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Nov 2019 · 161
Blocks
Grace Haak Nov 2019
I see it all in blocks
Squares of memory mosaics
Pasted in a frame
Each one containing its own name
I see a friend in teal sequins
Hibiscus on her wrist
I see an ocean, blue, wide, and deep
Half-hidden by a mist
I see a wall of bubblegum
A friend to carry on my back
I see a dome of glittering gold
Dust shimmering from the crack
In my blocks I see it all
Memories so carefree
I keep them pasted on the wall
Forever they'll remind me
of late nights
of party dresses
of beach trips
of brothers
of pretty sights
of pumpkin messes
of lemonade sips
of my mother
The photos will fade
And the blocks will fall down
But the mosaic remains
Each with a proper noun.
Nov 2019 · 232
she is
Grace Haak Nov 2019
she is put together
twenty-four seven
breath of peppermint
perfume of floral heaven
she is perfectly mannered
exceptionally kind
you'd never notice
everything else on her mind
she is incredibly smart
her words are so witty
tied off with a ribbon
just to make them look pretty
she is never not smiling
all happy-go-lucky
the best mask to put out
when her days are just sucky
she is friendly to all
personality of bubbles
the kind of person who wants
you to forget all your troubles

but she is more than just
a tin of altoids always on hand
a spritz of marc jacobs to make her smell grand
a perfectly proper dollop of grace
an unworried smile on an unconcerned face
a paper fine-tuned and turned in on time
a colorful poem with many-hued rhymes

she is constantly tired
a string ball of stress
sometimes she can't be bothered
so today her hair is a mess
she is sometimes unhappy
sometimes stuck in the pain
so being silent and distant
might help keep her sane
she is incredibly stubborn
needs to have the last line
born with a hard nose
she refuses to resign
she is not so perfect
she will constantly fail
but if there's one thing she is
it's someone who will prevail

yes, she is a can of la croix
and all things filled with joy
but silver packages all wrapped
can keep treasures trapped
so take her as she is
all the sour and sweet
because without all these things
she wouldn't be complete.
Oct 2019 · 574
My Fondest Memories
Grace Haak Oct 2019
My dad and I would spend sunny afternoons
riding our bicycles
through my suburban neighborhood.
We would ride down my street
until we reached the sidewalk that diverged into two paths
and neither of them were less traveled by
as we always ended up taking both.
The right path leads to the small waterfalls
just past the basketball court
where my brothers and their friends
would play pick-up games.
Riding across the tiny bridges is a moment of brief bliss
as the sounds of the water rushing reaches your ears
and drowns out everything else.
We’d maneuver to the giant lake
filled with brightly colored kois
and serene storks standing out on the rocks.
Following the curve of the water
we would end up in a private neighborhood
where the blacktop is so shiny and smooth
that your wheels glide across the entire street.
And you can go fast
since it’s silent
and no cars come barreling down the road.
Somehow, we’d end up at that beginning sidewalk
and now it’s time to go to the left.
Over here, there’s a small playground
where my dad would chase my siblings and me
and I would hide in the tube of the slide.
We could spend hours there
on our spaceship
trying to outsmart Darth Vader and the dark side.
Just past the park, we’d reach the stretches of green belts
lacing their way through the streets
and the bushes I flew into
when first learning how to ride my bicycle.
We'd take a left after the dip in the sidewalk
ending up back on our street
and deciding that it’s getting late
once the sky turns pink and orange.
We’d end up back at the cookie-cutter house
that I don’t live in anymore
but part of it is still mine.
I wonder if the kitchen is still red
and if the guest bathroom still smells like lemons.
I contemplate knocking
only to remember that there’s a new family living there
making memories in our pool
and playing in the basement.
I smile, hoping that maybe
they will ride the same sidewalks I grew up on.
I paste these memories into a poem
but there is really no need
because remembering the twists and turns
of my old neighborhood
is just like riding a bike.
Oct 2019 · 459
what i want
Grace Haak Oct 2019
i want to shower you in sugar
and unleash the spate of syrup
but that might be too strong
i want to give you candied comments
and reveal all my honeyed hopes
but i'm afraid that could be wrong
i have all these citrus suckers
and balmy butterscotch
and treacly truffles
i would give them all to you
but i don't want you to get sick
of me and all my candy
Oct 2019 · 682
crumble cake
Grace Haak Oct 2019
cinnamon sugar
your hands mash the crumble cake
warmth fills the kitchen
Sep 2019 · 935
a teaspoon
Grace Haak Sep 2019
hot butter strolls down my face
and rolls down my nose
dribbles down my chin
and spatters the floor
the lustrous linoleum

