Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Chloe Jackson Apr 12
We are told the world is so big,
With immeasurable opportunity and heedless hope.
But it's not, its so small;
It's so so small.
It's the house in your street,
The school where you learn.
It's the tree - the one you grew up playing around,
And the off-road trails that hold memories you'll never forget.
It's the cobblestoned streets and your mother's arms;
It's your city and you'll never truly leave.
Chloe Jackson Apr 11
When we first spoke
I felt anew
Beneath your eyes
A wild garden grew

With lillies and roses
All blue and all bright
With glitter and gleam
Like a fairy or sprite

Your laugh and smile
Ignite a fire
That illuminates and glows
And sparks desire

With flames and embers
And heat so warm
I burn when you look at me
I weather your storm

Although time can be
A cruel old friend
Ill never forget to love you
Ill love you until i forget myself
Chloe Jackson Apr 10
You
I bare my soul in your embrace.

Each velvet kiss or fingertip,

That brush against my porcelain self;

Cause colour and light to ignite my veins and flowers to grow under my skin.
It's all just numbers, isn't it?
Day by day,
Year by year,
Always counting.

Day by day look at the number on the scales.
Let the caloric calculator count until your head is filled with numbers.

Minute by minute count the seconds it takes for him to text you back.
Let the doubt and fear multiply until your head is full of him.

Term by term let a percentage on a piece of paper define your worth.

Don't we have better things to do than count?
Chloe Jackson Sep 2016
What is love?

Sweet nectar on poisoned lips;
Or ripened fruit on curious tongues.

Is love sealed with a righteous kiss;
Or is love selfish and stealing,
Hidden away for all to miss.

Does love see no bounds or limitations?
In awe of you; of your beauty.
Is love a relentless invasion?
On a four horsed chariot poisoned with cruelty.

Will love die for you; with you,
Take your last embrace.
Or will love trick you; take you,
To end the long, lonely chase.

When all is said and all is done;
pomegranate and poison are both written in fame;
Sweet and bitter,
But love all the same.
I feel the connections are fairly obvious but incase you dont know this poem is referencing to Romeo and Juliet and the mythology of Hades and Persephone.
Chloe Jackson Sep 2016
The girl gazed into the vast, velvet darkness.
Tiny bulbs burning softly just for her
Stare back.

She wishes upon the glittering sky,
To watch from above;
To twinkle not die.

The sky replied,
To the foolish, dreaming girl;

"Even we, the stars, beautiful and sublime
Fall to join your dance.
The mortal dance of frailty and time."

"We stars dont dream,
Nor fall in love.
We burn and watch
And guide from above."

"The heaven you worship
Is empty not here.
But the earth at your feet
Is breathing sincere."

"So even your lives,
Small, fleeting and bright.
Spark more fire
Than stardust in the pale moonlight."
Chloe Jackson Sep 2016
Welcome to the century of diet pills and hospital bills;
Of diet coke and menthol smoke;
Of thigh gaps and what?

Of girls throwing a mask of bones over themselves;
Disguising themselves,
Hiding every inch of skin from prying eyes and lighthearted lies of 'you dont need to lose any weight;
but doesn't your sister look real good staring at her plate,
And your moms diet seems to have gone really good;
Tell me, does she even eat any food?'

So when I started shrinking I didn't know who to blame.
But right now in the body society rejects I can't find an inch of me that is not ashamed .

Of how my ideas of perfection have been poisoned from the minute I was born.

Growing up I've watched my sister evaporate,
Picking up habits at the dinner table
My eyes fixate;
On every mouthful she lets past her hungry lips.
Counting every glass of water, counting every sip.

Tell me why,
Why girls of our generation think worth is calculated in pounds and inches
Or why empty stomachs and shaking palms are somehow congratulated.
Why our collar bones turn into competitions nobody ever wins.

Welcome to the century of starving girls
Of pretty, starving girls.
Of pretty, dying girls.
This was my first shot at writing a slam poem or any poem at all really.
Ive struggled with Anorexia for over three years now and when going through treatment you finally see how not only the media but how your family have poisoned your expectations of what you are 'supposed' to look like.
That is basically what this poem is about.
Enjoy.

— The End —