FiftyPlease understand: I do not wantFifty3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to want this (you).
I realized at poem nineteen-of-fifty:
You (college-borne) are a new you,
I (weaponized) am a new me,
and the new me still wants the new you.
The Hungry SeasonThe Hungry SeasonThe Hungry Season6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The next season will be the hungry season.
Moses M. Kolinmore
A stem, a leaf, a stem,
a stem again,
and the army of our bodies
hanging from the branches
of the Dahoma trees.
We come to this as moths
on Saharan winds
with no malice but the wings
direction, our caterpillar mouths,
our waiting numbers
cocooned in dirt. We are
aching and glutted
but hungry still, even as
we strip the canopy bare of leaves
and foul each river black
with waste below us
our gruesome chatter asking,
as we fall into the dirt
to reshape what we are,
can you imagine the hunger?
But of course you can; of course,
you hunger the same as we.
SexualityThe hurtful stares,Sexuality5 years ago in Open More Like This
The burning laughs,
Am I really that different?
Does it matter who I like,
Whether it be boys, girls, or both?
I live every day,
Being hated, despised,
For something I was born with.
What disease plagues me so?
What makes them hate?
To you, I am a leper.
I am a freak with no worth.
A godless heathen,
I refuse my titles,
As Romeo did to Juliet...
Or rather, Romeo to Benvolio?
Yes, that seems more fitting.
I love my fellow women,
More than most others.
Does that make me wrong?
Will I be forgiven by God?
To be honest,
I don't care about anyone's opinion,
Let alone God's.
Dear Poetry,I might be dangerously on the verge of being poetic, but-Dear Poetry,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sometimes I don't feel me in my own skin.
I am too many breaks between pulses,
& a heart still living in the autumn of 99.
I'm telling stories about a girl.
A soul made of ink & godly metaphors,
too much for a non-homeostatic body.
There were once fireflies in her smile,
alight between the gaps in her teeth.
love letters carved into wrists
she never sent.
She is Porphyria, & you are her lover.
I Have No Names for all My Teacup BabesI feel always like I am starting over.I Have No Names for all My Teacup Babes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As a magpie I gather trinkets under my pillow,
bay leaves and bags of herbs to bring the next lover to me,
to call the next dream-face forwarda picture
painted in the tea leaves.
But truth be told the start-again
is never clean, is never gentle,
and the sweat of all that labour
is a fire on my skin, telling me
I will never resist its wind-cry.
The moon comes when I call, to help me;
midwife, she is, and she carries into being my new selves
like the babes they are, teaches them to
fill long footsteps like hers.
Truth be told, I tire of the destiny
I was given onceI am a teacup,
and I cling close to my china womb,
to my cup tipped over, upset
by careless elbows.
I imagine Mother Moon climbing her way back to me
on the backs of pine trees, sweeping across the Appalachians.
my grandmother had a blanket of galaxiesmy grandmother once told me that if i gathered allmy grandmother had a blanket of galaxies1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the stars in the midnight sky, i could sew them into
a giant blanket of galaxies for lovers to make wishes on.
this is what you do with your hands:
learn the same language my grandmother did all those
years prior to this moment of steam and shake.
come daybreak, we collapse into each other with the
sort of stumbling that my grandmother warned me of.
foolish hands know no boundaries, she would say.
thank God that i am boundless, finding you with probing fingers,
your shoulders a make-shift ladder i climbed to catch
just an inkling of heaven on the tip of my tongue.
if every i love you we whispered
into the gentle morning's ear
brought us closer together,
we would become each other.
folding until we are one:
nothing but a crease of constellations
on my grandmother's blanket.
