Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
It took time to rewrite my past
in a way that looked pretty on a page
but everything-
just eventually
turned
   uncomfortable.

It feels
like i'm always
wearing wet clothes,
sulking because I tried to drown
these memories I didn't want at the surface.

But I needed air-
so they came to catch it with me.
They demanded a home inside of my world
  and so they put me under.

Now I'm clawing my way to oxygen
but this doesn't feel like
  just water anymore
  more sheet metal than surface.

Every move made
by anyone-
  myself included
feels like a weight.  

I keep fighting my way
to sanity and
I keep fighting
  to remove this memory.

but it says with me
and it screams
every time you touch me.

How will I ever be okay
with comfort?

How do I cope
with something
so adamant about
keeping me under.

These dark images
invade the back of my head.

It's not my fault
someone
  took away my childhood.

So why am I the one-
drowning?
 May 2017 Hannah Rose
Traveler
The dogs can't seem
To hear the hum
A sound as if
Machinery runs
Beneath the ground
Maybe in the air
Secret compounds
Are being prepared
Facilities of alien races
Reptilian beings with
Human-masked faces
Government founded
And set abroad
Are we really safe
In our resolve

Tall white beings
Area 51
Can't you feel it
You're being pulled
Beneath the sub-spectrum
You have in part
Already succumbed
...
Traveler Tim
 May 2017 Hannah Rose
Astraea
Every one drawn with care
Fingers laboriously gripping pen
Every etch made under an intense stare
Pen meticulously scratching paper
Every one is an emotion laid bare
Paper carefully folded and kept
A secretive smile flitting across my lips
 Apr 2017 Hannah Rose
Ryan Hodges
Make a mountain of math homework
seem merely a molehill.
Lay down the laws
of long division.

Teach yoga when we yawned,
sing loud when we slept.
Become a fellow fourth grader;
be the class clown.

Tie severed friendships
broken on the playground;
add new knots.
Be the judge,
but appoint us as jury.

Ease my fears
as the sky grew dark.
Let us listen to the radio
as New York burned.

Dare us to dig deeper, illuminate
our minds. Respect
our voices, accept our flaws.
And above all else,

let us teach her.



-With apologies to Elizabeth Homes
This is a poem written as a copy-change of Elizabeth Holme's poem of the same name.  It is dedicated to my 4th grade teacher.
Chewie hasn’t touched his food
I hope he’ll be o.k..
It hasn’t been the same for him
Since Leia passed away.

He’s a melancholy Wookie
as anyone can see.
He mopes around the ship all day
And he’s molting terribly

Twas bad enough when Obi-wan
was struck down by Darth Vader.
But it’s no surprise when an old man dies
That’s expected, now or later.

Our Princess was a force you see
Bringing gales of laughter
which is why we want her here
and not in the hereafter.

He’s a melancholy Wookie
as anyone can see.
He mopes around the ship all day
And he’s molting terribly.


I hope one day we’ll meet again
In Mos Eisley’s Cantina
That gold bikini may not fit
But we’d still be glad to see her.
Carrie Fisher requested that Harrison Ford sing at her memorial Oscar nod.  She suggested he sing "Melancholy Wookie" so i took the liberty of writing his song
everything about me is sick.
maybe in the rad way i used to be,
or maybe i'm just ill.

there are worse things.
my body could turn on me
while my mind is going sour.

(my soul is rotting you can smell it on my breath.)

my eyes are always open
and life-
it isn't sweet enough.

sweat drips down my spine
and i shiver while someone
whispers hallelujah in the silence.

(i'm sorry but i am no longer a green girl. my leaves are turning brown.)

albert kamus is this
absurd enough for you:
loving and loving, running dry?

everyone says i'm not a waste
of the space
i've been occupying

but i dare not occupy yours.
you are too clean,
and god, am i sick.
please don't worry i'm doing just fine.
Next page