Before Darkness (Prompt 3)

Before Darkness I don’t remember bottles, or rattles. I remember crying, the only words screaming. Then suddenly it stops. Warmth. Comfort. It’ll be alright. I remember fireworks, “Mama, look at the pretty lights!” Scared of the thunder. Hold me tighter, closer to your heart. Skinned elbows and bruised…

Sueños

SUEÑOS Dejé mis sueños para buscar nuevos horizontes sin tomar en cuenta los peligros que enfrentaría. Iba lleno de sencillas ilusiones, sueños de niño. Cubría mis sueños con mi inocencia sin pensar que algún día encontraría trabas que pondrían mis sueños bajo tierra. ¿Qué sabía…

Farm Girl Pantoum

How did I end up here on a farm when I’ve always felt at home in the city? How did I become so domestic, so unsophisticated, so middle class? I’ve always felt at home in the city, but now I look at city lawns in…

Poem 7

Home   Packing my bags, Going to home. The real joy, While having many storms. Counting days, Which says, few days more, Then you will be at your door. Where the roots originates, From a leaf to tree, That made me free. Does not matter,…

Prompt 8: Ravenous Pantoum

A lamb, waiting for wolves to take my meat When monstrous teeth sunk deep into my flesh Changed the molecules of who I am And now I raven, wild beneath the moon.   When monstrous teeth sunk deep into my flesh I howled with the pain…

Angst

I see you there all cool in your imagined success, feeling smug as if you pulled it off. I see you there. I see more than the form that you you. I see the hurt, the pain, the lies. I see the truth you try…

Come Along with Me

Come along with me, Let us watch the stars, Let’s watch and stare at it ‘Till it mend our broken scars. Let us watch the stars , And drown in our constellation of thoughts ‘Till it mend our messed up scars, And find the things…

VII. Have You Met My Friend, Proust?

  Proust was a man of many words. If you could say it in five, He’d say the same thing in 50, and I loved every line. So often, I find myself staring at the empty page seeing a polar bear in a blizzard eating snow. My…

On being

You don’t have to write to write a poem– sometimes you can be a writer; sometimes, you just need to be.

Already

I’m sorry, not easily said. You know I mean it when I say I love you, but you knew that already. Even if I don’t always show it. You know I mean it when I say I Think of you all the time. Even if…