All around me
I hear sounds
My neighbor's radio blasting
The tv downstairs blaring
The kitten on chair purring
My knuckles cracking
My sisters bickering
The floor creaking
That slight ringing that is a constant in my ears
If I focus on what I hear enough

And to block it all out
I pull out my earbuds
And go to my hiding place

I think that when I’m older
I’ll think back to now
The happenings
Of a 14-year-old
And wish life was still just as simple

But for now
I can’t wait to be older
And it couldn’t come any sooner

For some reason
No matter the brilliant imagery
And the shiny diction
Poems always end up sounding
And feeling
Sad

If I write about
The glorious rays of sun
Like pure drops of gold
The days of summer
Hearing children's laughter
Splashes of the pool
Staying up late outside
Listening to the chorus of crickets
The taste of fruity popsicles
Stickiness from the giant slice
Of watermelon
I could go on and on

But as hard as I try
There is always a sadness
To whatever I read
To whatever I write
And I wonder why

Is it because they are memories?
Things we long for?
Unattainable dreams?
Even things we have now…
Are they tinted with what all the ifs?
I have not once read a poem
That made me feel happy
I haven’t written a poem
That has made me joyful
Sure some have made me laugh
Some have made me feel proud
I can relate to some
But I don’t think
A poem will ever make me happy.

What is it
about ice cream?

if only I could
give you everything
that you would need
to fly

fly away from here
to get somewhere
where you can be free
to be who you’ve always
longed to be

soaring on the wind
with your beautiful wings
you wouldn’t need anyone
or anything

I wish I could
break the chain that holds you
but that would mean
you wouldn’t come back to me

If I could go into my mind
Walk around
It would look like
A cute little bookshop
Old and rustic
Books overflowing on shelves
All containing the knowledge my mind holds
A few cobwebs
In high up places
Overstuffed chairs
Made for comfort
When I need it
I imagine an older lady
In charge of the store
Wise for my age
The thoughts of
An 80 year old
In a 14 year old's body
When I was younger
It was probably like the children's section
Pictures filled my mind
Giving me the imagination
To keep my innocence
For as long as I did
My mom would say
That a 36 year old
Ran the shop then
And I, the 7 year old
Was a common costumer

I wish I could
Just live in my mind
And not have to interact
With the outside world

Sometimes I like to think
The boys that I get infatuated with
Will visit my little bookstore
And search the shelves
While I hide in an overstuffed chair
And admire them from the distance

I could go on forever
With this metaphor
Of my mind
So I won’t

While those who read this
Get a quick glimpse
Into my bookshop
And if they look hard enough
They can see the dark haired girl
With a smattering of freckles
Sunk into a chair
With a book in hand
And a pen in the other
As she expands her knowledge
She finishes a book
And adds it to the shelf
Another day
Another adventure

Sometimes
I wish I could just sit
With a cup of hot cocoa
A book in hand
Draped in blankets
And watch the pink sunset out my window

Sometimes
I wish I could just stop everything
And take a nap
Whenever I wanted

Sometimes
I wish life was far more simple
Like it used to be

Sometimes
I wish I could freeze time
Or even time travel
To fix mistakes
To tell myself - why would you do that?!

Sometimes
I wish I could fly
Free like a bird
With no worries
But the next meal

Sometimes
I just wish
I could slow down
Put things on hold
And take a break
From life

I stand there
I can feel the bass
Thumping
As everyone is dancing
I stand there
With my arms feeling too long
Too big for my body
Embarrassed and uncomfortable
Something odd happens within
And a darkness bursts out
Of the light and cheery
That is always within me

And just like that
Goes my good mood

I look out the window
Into the yard
I see a fluffy Junco
Sitting comfortably on the fence

I see him look around
Then fly over to the feeders
I watch as he gets some seeds
Then goes back to the fence
He puffs back up
And then out of nowhere
A baby Junco
Crookedly and excited
Flies in
Sits next to his dad
And his dad feeds him
And then his dad is off again
To get more food
For his baby

