an oak tree stands tall in a field
she has been there for hundreds of years and she has no intent on moving anytime soon
she has grown
she has become a home to many who have come across her
she has seen a plethora of ordeals:
love
hate
depression
excitement
birth
and death
she knows all
yet she still keeps the same firm face
a storm hits her field
lightening fills the sky and thunder echos in the air
it is frightening
but the oak stays in her spot
and keeps her face firm
in the commotion
she is struck
a new orange glow bursts from her regular green and brown tones
she is ablaze
every piece of her is burning
a pain that could never be known fills her every atom
all of her friends scatter from her branches
saving themselves from the heat
she stands alone
she feels every inch of pain
she watches everyone she has ever known leave her
she is aware of the inevitable for not even the harsh rain and brutal hail can calm this blast
yet still
she does not move
her face stays firm and her screams stay shut within the bark till she is nothing but ash washed into the new mud of an old home
the orange glow fades as suddenly as it arrived
her residents find new homes
her pain is forgotten
what was once the center of this field
a reliable home
a being who knew everything that came with life
now knows only what she is: nothing.
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 8:52 PM UTC
being a woman in the 21st century is great
a past full of women who fought for us
for us to vote
for us to work
for us to feel safe
for us to be equal to our male counterparts
now i can buy pepper spray at my college bookstore
now i can learn to hate *** because i began to be sexualized at 11 years old
now i can walk down my street and only hope to blend in to all those around me so i don’t get yelled at by strange men
now i can have a one night stand and pray no mistakes happen and punch my lower stomach and pump my body with toxins as much as possible just in case
this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg
this isn’t even every struggle a woman must make
but can’t you agree that
being a woman in the 21st century is great?
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 4:19 AM UTC
i imagine her song soft and sweet
the vibrations of her vocal cords pulling me in as she sings
she is not the one to be afraid of
she is the one who brings relief after god’s wrath
her arms spread round my body like a mother swaddling her newborn child
i do not fear her as she approaches
for she only wishes to bring care in this trying time
i fear the maker who gave me all i have
just to throw me away
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 3:21 AM UTC
growing up in theater i often heard that all the world’s a stage
logically, i always knew what those words meant, it’s a simple statement after all
yet it took me 19 years and a post-breakup one night stand to actually experience my stage
i was an actress, holding in myself and expressing who my audience wanted me to be
my audience need not know my true intentions, only what needed to be portrayed
joy, pleasure, tears, and pain were the four acts and i glided gracefully
and on the quiet ride home i studied my cigarette, my tired mind convincing itself it was no more than a stage smoke you could buy at the theatrical shop in valley junction
and it hit me
all the world’s a stage and my play is a tragedy
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
it's wood cut and clawed
markings of years of
misuse
built to be sturdy and strong
it's legs stir and shake
with every new addition
books
bags
even bodies
til one day
snap
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 9:44 PM UTC
i told you i hated july
the heat made me want to die
the lakes were too muddy and pools too crowded to find a place to cool
the city was too slow paced to find anything to do with the vast amount of free time
and any activity was too much for my wallet to spare
but it was all a lie
i love the sun
i love the lakes
i love the city and all the things it has to share
i really only hate july
because it's the month i had to stop being with you
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 9:38 PM UTC
once electric and new
your strings put up a fight,
but now our ties have dwindled down
and they are no more than strands of hair.
my counter is in disarray
broken tiles lay at my feet,
but my rock is sharpened
held in my hands waiting to strike.
now i just need to think
am i about to be free
or make my biggest mistake?
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 5:31 PM UTC
when i'm letting someone go i picture guitar strings
plastic
fragile.
then comes the knife
the sharpest butcher's knife one has ever seen
glistening
fresh.
with one fatal swoop
impact is made and
the strings are cut like
butter.
but your strings are different
electric
metallic
strong and built to last.
and suddenly my knife
is but a rock on a stick
it holds no chance
bouncing off with every hit.
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 5:28 PM UTC
There are too many poems about the sun shining through a dark day
But they're all true
When we feel we the weight of a thousand worlds bear down upon us
When we feel we cannot breathe without making a mistake
When we feel we are better off in the distant land that comes after life
There is a ray
It is a song
It is a book
It is that first sip of coffee on a cold day
It is mother nature
It is the people we hold dearest
The people who remind us that we are not alone
The people who strengthen us to push those worlds, to take those breaths
The people who remind us to stay here, in life
When I am my cloudy day
These people are my rays of hope.
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 1:31 PM UTC