i cry tears of sugar
it tastes much too sweet
as they mix with my thoughts
and pour into the cracked bowl
the jaded green memory

my hands are matted with white
and caked with delight
but it's a less-than-pleasant mess
i've used too much
it called for just a teaspoon
Sep 2019 · 376
Anyone?
Grace Haak Sep 2019
I'm floating and falling
And sinking and sailing
Can anyone save me?
Prevent me from flailing?

I'm shooting and missing
And running and tripping
Can anyone help me?
Stop my feet from slipping?

I'm wishing and hoping
And wanting and praying
Can anyone see me?
Hear the words I'm saying?
Grace Haak Sep 2019
i sit there and wait
until you get up and leave
kitchen is now safe
Sep 2019 · 370
Same Page?
Grace Haak Sep 2019
Your words put out my passionate fire
You ignore my calls of lust
Your breath ***** in all thoughts of desire
And I'm left breathing in our love of dust.
I used to think you felt the same
But the dust now hardens to rock
Now I'm a broken, burning flame
And time is ticking on the clock.
You write me letters of your love
But it's full of lime and sour
I pray to heaven's hope above
That we can last just another hour.
But time is up, and so are we
The fire has reduced to ash
The smoke has cleared and it's easy to see
That you left me with an incurable ****.
Sep 2019 · 301
s h a t t e r
Grace Haak Sep 2019
back then when you broke my heart

