oryan-gloer - Hello Poetry

And I am told to just forget you Like I haven’t seen your soul The way you breath and live And How I didn’t show you Where I hide my scars And why I don’t cry. It is Thursday And my father tells me about My stepmother. Apparently she Has been using a pandemic To make my father feel inadequate Because she is a high school teacher My father never graduated high school And my little brother is now to be homeschooled. I tell him I can’t do it anymore That the negativity is too much That it sounds like he is making her problems His own. That it sounds like He is still in a relationship With her. If she is so insecure That she must use her profession To make-up for her ability to mother It is her problem And not something we need to address or deal with Because it is her problem Not ours. I tell my father That he has already divorced her That he is not in a relationship with her And need not hold on to her problems Like we have a stake in them. That evening My father is not present For dinner at 6:30, Which has become The custom time we eat dinner As a family. This tells me That what I said May have been all too accurate. I wonder if my step mother is right To criticize him Right to point out That he has some **** to deal with Before he can provide a stable home. I eat dinner alone At the dining table. The only light on in the house Is in the kitchen and my brother’s bedroom The rest of the house lies in silence. I am eating my dinner in the dark With the lights on. It is the hight of COVID-19 pandemic It is said that 1 to 200,000 people Will die this week. My mother calls me twice. The first time I silence my phone. She leaves a message And calls again, So I answer it, I tell her I am busy. She tells me she is outside And has something for me. I walk out Into the unnaturally warm night. She is in her car Waiting in the driveway. She looks thin, I can see That she still hasn’t put on the weight That is natural and becoming To her body. I wonder if she has yet To seek treatment Or therapy. She hands me a cd Wrapped in paper towel And secured in a plastic sandwich bag. We are advised to not touch anyone Who does not live with us It could further spread the virus. I have not seen her in at least a year, But when she reaches out for a hug I embrace her As if she has not Abandoned us. I still have love for her. So When I follow you on Instagram I am sprouting a seed of forgiveness Because Being the bigger person Does not mean being bitter or stubborn It means being honest with yourself. And I still have love for you.

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Apr 10, 2020

Apr 10, 2020 at 2:28 AM UTC

I still have love for you

And I am told to just forget you Like I haven’t seen your soul The way you breath and live And How I didn’t show you Where I hide my scars And why I don’t cry. It is Thursday And my father tells me about My stepmother. Apparently she Has been using a pandemic To make my father feel inadequate Because she is a high school teacher My father never graduated high school And my little brother is now to be homeschooled. I tell him I can’t do it anymore That the negativity is too much That it sounds like he is making her problems His own. That it sounds like He is still in a relationship With her. If she is so insecure That she must use her profession To make-up for her ability to mother It is her problem And not something we need to address or deal with Because it is her problem Not ours. I tell my father That he has already divorced her That he is not in a relationship with her And need not hold on to her problems Like we have a stake in them. That evening My father is not present For dinner at 6:30, Which has become The custom time we eat dinner As a family. This tells me That what I said May have been all too accurate. I wonder if my step mother is right To criticize him Right to point out That he has some **** to deal with Before he can provide a stable home. I eat dinner alone At the dining table. The only light on in the house Is in the kitchen and my brother’s bedroom The rest of the house lies in silence. I am eating my dinner in the dark With the lights on. It is the hight of COVID-19 pandemic It is said that 1 to 200,000 people Will die this week. My mother calls me twice. The first time I silence my phone. She leaves a message And calls again, So I answer it, I tell her I am busy. She tells me she is outside And has something for me. I walk out Into the unnaturally warm night. She is in her car Waiting in the driveway. She looks thin, I can see That she still hasn’t put on the weight That is natural and becoming To her body. I wonder if she has yet To seek treatment Or therapy. She hands me a cd Wrapped in paper towel And secured in a plastic sandwich bag. We are advised to not touch anyone Who does not live with us It could further spread the virus. I have not seen her in at least a year, But when she reaches out for a hug I embrace her As if she has not Abandoned us. I still have love for her. So When I follow you on Instagram I am sprouting a seed of forgiveness Because Being the bigger person Does not mean being bitter or stubborn It means being honest with yourself. And I still have love for you.