If You Went AwayIf You Went Away3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
if you went
no one left
love like oursI think about herlove like ours2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I recall birdwings midflight,
a slow caracol on a blade of grass,
the last sip from a coke can,
quiet evenings with a good book,
sabbath afternoon prayers, an uplifting sermon.
because of her,
that love wasn’t
a forced chore
or spoken words
and instead it was,
more than actions,
a general attitude
I recall how,
for us, love was a river’s flow,
the ring of waves on stone
and rock, the low hum of water
trickling down the mountain slope
tickling the grass at the edge of the shore;
our love was natural, but it was myth and lore
and surreal, too unreal to be real.
and, to be honest maybe it was real
or maybe it wasn’t;
for a period of time suspended across the cosmos,
stars frozen in their place
– that is to say, freckles speckled across her cheeks –
and dark eyes like the dark sides of twin moons,
for a breath of suspense
in the present state of inanimate reality,
we loved each other equally
CAUTION: Overdose .Never have I tasted lipsCAUTION: Overdose .3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that could demolish me quite like yours.
Don't touch my skin like that,
you'll make me want to slip
into your veins.
WARNING: I'm more addictive than heroine.
Side effects may include sweat-soaked sheets,
loss of sight and bruises
[on your neck, collarbone and
every-fucking-where you'd like them, baby.]
Too bad you never were one to read labels.
I'll leave you so breathless, you'll find
your own fingers digging at your throat.
Sorry to disappoint -
oxygen will never satisfy you after
you get a taste of my breath
[between your hips.]
NecromancyI wanted to see what makes a human heartNecromancy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so I took a scimitar and ripped apart your decrepit
and inside that primordial ribcage I found nothing but
And you merely gave a cruel parody of a
dug your bloodstained claws into your
and tore out that infestation you called a
"Analyze that well, my little necromancer," you
fangs dripping with the acid I once begged to
"Perhaps you'll be as wise as me once you find the
I could only watch as you sunk back down into
clutching that contaminated Philosopher's Stone
knowing you had replaced my heart with the poison known as
'l o v e.'
The Best is Yet to Comeif we grow oldThe Best is Yet to Come2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there will be a sigh
an attention to the change
as your muscles slacken underneath
your faded, favorite shirt
the one that's threadbare, "holy"
in a sense less than divine
I'll have washed it for
the thousandth time
our eyes will crinkle, wrinkle
in ways that start to match
and we'll hold hands and ask:
when did the nerves and veins
begin to let our hands get cold?
-if we grow old
The Condemned manHe sits in the corner of the busy roomThe Condemned man3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
frequently checking his watch
and glancing around in obvious impatience.
He holds a child in his lap
but barely seemed to notice him.
Preoccupied by the constant beeping from his mobile phone
he ignores the happy babbling of his child,
clearly too busy for the little one's affection.
I watch him from my identical seat across the room;
my poet's active imagination
already condemning him
for the poor child's loveless future,
when something calls my attention back towards the man.
The child he holds in his arms
is now nodding softly in sleep;
the gently babbling quieting down smoothly.
I watch, as he haunches his shoulders around his sleeping child,
drawing the child closer into his body.
His arms comes up in a protective embrace,
his cheek dropping softly onto the silky hair.
The phone beeped once more
but the "condemned man" ignores it
lost in the simple joy of holding his sleeping child.
I watch him from my identical seat across the room
Vidimo se sutraJesi li sanjao sve svoje greškeVidimo se sutra2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I zakopao ih pod jastukom?
Da li koraci manje zapinju
Kada kažeš da ti je žao?
Želiš li oproštaj
Ili prihvataš sebe?
Hello, I'm Me- Nice To Meet YouI stand in the rain- until I’m soaked to the bone with the scent of itHello, I'm Me- Nice To Meet You1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Until my clothes stick to my skin and it’s uncomfortable to peel them off
I crawl out of bed at 2:33 am just to go look at the stars- even if I’m too tired to name them
Even if my hair is still wet from my shower and the tips start to freeze because it’s under 20 degrees F
I walk with my hands grazing the branches of trees- lips turned up the corners
Lips turned up at the corners because I get along with nature better than I do with humans
I give way too much ‘change’ to veterans asking for money- even though I know they may be lying
Even though they may be, but what if they’re not?
