maryvelards - Hello Poetry

What is of a child's worth, they say, if not to save the Earth? But hundreds of miles away a twelve year old girl sits in a classroom and learns about the world as it passes by. How's it come to this-- having to defend the world to be able to live in it? How's it come to this-- to be born rid of birthright? Must a child's life burn as fast as a candle's wick, or a forest in a slow, painful disappearing trick? And instead of a crowd roar of applause, there's only silence; and then nothing.

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Sep 25, 2019

Sep 25, 2019 at 3:04 AM UTC

"Evergreen"

What is of a child's worth, they say, if not to save the Earth? But hundreds of miles away a twelve year old girl sits in a classroom and learns about the world as it passes by. How's it come to this-- having to defend the world to be able to live in it? How's it come to this-- to be born rid of birthright? Must a child's life burn as fast as a candle's wick, or a forest in a slow, painful disappearing trick? And instead of a crowd roar of applause, there's only silence; and then nothing.

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The boogeyman wears the same ring as mummy And sleeps in her bed every night Yesterday he hit my mummy and told me she was alright.

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Sep 22, 2019

Sep 22, 2019 at 3:13 AM UTC

Untitled

The boogeyman wears the same ring as mummy And sleeps in her bed every night Yesterday he hit my mummy and told me she was alright.

4

Settle? For less? Darling I shape my dreams with clouds and dance on gloom for me to chase false happiness. I am no bookshelf dust. I have far a desire to remain on cobwebbed nooks. I have far a desire to be as i am, and be just that.

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Sep 21, 2019

Sep 21, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC

we’re all made, not of dust, but of star stuff

Settle? For less? Darling I shape my dreams with clouds and dance on gloom for me to chase false happiness. I am no bookshelf dust. I have far a desire to remain on cobwebbed nooks. I have far a desire to be as i am, and be just that.

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i’ve witnessed how his spine grows soft— what makes his knees sink into the ground. i am certain that the first time he said he wanted me was the first time the word “want” felt like a leash around my neck— you’ve got your hands full. and on days you flinch when you hear the word commitment, they slink out empty.

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Sep 21, 2019

Sep 21, 2019 at 11:09 AM UTC

greed is a funny little thing

i’ve witnessed how his spine grows soft— what makes his knees sink into the ground. i am certain that the first time he said he wanted me was the first time the word “want” felt like a leash around my neck— you’ve got your hands full. and on days you flinch when you hear the word commitment, they slink out empty.

8

how a soul could wreak so much havoc over another, reminds me why hurricanes are named after people and why pulses to pulses are sometimes unapologetically catastrophic mgv

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Sep 18, 2019

Sep 18, 2019 at 12:14 PM UTC

how do you evacuate?

how a soul could wreak so much havoc over another, reminds me why hurricanes are named after people and why pulses to pulses are sometimes unapologetically catastrophic mgv

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Oh how sweet it is to want and how fleeting it is to have.

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Sep 9, 2019

Sep 9, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC

Untitled

Oh how sweet it is to want and how fleeting it is to have.

4

should i inherit the good days and find myself rolling on grassfields teeth bared and barefoot, i will think of you. and should i dance around on barren land, nimbuses by my ankles and still river, i will think of you. my dear, i’m afraid i cannot fathom a day that i dont. i would not want to.

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Sep 6, 2019

Sep 6, 2019 at 9:36 AM UTC

fri-daydreaming

should i inherit the good days and find myself rolling on grassfields teeth bared and barefoot, i will think of you. and should i dance around on barren land, nimbuses by my ankles and still river, i will think of you. my dear, i’m afraid i cannot fathom a day that i dont. i would not want to.

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What a waste it is— to be human and be contained.

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Sep 4, 2019

Sep 4, 2019 at 12:53 PM UTC

Untitled

What a waste it is— to be human and be contained.

3

Trauma makes a joke out of your peace— like a circus visiting town leasing under your skin. There is no punchline.

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Aug 16, 2019

Aug 16, 2019 at 5:49 AM UTC

Untitled

Trauma makes a joke out of your peace— like a circus visiting town leasing under your skin. There is no punchline.

4

there's a cavalry that gushes out like river water when the wall tilts a few staring games away and yet its never a game until it is-- a house of cards and you, a sweet nosedive. sleeves long enough to swallow hands that flinch from careful collision and i'll tell you my name and maybe where i'm from and maybe where i went to school but i'll save the rest like a maybe-midnight-snack. i'll fold my body in half 'til you could only get past the purgatory of where i deem myself unbreakable. i sometimes get cramps from choosing to remain a mystery long enough to be a mystery to myself so i apologize if i sometimes mistake the butterflies for wasps. a mummy but in caution tapes, anxiety like a badge of honor. i guess what im trying to say is, i swear, i like you. but the words come out like bricks.

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Jul 28, 2019

Jul 28, 2019 at 11:53 AM UTC

this is what it feels like to come from hurt

there's a cavalry that gushes out like river water when the wall tilts a few staring games away and yet its never a game until it is-- a house of cards and you, a sweet nosedive. sleeves long enough to swallow hands that flinch from careful collision and i'll tell you my name and maybe where i'm from and maybe where i went to school but i'll save the rest like a maybe-midnight-snack. i'll fold my body in half 'til you could only get past the purgatory of where i deem myself unbreakable. i sometimes get cramps from choosing to remain a mystery long enough to be a mystery to myself so i apologize if i sometimes mistake the butterflies for wasps. a mummy but in caution tapes, anxiety like a badge of honor. i guess what im trying to say is, i swear, i like you. but the words come out like bricks.

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