Why haven't I written a poem about kissing him yet?
Maybe because when his lips met mine they took my words with them
And maybe words can't describe his lips but his lips
Are made up of words I just can't make out
Because I just want to make out with them
His lips are music humming a melody,
A warm, vibrating rhythm
Lighting up my soul with fire
And I feel as though I'm glowing
His lips are not just words but a whole set
Of lyrics
Singing to my heart
We are the ink lines
Tangled together to spell out a word
That I just can't put my finger on
I'm sure it's somewhere on his lips
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 12:29 AM UTC
Now that I know
You feel this too
I'm at a loss for words
I'm stuck in that moment
Of butterfly bliss
All since my feelings were heard
I'm still picturing that second
Your arm brushed mine
I'm still looking up at your smile
But I don't mind it
I've waited to find such
A sweet place to stay for a while
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 8:58 AM UTC
It snowed in Louisiana today
And stayed for a while
We were encompassed in white
I in your smile
We drove the slick roads
Passed houses on ice
You laughed at my wander
How I almost cried twice
And who would I want to spend
The day with but you
You made this experience
More than something new
The snow was fleeting
As it left in a day
I'm okay with all that,
I just hope that you stay
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 9:09 AM UTC
Everyone is excited about snow
But here I am at 4am
Wondering if I'll see you later
And if you'll accept
That invitation to lunch
There is something exhilarating about
These first few moments
Not knowing
If the rain will turn to sleet or snow
If you'll say yes or no
This Louisiana cold
Leaves me needing warm
My chilly heart is yearning
But will you do it harm
Just please, don't keep me waiting
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 5:20 AM UTC
I don't know if it's the smell of the coffee or the warmth of the cup
But there's something about this coffee shop that heals
Complete strangers scattered among booths and bars, chatting over a charging laptop
Scribbling passionately in a notebook
Different jobs and different lives
Dressed in scrubs, a suit, sweats
I want to converse with them all
These living stories
Because through these people I discover more and more about who I am and where I'm supposed to be
There's something about this coffee shop that's home
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 11:17 PM UTC
When did poetry replace sleep for me?
And since when do I write about people before they say goodbye?
There's something about the words
That describe you
And how I wish they would pour out of me all at once
But right now, all I can say is
Hello
And the next few pages will tell the rest
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 11:12 PM UTC
There is something about sunrises
That turn the world green and gold
They wake the birds who chirp and sing
They replace with new, the old
There is something about the contrast
Of the light behind the trees
The morning draws a picture
With the darkened limbs and leaves
There is something about the song
In the quiet of the morning
Interrupted by sharp chirping
The dance of the new day dawning
There's something about the smallness
Of this big, round planet
That makes you tilt your head and wonder
What you've taken for granted
So just remember while the sun is rising
You can surely bet
That somewhere on this small, round planet
Someone is watching it set
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
If I could climb up into the night sky
And jump from star to star
To land upon the moon,
I'd apologize to it
For the way we don't appreciate its beauty enough
I'd apologize for every sunset I've watched without looking around to find its silver beauty, as I was immersed in orange and red
I'd apologize for laying back and finding the constellations in the sky but not staring in awestruck wonder at the beauty of the craters. Shadows dancing in the light the cresent gives off
As people, we should aim to be like the moon. Simple, with it's graceful imperfections, it's different dresses as time passes by and our shadow overtakes it
As people, we should not try to shine so bright as the sun, that we might burn each other if we try to look within
We should not be like the stars, so set apart from one another
We should be the moon. Silent, silver, saving graces. The light that shines in the dark and the craters that leave a mark.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 10:29 AM UTC
The night air is breathable
in Louisiana for once
And we're sitting outside a coffee shop
under a full, December moon.
As it turns a gold to silver color, climbing it's way up higher, cars are zipping by on the highway behind you
And I wish I were close enough to hear every word as your voice gets lost when those tires pass us by
Or maybe I just want to be closer
We've sat here for hours, enjoying the peace and the conversation
and I can't find any want or reason to leave
There's something about the way the moon tells time and how we don't realize it but as it finds its way to sit up above us on that cloudy night, ringed by a circle of light, time has passed.
And it's beautiful: the empty parking lot, the stream of headlights, the open sky and the moon's quiet presence. Your smile.
It's one of those moments I don't need a picture of because it's already taken its place on a shelf behind my eyelids
And now I'm emptying out the old frames, leaving old pictures in the back of my mind but making room and praying for more moments just like this one
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 9:16 AM UTC