Over the weeks
I watch the Goldfinches,
The Grosbeaks, the Finches,
The Doves, and
The Sparrows.
All gathering on the fence
With their families
To eat
And I am reminded
Of my family
Gathering around the dinner table
Everynight
Chattering, coming and going
But then I think
That those birds must have it far easier
Than we do
All they worry about is surviving
While we have discussions on
Politics, school, wars
Gossip, rumors, things of unimportance

That's when I think back
To my childhood dream
“I want to be a bird when I grow up”
Because they are worry free
Unlike me

Piping hot
Gooey and fluffy
Rolls of dough
Swirled
With sugar
Cinnamon
And butter
And on the top
Slowly oozing
Melting down the sides
Is glaze
Or frosting
Whichever
Is your cup of tea

This miraculous invention
Forever changing
Human life
As we know it
A cinnamon roll
The most amazing
And tasty
Thing known
To mankind

Or is it dead?*

Black which is not
The color of my soul
Black that is all things
Rough, hard and scary
Black is threats, is hurt,
Is wrong, is *****

Black is hard to get rid of
An annoying stain
That stays far too long
Eventually you give up
Because no matter how close
You are to pure white
The decisions
You wrote in black
Will always stain your mind
Even if it's a small dot
Moving back into your mind
Even if you never think of it
It's still there
Irreversible
Unchangeable

Black is rough
And tough
It's daunting
And evil
In its luring ways
Scaring you
Until you give in
To the decay

Black is cold
Black is solid
Black has no qualities
That anyone should want
Unless
You welcome
The destructive and penetrating
Emptiness
That could enter
Your soul

You stare
Willing it not to move
You stand there
Unblinking
Unflinching
But not unchanging
Eventually you’ll have to blink
And nothing will be the same
As it was before

Now the past is no more
The present won’t last for long
And the future is just as out of reach
As perhaps the moon

As I lay in the grass
Tall and short
Wispy blades
Shuddering in the wind
Waving back and forth
Some blades
Bent and folded
Where I lay on top
Eventually if I ever get up
Those bent blades
Will make a silhouette of me
At least until
They get their strength back

But that might not happen
Because as I lay there
In the summery green
I can feel the rays of the sun
Warm and comforting
They seep through my skin
Swirling and swimming
Slowly melting me
Like a pretty little creamsicle
That was left in the sun
Melting until
The orange and white
Meld together
To create something beautiful

I am like that
As I lay here in the sun
Melting, mixing and swirling
The vibrant colors of who I am
Rare are the spots of black
But mixed in
With the rainbow of my soul
It creates a calming picture
Filling in my form in the grass
Showing the hard and good
Of someone
The hard and good
That make us so beautiful

Then the colors
Start seeping into the ground
After only a few minutes
The blades of grass stand
You could hardly tell I was there
Until
I come back the next week
To my favorite spot
Underneath the tall willowy tree
Its leaves swaying
But before I sit down
I look to the other side
And see mounds of flowers
That hadn’t been there before
I climb the tree to look down
And see
The flowers creating a beautiful girl
Basking in the sunlight
Created by pure and simple
Happiness.

I zone out
Staring at the light
Everything becomes
A big bright blur
When suddenly
I wake up
And wonder
*What just happened?

I got three hours
Of sleep last night
And the one day
Something new
Or exciting happens
I’m too tired
So when I notice you
Starting to stare at me
From across the room
Watching you find ways
To touch me
Brushing my arm as you go by
Moving your knees
Back and forth
Until ours touch
But I was too tired
To think about you
All I could think about
Was my cozy bed
Waiting at home for me
And now
Writing this poem
I realize that maybe…
I should try to get more sleep

All scattered around
Some lined up
Some thrown around
Sandals and tennis shoes
Flats and flip-flops
Big shoes and tiny shoes
Showing the busy life
Of  family
Coming and going

