Giovanna: Favorites

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Skye Applebome

In my head
Creativity runs undeterred
Fireworks of words explode
Entire universes collide
But this is all in my head.
Because to get
From the brain
to the hand
to the pen
to the paper
Some things are missed.
Because poetry is a game of telephone
And things are lost in translation.

Jun 2013 Giovanna

no name #19

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Lyra Brown

no name #19

In one year we went
from being two planets
that revolved around each other to
one trick question written in braille on a blank page.
Only one of us could not see.

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Like Some Kind of Madness

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Artemesia Blastside

Like Some Kind of Madness

Sometimes I wonder.
I feel I'm going
two kinds of crazy.

the first is
ordinary madness

the second is
extraordinary insanity.

Yet somehow, they mix into a great fog.
Impenetrable.

They'll say, She's come undone.
Slowly unraveled,
like an old knit sweater
each thread floating up
to dissolve in the sky
or is it the sea? one's just a bit wetter

It happened slowly.
Such a shame.
Like the frog that was boiled;
she hopped out a bit too late.
one word at a time
slipped from her grasp
like that one tiny eggshell taunting
"TORO! TORO!"
can't grab a word by its horns.

I ad lib, substituting a synonym.

I snap out of the sky(ocean)
regrounding myself.

The madness is perhaps early Alzheimer's.
I'm too young to grow old.

The insanity feels more like I'm trapped
but outside my head.
A balloon a careless child let go of.
I drift
dream.
wonder.
unraveling
continuously.

I think my problem is that
I don't believe in reality anymore.

How do I know England exists?
How do I know we landed on the moon?
How do I know that my friend is real?
How do I know I'm not dreaming?
How do I know I'm not someone else's dream?

Once you think about it-
you realize
You don't know - and you can't prove-
Anything

I suppose that's why I believe in God.
He grounds me.

Nothing else makes sense.

Thanks to Muse for the title.

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Lost

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Susan O'Reilly

Lost

Hugging my pillow

it smells of you

wilting like a willow

I’m lost without you

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Him.

Jun 2013 Giovanna

liah

Him.

he's so unsure
in the most self assured way

he has eyes like the sea
before a storm
a combination of
       blue
   and
green
so remarkable
that you want nothing but
to have them look
into yours
the very same way

and his laugh is
a sound that should be
boxed up
and put away
to be accessed at a
moments notice
to be cherished
--always
every single time it
stumbles out
of his diaphragm

his face is
familiar
in the way of a childhood comfort
that you never want
to un-see

a mix of joy and nostalgia
that you want to relive
everyday

he has a way about him
like
he could break at
one crooked word
yet
he's strong enough
to carry
the whole world around
on his shoulders

he's unerasable
but you wouldn't
even want to erase him
if you had the chance
--he's perfect

he'd carry around all your burdens with you
and bottle up your laughs
and document every three A.M. conversation

you constantly just want to
be with him
because that's where you're okay

and you want to tell him
you want him
to know
but
he probably wouldn't want that
and in all likelihood
he would disappear
and that
would be like
trying to breathe
           under
                    water

- l. m.

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Look

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Zoë Westbrooke

Look

Like.
Is when your heart races.
Like a comet across the night sky.
It mirrors the fire of your passion,
And the ice of lonely fear.

Lust.
Is when your thoughts,
Like ***** smoke wind through lungs,
Mirroring your desire to devour.

Adore.
Is when little touches stop you in a thought.
Fingers intertwined,
Mirror the fingers of feelings,
Wrapping slowly around a heart that is scared.

Love.
Is when the blank slate of future,
Like a canvas stretched taut,
Mirrors the ache of your stolen heart.

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Stuck

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Tess Michelle

Stuck

I can't tell if everyone else around me is normal
Or if I'm stuck in my own mind
Everyone makes a big deal about grades,
                                                 The things people say,
                                                 If you're in an advanced class.
But nobody takes the time to notice the small movements of people
        What makes them happy,
        How their eyes look when they laugh.
People only care about what you can do and what you can be
Everyone else is a brick. A grey, dull brick. Manufactured to think that if you don't do good in school, your life will be miserable.
Your life may only be miserable when you work too hard and don't find time to experience the great things
        Late night runs to a local diner,
        The comfort of a good hug,
        Getting lost in books,
        Or getting caught in rain.
I'm not sure if everything is beautiful or if it's just the way I see it. Either way, I am in love with life.

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Struggling

Jun 2013 Giovanna

Skye Applebome

Struggling

I am struggling to get the words out
They are starting to feel empty, and forced

Poetry shouldn't be like that.

Poetry should be as natural as breathing
As flowing as air currents

It should pour out with power, with purpose
Unrefined, but beautiful
Not in spite of it, but because of it.

And that is getting difficult to do.

I might end up taking a break from writing, but I hope I don't have to.