i cracked and shattered and fell apart

but i should have known right from the start

'cause i'm a mess and you're a work of art.
Sep 2019 · 545
INCANDESCENT
Grace Haak Sep 2019
OUR WORDS WILL RUSH WITH LIQUID LIGHT
A SILVER STREAM THAT SMOLDERS NIGHT
Sep 2019 · 384
To live
Grace Haak Sep 2019
Live on.
And find ways to crack
                                         the
                                              dawn.
Grace Haak Sep 2019
it's white
so pure
so fresh
so clean
so tell me why the red that flows
looks like a scar, so mean?
it's sparkly
so fluffy
so new
so light
so tell me why the red that flows
looks just like blood, so bright?
it's racing and racing
and flowing and falling
leaves a scrape and a streak
as it runs down the peak
a strange sled of red
down a white snowy head
Sep 2019 · 383
I am Bored Poem
Grace Haak Sep 2019
Type type type
Delete delete delete
Why all of a sudden is writing now a feat?
“Just write what comes to mind!”
But my mind’s wiped clean
Like the blank white page on my laptop screen
Nothing flows, nothing spills
Tauntingly the cursor blinks
I’m certain I’ve forgotten how to think
Nothing circulates, nothing pours
Hauntingly my fingers tap
I’m certain I’m about ready for a nap
Nothing runs, nothing spews
Dauntingly I press some keys
I’m certain I’ll never be at ease
I type type type
I’m finally overcoming my feat!
But I read it back, one word at a time
And now we’re back to
Delete delete delete.
me @ my college essay...
Sep 2019 · 437
cloaked choke
Grace Haak Sep 2019
Shadows grip our tongues in fear
Stopping us from spilling words they might not wish to hear
They choke us with their invisible hands
Stopping us from unflinchingly taking the stand
They stare into our souls with veiled eyes
A vaporous possession from ghosts in disguise.
A poem written around Halloween...The imagery seemed fitting.
Sep 2019 · 409
My Silver Night
Grace Haak Sep 2019
Head of a silver spoon hanging in the sky
Reaching down into the midnight cloud bowl
Scooping up spiced stars scattered in a soup
Sep 2019 · 534
mess
Grace Haak Sep 2019
love is patient
love is kind
but love can really
mess up your mind.
Sep 2019 · 348
Wondering
Grace Haak Sep 2019
Eyes so blue
An impossible hue
I wonder what it would be like
To sit down and paint you.
Shining auburn hair
Wait! Go stand over there
The light reflects your eyes
With their penetrating stare.
Skin so tan
Sweat glistening when you ran
Sunlight, please stay
If you can.
Smile so bright
I could capture it at night
Because it gleams all the time
With a white blinding light.
Perfect and exhausting in every way
These thoughts ruin me every single day
I wonder, I wonder,
If you knew, what would you say?
Sep 2019 · 441
sharp
Grace Haak Sep 2019
she
       was
              sharper
                            than
                                    shards
                                                of
                                                    icicle
                                                             glass
Sep 2019 · 372
Midnight Barrage
Grace Haak Sep 2019
God
It's almost one AM
And I'm still thinking of you
And how your hands touched me
Like my body was a land to explore
Cliché dreams gone to waste
But I still endlessly loved you.
God
It's almost two AM
And I'm still thinking of you
And how your lips tasted
Like the leftover cheap whiskey
Cliché dreams dwindled to dust
But I still carelessly loved you.
God
It's almost three AM
And I'm still thinking of you
And how your eyes sparkled
Like icy oceans meeting deep seas
Cliché dreams faded to grey
But I still senselessly loved you.
God
It's almost four AM
And I'm still thinking of you
And how your voice sounded
Like rasp and rough melodies
Cliché dreams turned to nothing
But I still mindlessly loved you.
God
It's almost five AM
And I'm still thinking of you
And how your body smelled
Like stale ***** and strawberry wine
Cliché disappeared to air
But I still hopelessly loved you.
God
It's not six AM
And I'm tired of thinking of you
And how you made me feel
Like a powerless, punch-drunk fool
Cliché dreams I won't hold on to anymore
Since I've learned to stop loving you.
Sep 2019 · 735
LAVA LOVE
Grace Haak Sep 2019
OUR LOVE WAS LIKE SCATTERED SPARKS
THAT LIT UP LIKE LAVA LIGHT
BUT EVEN VOLCANOES OF PASSION DIE
AND I'M LEFT WITH STARLESS ASHES
THAT REMIND ME OF A LAVA LOVE
THAT ONCE ENGULFED THE NIGHT IN FLAMES
Sep 2019 · 990
little bit of sugar
Grace Haak Sep 2019
sugar lips
kiss me twice
got me thinking
this boy is nice
bubblegum pink
blow my bubble
got me thinking
this boy is trouble
candy coating
see it in your eyes
got me thinking
this boy's told lies
but you're so sweet
cure all my cravings
got me thinking
it's a love worth saving
no chocolate swirl
no caramel chew
i'm not addicted to sugar
unless it's you.
Sep 2019 · 206
EMPTY
Grace Haak Sep 2019
Because we walk
This empty earth
Our shoes kick up
Dust from times ago
When children laughed
And everyone smiled
And the sidewalks were worn
From the dancing feet
Springing Swaying Twirling Tapping
And no one was harmed
And peace was a blanket
Safely protecting us all.
But the time comes
When someone disagrees
And the fires blaze
And the cities collapse
And the dreams crumble.
The time comes
When children scream
And everyone runs
And the sidewalks are worn
From the frightened feet
Exploding Erupting Sprinting Screaming
And everyone was harmed.
And chaos was a shadow
Violently swallowing us all.
Sep 2019 · 374
Drip Drop
Grace Haak Sep 2019
Drip
Drop
The golden sun
A burning coin
A flaming pendant
A sun of god
Painted bright
Bleeding into the sky
Sinking down
I watch it die.
Sep 2019 · 336
UNORTHODOX
Grace Haak Sep 2019
She was a warm summer night
Nothing could compare
To the tints and shades in the clouds
Like the streaks of color in her hair.
She was as serene as a sunset
Nobody knew why
She bled words of poetry
Like the colors that bleed into the sky.
She was a beaming gleam of light
None knew what to say
About the sunshine in her veins
Like the end of a golden day.

— The End —