In her room, she looked out the window
Seeing the evergreen tree swinging in the wind
The raindrops pelting the window
A few birds, swooping for cover
A little girl standing out in all the gray
Brown hair pulled into pigtails
Wearing bright yellow and red
With a blue polka-dot umbrella
Jumping in puddles
Not even using the umbrella
Unless she was trying to collect rain

Driving to a new state
A new home
Leaving friends
She watched as they drove through a puddle
The water collecting on her window
She imagined that little girl
Her pigtails drooping
Her umbrella dragging
As she walked through the muddy puddles

At school, daydreaming blankly
Looking out the window
As the teacher droned on
About fractions, and decimals
Equations and graphs
She imagined seeing herself
Jumping out the window
Into the puddle on the ground
Splashing water onto the grass and plants
She saw herself
Wearing her favorite yellow raincoat
With her shiny red boots
Her blue polka-dot umbrella
Filled with holes
That the water just ran through
Her hair up in pigtails
With her favorite pink bows

She saw herself as she used to be
Before school was hard
Before she moved
Before she got older
She wished she really could jump out that window
And relive those moments
Before she could dream any further
The teacher called her name
Yanking her out of her red rainboots
Leaving her pink bows laying in the mud
Sadness pulling at her eyes
As she was taken from her happy memories

I rarely talk to you
I try not to think about you
But when we’re in the same room
My eyes unwillingly
Drift to you
Then my thoughts
And once again I mentally hit myself
Saying
That can not happen again

I usually take for granted
All the things my mom does for me
The things she sacrifices
And goes without
So I can be happy
So I can have what she dosen’t
So my childhood would be better
Than hers

Instead of getting herself new clothes
She survives on the same ones
From years and years before
So I can have new wardrobe
Each new school year

She pays for activities
Afterschool fun and sports
That aren’t required
Aren’t needed but wanted
She drives me back and forth
Waiting for the day I could do it myself

Listening to my pointless stories
And putting up with my bad habits
Helping with decisions
And giving me wisdom
That I get annoyed with
But I know she just wants the best

This poem could go on
And on and on
About all the things
My mother does for me

I know not everyone is as lucky
As I am
With a mother who would do so much
Just to see me happy
And I will always be grateful
For everything she does for me
Because she loves me
And because of that
I love her

Wake up late
Miss part of school
Come home
Mom’s out of town
Dad’s on a run
Four younger siblings
To take care of
One needs a ride home
Running around at track
One is in a weird mood
Strange emotions
Of a fifth grader
One keeps asking
Where is dad
I told you little man
He just went on a run
The littlest
Complaining about
Having to get off the x-box
After playing for almost
Two hours
The new kitten
Running around the house
Constantly being watched
By the kids
And here I am
Wondering
What will tomorrow bring?

You stand there waiting
For someone to come
Or something
To take you away
You stand there secluded
Lost in your own little world
Thinking through the days behind
And ahead
Dreaming of what could be
Lost in a world
Of what if’s
And this could happen
Bad things
Good things
Anything you could come up with
Then you hear the sound
Of the bus getting closer
And your ripped out of your
Comfortable little world
And pulled back into reality.

As we all know
There are different kinds
Well meant
Trying to be helpful
Or
Just being plain rude

Some people don’t take
Any sort of criticism well
Good or bad
They ask for it
But don’t want to listen to it
They don’t want to believe it
So they fight it
And hurt you in the process
Make you feel guilty
Make you even more aware
Of what you say
And do
Knowing that people
Might be thinking harsh
Mean things
About you

There are different kinds
All the same
All different
Different sizes and colors
They make up parts of life

Soap bubbles
Cleaning, scrubbing
Washing dirt, grit
And all the bad
Away
Reflecting you
Your surroundings
In different colors
Different views

Word bubbles
Floating up from the heart
Trying to escape
Only a few make it
The rest
Broken inside
Choking you
Restricting you
Making you regret
Not opening your mouth
To let them out

