watching my lips move and wondering at the sight. i was new. i named my camera jack kerouac because he could say things better than anyone else.
the first day it was cloudy and i took a picture outside. i wanted a picture of my hand so i wouldn't forget it. i wanted a picture of your hand inside of mine even though at that moment you were probably on a date with a girl or asking her inside or asking to be inside of her. i did not know this at the time. i wanted to take a hundred and five pictures of you, talking and smiling and breathing