I listen to cashiers as they spill their tales of bad days across the scanner- as they scan 10 cans of cat food
As they scan 10 cans of cat food, I smile brightly- one that somehow reaches my eyes- and wish them a better tomorrow
I visit my town’s Radio Shack way too often- the two freq
Pyres aren't just for the dead.I am a fire-starter;Pyres aren't just for the dead.6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
all dragon's breath,
birthed by flame.
When you finally said
you needed me, I was
already reborn. Ash smeared
along my face,
fire drizzling my body.
I'm not the girl you were
hoping for, darling.
Too wild for your clammy
hands to grip and sculpt,
I am blazing, igniting.
My hands house infernos, my
heart is now a hearth.
I do not need
you to keep me warm.
the trans-, the pan- and the asexual. i.the trans-, the pan- and the asexual.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He couldn't feel like a boy
And a girl
At the same time.
So he grew his hair long
With colorful dreadlocks
And wore eyeliner
But kept his name.
They told her that
She could either love boys
So she fell in love
With the boy who
Was born as a girl.
He didn't feel love
For the girl with the large chest.
Or the boy with the sparkling eyes.
But that didn't mean
He didn't love them
In his own way.
If that boy's way of loving is
And the boy with the long hair and eyeliner's way of loving is
And the girl who had a taste for personality, not gender's way of loving is
Then aren't we all just
Vaguely heart-shaped. In another universe, who I amVaguely heart-shaped1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
gets dumped by a woman
who in another life
Today I divine this by finding a small blackened potato
between my oven and counter,
vaguely heart-shaped, sprouting
of no use to me,
I think on an inexplicably dramatic
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.Ways to conquer heartbreak2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
I Met MeToday I met a girl,I Met Me2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and she asked, "How are you?"
"Just fine," I replied.
She said, "No, tell me what's true."
Perplexed, I stopped and stared.
She was young, no older than eight.
Her eyes were still innocent.
They knew no hate.
"What did you say?"
I asked in confusion.
"You know what I mean," she said.
This girl was in a delusion.
Trying to be kind,I replied,
"No I do not."
She frowned and replied,
"You lie quite a lot."
Now I was agitated.
What does this girl know?
Acting like she's so intelligent.
I'll just tell her to go.
"Let me explain!"
She exclaimed in haste.
"I know you're not alright.
I know you feel misplaced."
How in the world?
Who is this little girl?
"But I'm here to say you'll be alright.
Though your friends will leave,
leave you feeling alone and cold,
you'll find a reprieve."
"So just stay strong
because I know you can do it."
How? Who are you?
I wished she would quit.
Suddenly it was silent,
and I turned to see,
but there was no one there at al
snapshot.a photo,snapshot.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
found in your closet:
tilted perspective of a party scene
dated two years, or a lifetime, ago.
blurred beer bottles, bodies
and laughter frozen by the flash, and
that girl in the background.
it's not so much that she was wearing a mask,
she just turned her face away from the camera
at the last second.
and it's not so much that you miss her,
it's just that you've forgotten
what her name was.
what her expression was.
what song was playing in the background.
and you're driving yourself crazy trying to remember.
.he stood on the shore,.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and told the sea he loved her;
the jealous wind tore his
voice in two
Queen RegnantAs you embroidered autumnQueen Regnant8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
into my bones, I heard the
trees giggle to themselves:
"We're going to make all
the leaves change color,
pin them along the sidewalk
for you to follow and we'll
wreathe them in your hair.
You will be our daughter."
You folded apples into my smile,
making it crisp, but sweet. I
took the time to thank you by
shrugging off my sweater and
giving it to you. A daughter
of the trees, braided with their
leaves, needs no protection
from the elements that embrace her.
"Your leaf diadem suits you,
daughter," they say as
their branches weave between
gusts of wind. For once,
I believe them.