The best kind of bubbles
Bubbles of laughter
Bubbles of joy
Bouncing out of your mouth
Tickling you until you let them out
The fun bubbles
That make that joy
Drawing the wand
Blowing the joy
Into the bubbles
Until they are ready
To go
And spread joy of their own

Bubbles reflect
Joy and sadness
The two polar opposites
That compliment each other
Completely
You cannot have one
Without the other
Sometimes the bubbles of joy
Will pop
Explode in your face
But you can take out your wand
And start all over again

Small, different hues of brown
Little black eyes and tiny pink feet
Junco
Eating the seeds on the ground
Inspiring something inside

The next day,
Clear tubes with red perches
Showed off the mix of seeds
Waiting for the first customer
Disappointed when nothing came

The next week,
Losing hope
Still looking, but not as often
Nothing, the one single Junco
Gone

Then that one day
There were two
Hopping off the fence
Onto those little red perches
Draining the tubes of the food
That had been waiting for them

Slowly but surely
More started coming
New birds
New numbers
Sparrows, finches, thrushes, doves

New feeders
New house

Getting the birds back
A new feeder
Filled with nectar
Waiting patiently
Now knowing it could take a while
And then

One day
Watching out the window
Hoping
That one just one might come
Then not one but three!

All in that one day!
Male and female Anna’s
Male Rufous
Zooming and glimmering
Light reflecting off gorgets
Creating the otherworldly hues
Of purple, red, green

In the days that followed
More feeders
More birds
More knowledge
Much more learned

A new hobby
A new love
That will continue
from that day on
Thanks
To that little
Junco

Like a puzzle
Frustrating, beautiful,
And in the end fulfilling
Finding the right words
The right thing to say
That helps you express
The way you want to be

Like a bestfriend
A confidant
Pouring your soul out
Because you can
Your fears
Your desires
Your problems
Your choices

Like a snowflake
Always new
Always different
Always unique
Not one is alike

Like a child’s dream;
An ice cream shop
So many choices
Too many choices
You want them all
You hate them all
You can’t have them all

Like a piece of art
Whether paint or clay
Different formats
Different colors
Different shapes
And different sizes

Like an orchestra
All different sounds
Coming together
To make one big,
Beautiful, enthralling
And emotional sound

Because poetry is poetry
Everything works
Everything fits
Nothing is wrong
Nothing is right
Just freedom
In words

Life is like a piece of gum
You unwrap a new piece,
Like a fresh start
You start chewing that piece,
Learning how to live

You can blow it,
Let it expand and expand
Until sometimes
It explodes in your face

It might be hard
To clean it off
Sticking everywhere
Making problems
It might take a while
But as you learn
You’ll get better
Through trials
Until the whole piece
Is back in your mouth

Sometimes the gum will get bland
You’ll get bored and sick
You’ll want something new
Something exciting
Something different

So you’ll spit out your gum
Wrap it in a wrapper
And toss it in the garbage
Where it will stay
So you don’t have to remember
Unless you want to

Then you’ll buy a new
And exciting pack of gum
An exciting flavor!
Maybe cinnamon, maybe fruit
Maybe even a mystery pack

Then you’ll start over
A new chapter
Filled with new tastes
And experiences
Like a fresh piece of gum

Every once in awhile
I can’t help
But feeling
Completely clueless

How do people see me
When I’m alone
What do I look like
Being asked to move
Knowing no one
Dosen’t help
As they all assume
I’m all alone

I feel clueless
When I don’t know what they’re saying
But I don’t ask for clarification
In fear of those patronizing looks and smiles

I am clueless
When it comes to the real world
I haven’t had enough experience
Perhaps I didn’t pay attention
When I really should have

I don’t understand
What people are going through
I don’t see the signs
That show
The fears and troubles
They are trying to fix
I just stand there
Blind
Thinking all is right
When all is wrong

I stand there
Thinking how great my life is
I don’t have big troubles
School, grades
Thats it