101

It was fitting That it rained every day that summer The clouds hung low And pressed precipitation into the pavement The sun was shining and the streets were glistening The atmosphere came down to our level As though to say You are grounded The grass was green As though to say You are alive And the wind was calm As though to say You are still Mother Nature seemed to be taking maternity leave To nurture neglected nights Passed absent of distraction To water wandering willows Weeping empty wisdom The sky cried for us When we were too busy to pretend to be anything But grown Sunken clouds dirtied the horizon So we could forget that we were not clean Cumulonimbus occluded the sky So we did not have to worry about flying away Held tight our skin secured secrets Soothed violent visions Made our minds a bit more watered down. That summer something changed In the sharpness of the morning The sun was no longer a surprise Sleep became something I did at night My conversations with you Became something saved for the last sip Of a handle of *** And your name was replaced With him, you, the boy You were a dream I woke up from, I had been asleep Long enough. That summer it was spring It was the renaissance Torture was no longer the norm So I learned to stop loving you With my hands Holding fire love With paper palms Or maybe I was the fire And we were paper mache I still don’t know If I was the consumer or the consumed But on the back of a broken trail I learned to be neither Do no harm And take no **** Be as strong as an oak Move your home from volcano To valley And vacate the wrath of want That summer I learned to reconcile A child’s heart With adult problems I learned to raise my character With a self-esteem that said something With a throat that echoed more Than him, you, the boy That summer something changed And finally it was me.

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Sep 21, 2016

Sep 21, 2016 at 6:24 PM UTC

That summer something changed

It was fitting That it rained every day that summer The clouds hung low And pressed precipitation into the pavement The sun was shining and the streets were glistening The atmosphere came down to our level As though to say You are grounded The grass was green As though to say You are alive And the wind was calm As though to say You are still Mother Nature seemed to be taking maternity leave To nurture neglected nights Passed absent of distraction To water wandering willows Weeping empty wisdom The sky cried for us When we were too busy to pretend to be anything But grown Sunken clouds dirtied the horizon So we could forget that we were not clean Cumulonimbus occluded the sky So we did not have to worry about flying away Held tight our skin secured secrets Soothed violent visions Made our minds a bit more watered down. That summer something changed In the sharpness of the morning The sun was no longer a surprise Sleep became something I did at night My conversations with you Became something saved for the last sip Of a handle of *** And your name was replaced With him, you, the boy You were a dream I woke up from, I had been asleep Long enough. That summer it was spring It was the renaissance Torture was no longer the norm So I learned to stop loving you With my hands Holding fire love With paper palms Or maybe I was the fire And we were paper mache I still don’t know If I was the consumer or the consumed But on the back of a broken trail I learned to be neither Do no harm And take no **** Be as strong as an oak Move your home from volcano To valley And vacate the wrath of want That summer I learned to reconcile A child’s heart With adult problems I learned to raise my character With a self-esteem that said something With a throat that echoed more Than him, you, the boy That summer something changed And finally it was me.

71

Today I am your poet kindly, The wind has renamed my skin goose bumps I am not sorry, My words will not be Filling you with rage today, Making a display of what we know But are afraid to say. Today I am your poet softly, I know it may be costly To avoid an opportunity, But this is my cop-out poem Understand that I am mad as hell Am ****** the **** off I do have **** to strew But today my words are tired, Yesterday my pen was heavy with destruction I brought asteroids to earth Made malleable a boy's soul Yesterday my fists were swinging, hardened But today You won't find them beating glass ceilings. To my ex lover, You may breathe. I will not be selling your secrets today, To my family You may speak freely, I will not be bringing our living room To the stage today. Breathe while you can Become comfortable where you may There won't be another fair sailing time Such as today, I am your poet strategically, I will replenish the circles under my eyes Armies of literary devices will be trained today, Know that a sword was never made sharp Without steel first being made soft And when they know my kindness They will likewise know my anger When they know my exhaustion They will learn of my determination Creation determines destruction. Today I am your poet kindly, Drink your tea friend, Have a doughnut or two Today, you do not have to worry About my syntax exposing you But keep in mind How quiet preparation sounds, A storm may not announce itself Until it makes landfall.