Still clueless
Still oblivious
I doubt I’ll learn.

meaningless things drifting in your mind
they don't matter
they can't change anything
they say
sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never harm me

thats not true
words hurt
through and through
they make you shrink
inside yourself
smaller and smaller
until there is nothing left
and nothing left for you to do

Pencil scratching words out
Silence
The sound of paper and lead connecting
Rustling
Frustration, not meaning what you write
Eraser comes out
The crumbler of words
Rubs across the unwanted
And now unsaid
Words that don’t let you speak your mind
Wipe the crumbled words away
Let them fly off the table
Land on the ground
Begin an adventure
That only crumbled words can
Rolling out into
Toiaywahds
Shifting
Changing
Fitting
Into what it means
What do I say
The crumbled words representing
Things you would never dare admit
imssoiuy
liveoouy
Unscrambling
Rearranging
Letting themselves free
I miss you
I love you
Brushing those haunting
Impacting, changing words away
Keeping yourself
Alone
Safe
lonely

Blue is cool.

   Soft blue waves,
         Caressing the sand
                   Saying it's going to be okay
                                                       -- Calming blue --
                                                                           Still water
                                                              Slight ripples,
                             Causing the water to live

                                                       Blue is not heated.

                                                        Ice cold glaciers,
                                                           Hard as rock
                                                                Slowly melting
                                                         -- Hard blue --
                                                                        Changing ice
                                                                                  Softening heart,
                                                                                           Making the calm blue

                     Blue is understanding, forgiving, and slowing down.

Red is a paradox

                                                    Red can be hate
                                                 Blood boiling anger
                                              Fist fights and beatings
                                                Rumors and gossip
                                      Red like fall leaves falling away
                                         From the tree - their family
                                   From the other leaves - their friends

Red the color of a hot temperature

                                                   Red can be love
                                                Pretty little blushes
                                             Passion and friendship
                                     Beating hearts and broken hearts
                                         Red like a rose symbolizing
                                         Thorns - the hard struggles
                                 The petals - the good and wonderful
Red is bold.
.

You moved in, family friends with mine
Siblings friends with yours
Yet you’re still unknown

I watched you, trying to understand you
Never really talking to you
Just observing, still learning

Interacting around you
Seeing how you act
Different environments
Different people

Quiet, not shy
Funny, but reserved
Unsocial, but not mean

Watching you from across the room
Waiting for you to notice me
Watching you when you finally do

Teasing you but not really flirting
Unspoken discussions
Eyes meeting and agreeing
When our friends say absurd things

Sitting right by each other
Still not really talking
Knowing you, who you are
But you’re still unknown

cute but comfy clothes
funny and sensitive
biking and acting
birds and more birds
orange juice
warmed-up Peeps
listening to music in the shower
classical music
jazz and
everything else
but country
a stress reader
avid ice cream eater
Odwalla lover
rain and sun
regency romance
Climate Change worrier
pen addict
a listening ear
logical and reasonable
silver linings
me -- through poetry

Green crooked straws
******* water from the ground
Supplying the leaves
The thorns
The petals
Helpful and delicate

The thorns
Taking
Not supplying
Anything
But blood
No beauty
Just pain

The petals
The flower
Beautiful
Colorful
Fragrant
The reason for the stem
For the thorns

The thorns protect
The stem provides
The flower blooms
Then the flower dies

The thorns once again
Useless
The stem
Preserving
Until the thorn’s time
Comes again

Cars driving
Trucks going
Ice melting

Factories making
Workers working
Ice melting

Stars living
Poor dying
Ice melting

Science arguing
God watching
Ice melting

Students learning
Teachers talking
Ice melting

World arguing
States fighting
Ice melting

One teen
Wishing
To help
But not knowing how
In this world of exhaustion
So
Ice keeps melting

embarrassed
uncomfortable
solitude
withdrawn
apart
empty
secluded­
excluded
reclusive
Isolated
deserted
different
strange
peculiar
­unliked
alone