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Feb 27, 2016

Feb 27, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC

Cop-Out Poem

Today I am your poet kindly, The wind has renamed my skin goose bumps I am not sorry, My words will not be Filling you with rage today, Making a display of what we know But are afraid to say. Today I am your poet softly, I know it may be costly To avoid an opportunity, But this is my cop-out poem Understand that I am mad as hell Am ****** the **** off I do have **** to strew But today my words are tired, Yesterday my pen was heavy with destruction I brought asteroids to earth Made malleable a boy's soul Yesterday my fists were swinging, hardened But today You won't find them beating glass ceilings. To my ex lover, You may breathe. I will not be selling your secrets today, To my family You may speak freely, I will not be bringing our living room To the stage today. Breathe while you can Become comfortable where you may There won't be another fair sailing time Such as today, I am your poet strategically, I will replenish the circles under my eyes Armies of literary devices will be trained today, Know that a sword was never made sharp Without steel first being made soft And when they know my kindness They will likewise know my anger When they know my exhaustion They will learn of my determination Creation determines destruction. Today I am your poet kindly, Drink your tea friend, Have a doughnut or two Today, you do not have to worry About my syntax exposing you But keep in mind How quiet preparation sounds, A storm may not announce itself Until it makes landfall.

51

Logic, That tired practice That keeps busy bodies satisfied Until they find love. Love, The only illogical action That anyone has been sure of That has made a mockery of reason. Reason, A cause for change There is no reason The Sun doesn’t ask the Earth For a repayment For the life it gives Such a lack of reason, Such a gift. To give, That which is a pure act Of provision Senseless and costly But what light What life is begotten By such a pure act Of honesty. Honesty, That which is raw, It is only honesty That is exempt from values A history that is the only constant. Consistency, The only thing you can predict When **** hits the fan What will withstand Who will out boast the highest bidder, What a patient power. Power, The only thing which can be truly stolen Yet you will always have it The beat in our chest May be silenced But the formation of mountains Will still shake your sepulcher. True power Deals in patience. Patience, A knowledge of And trust in What is larger than this The entropic force That will make relevant What is essential. Essentially, This is a love poem Whom it is for Only time will tell.

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Feb 19, 2016

Feb 19, 2016 at 5:44 PM UTC

What Does it Mean?

Logic, That tired practice That keeps busy bodies satisfied Until they find love. Love, The only illogical action That anyone has been sure of That has made a mockery of reason. Reason, A cause for change There is no reason The Sun doesn’t ask the Earth For a repayment For the life it gives Such a lack of reason, Such a gift. To give, That which is a pure act Of provision Senseless and costly But what light What life is begotten By such a pure act Of honesty. Honesty, That which is raw, It is only honesty That is exempt from values A history that is the only constant. Consistency, The only thing you can predict When **** hits the fan What will withstand Who will out boast the highest bidder, What a patient power. Power, The only thing which can be truly stolen Yet you will always have it The beat in our chest May be silenced But the formation of mountains Will still shake your sepulcher. True power Deals in patience. Patience, A knowledge of And trust in What is larger than this The entropic force That will make relevant What is essential. Essentially, This is a love poem Whom it is for Only time will tell.

55

When you fall in love Love wholly, Give him your afternoons, nights, mornings And even the time between them. When he speaks drink in his words How he fixes them to your ear, Let him dress you in a narrative of love. When you meet his family Always say thank you, Even for the simple things like water And listen when he speaks to his mother, How his love for her is irreplaceable. When you meet his friends Always laugh at their jokes They may be corny, But you will hear pieces of him in their conversations, Hear the passion in his voice When he complains of them He’s telling you what he values. When he holds your hand Hold his gaze Let him know you see him for who he is And keep your eyes sharp, That way you will always be the first one To see the stutter in his step. When he takes you to special places Breath deep, You may be the only boy Whose been this close to him So hold the atmosphere In your chest That way when his eyes run You will have the cardio to catch them. But don’t think you always have to run for him, When he lies to you Let him lie He may never have been caught before Let his words build him a shelter. When he ignores you Let your pain remind you of your vulnerability Time makes it too easy for us To become dependent. When you fight Don’t hold anything back Say what you mean, Be fair to yourself Never let your sentences end on eggshells. When he stops saying he loves you Love yourself, No one in the world could need your love More than you Let his silence Make you stronger Prouder to love you. When he leaves you, Try not to laugh Let his words reveal How false a shelter he has hid under Be brave enough to cry in front of him But be strong enough to walk away.

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Jan 18, 2016

Jan 18, 2016 at 4:36 AM UTC

Love

When you fall in love Love wholly, Give him your afternoons, nights, mornings And even the time between them. When he speaks drink in his words How he fixes them to your ear, Let him dress you in a narrative of love. When you meet his family Always say thank you, Even for the simple things like water And listen when he speaks to his mother, How his love for her is irreplaceable. When you meet his friends Always laugh at their jokes They may be corny, But you will hear pieces of him in their conversations, Hear the passion in his voice When he complains of them He’s telling you what he values. When he holds your hand Hold his gaze Let him know you see him for who he is And keep your eyes sharp, That way you will always be the first one To see the stutter in his step. When he takes you to special places Breath deep, You may be the only boy Whose been this close to him So hold the atmosphere In your chest That way when his eyes run You will have the cardio to catch them. But don’t think you always have to run for him, When he lies to you Let him lie He may never have been caught before Let his words build him a shelter. When he ignores you Let your pain remind you of your vulnerability Time makes it too easy for us To become dependent. When you fight Don’t hold anything back Say what you mean, Be fair to yourself Never let your sentences end on eggshells. When he stops saying he loves you Love yourself, No one in the world could need your love More than you Let his silence Make you stronger Prouder to love you. When he leaves you, Try not to laugh Let his words reveal How false a shelter he has hid under Be brave enough to cry in front of him But be strong enough to walk away.

60

To all the space heaters out there Your warmth is well appreciated, The walls, chairs, and windows thank you Winter nights are much cozier by your side And while a fire place is much more desirable There is something about a space heater that is beautifully honest, There aren’t any booms or blasts You know why you’re here And you’re dam good at your job. But I don’t know what to do with you My hands fear you Because I left my oven mitts with the last fire That was reliable as a fire work That burned uncontrollably Only to go out. But you and your steady hum You and your tenderness That warms a room before I even flick you on You’ve made your way into the beat of my drum My skips have a rhythm that is to the bone You keep me warm even when I’m alone. I realized that I unplugged you in the waxing summer But you persistent little thing you, You rhythmic beast You never turned off There wasn’t a cold moment Even when you left I was well supplied with fleece And fist fulls of fiery passion The humdy-dum continued on. August brought external fortification My walls are thicker Windows insulated and furnace much quicker Yet October knocked And I opened the door. I don’t need to These lungs have brought much more than a warm touch These hands have begun to create again I now forge my own cadence. But like a composure's proud piece of work Like a inversely synchronized symphony Your humdy-dum dances with my pitter pat I don’t need you, I want you And what could be warmer than that?

0

Nov 1, 2015

Nov 1, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC

Changing Seasons

To all the space heaters out there Your warmth is well appreciated, The walls, chairs, and windows thank you Winter nights are much cozier by your side And while a fire place is much more desirable There is something about a space heater that is beautifully honest, There aren’t any booms or blasts You know why you’re here And you’re dam good at your job. But I don’t know what to do with you My hands fear you Because I left my oven mitts with the last fire That was reliable as a fire work That burned uncontrollably Only to go out. But you and your steady hum You and your tenderness That warms a room before I even flick you on You’ve made your way into the beat of my drum My skips have a rhythm that is to the bone You keep me warm even when I’m alone. I realized that I unplugged you in the waxing summer But you persistent little thing you, You rhythmic beast You never turned off There wasn’t a cold moment Even when you left I was well supplied with fleece And fist fulls of fiery passion The humdy-dum continued on. August brought external fortification My walls are thicker Windows insulated and furnace much quicker Yet October knocked And I opened the door. I don’t need to These lungs have brought much more than a warm touch These hands have begun to create again I now forge my own cadence. But like a composure's proud piece of work Like a inversely synchronized symphony Your humdy-dum dances with my pitter pat I don’t need you, I want you And what could be warmer than that?

43

That house is burning Not because someone started it It just lost its purpose It has nothing better to do but be destroyed It is wiser that I and knows it must move on Ashes to ashes dust to dust If you stop using these machines they will rust Creek, crumble, and collapse Your very walls will betray your trust Slowly let leek Your words will no longer resonate But fumble and become meek And when these words can no longer support these Two by fours Slowly you will lose your doors Like smoke your thoughts will bellow out Clinging to the street They will hijack another’s feet And find themselves somewhere a bit more sweet Only fire will be left to fill you And you will engulf yourself Just to keep warm.

0

Sep 29, 2015

Sep 29, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC

Abandoned

That house is burning Not because someone started it It just lost its purpose It has nothing better to do but be destroyed It is wiser that I and knows it must move on Ashes to ashes dust to dust If you stop using these machines they will rust Creek, crumble, and collapse Your very walls will betray your trust Slowly let leek Your words will no longer resonate But fumble and become meek And when these words can no longer support these Two by fours Slowly you will lose your doors Like smoke your thoughts will bellow out Clinging to the street They will hijack another’s feet And find themselves somewhere a bit more sweet Only fire will be left to fill you And you will engulf yourself Just to keep warm.

22

And every week I read these sad poems To test if the bear is awake Every morning I am reminded Of his presence yet through the day He no longer seems to stay He is much more interested in honey Than harm And honey I am cradled back into his arms And I find peace in knowing what love is Because no amount of Cloths Or connections can create this The stars will never radiate such a power To know compassion that won’t wilt Like the pale pedal of a flower My heart grew so large that I got lost in it for 45 days And now all I can do is find myself Living the first promise I made you, If my love can last a month I will come back If a month cannot create another man If a month cowers Next to what we had If I can find you in this broken mirror, I will buy another, I will find deeper blues Brighter reds I will paint my heart in the center because I will know what it means to use it And I will share it with you If your face finds itself back in my space, In my field of vision Within the reach of my breath I will hold you That is all my hands know to do I will not pry pull or poke, This bear has learned how quickly the bees will sting, I will simply listen to the hum And remember how good it must be To feel the sun.

0

Sep 29, 2015

Sep 29, 2015 at 8:02 AM UTC

Honey Dew

And every week I read these sad poems To test if the bear is awake Every morning I am reminded Of his presence yet through the day He no longer seems to stay He is much more interested in honey Than harm And honey I am cradled back into his arms And I find peace in knowing what love is Because no amount of Cloths Or connections can create this The stars will never radiate such a power To know compassion that won’t wilt Like the pale pedal of a flower My heart grew so large that I got lost in it for 45 days And now all I can do is find myself Living the first promise I made you, If my love can last a month I will come back If a month cannot create another man If a month cowers Next to what we had If I can find you in this broken mirror, I will buy another, I will find deeper blues Brighter reds I will paint my heart in the center because I will know what it means to use it And I will share it with you If your face finds itself back in my space, In my field of vision Within the reach of my breath I will hold you That is all my hands know to do I will not pry pull or poke, This bear has learned how quickly the bees will sting, I will simply listen to the hum And remember how good it must be To feel the sun.

39