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 Jan 2016 Rose Davis
eli
it takes a village to raise a child:
to rub the rust from years of wear,
to teach him not to cower in the face of adversity
when the other boys come around with bats aimed at his limbs.
he must be led back to mother’s house;
she will take one look at his pouting lip, trembling gateway
to his muted mouth,
and she as well as the others will move mountains
to see him smile again, dimples and all.
perhaps he will not zip around the house as he used to,
as a young monkey swinging through the jungle;
but he will learn to find the forms of nebulae in his plum-bruises,
and he will learn that there is more to strength than a strong arm—
*there is more to fighting back than striking like a hammer.
an assignment from my current poetry class. we were given a list of words and had to use each of them in a poem at least once.
 Jan 2016 Rose Davis
Sia Jane
It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away

As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start

But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save

Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out

Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone

Work © Mike Hauser & © Sia Jane
Mike opened this piece and we went from there.
Hope you enjoy this Hello Poetry collaboration too :)

It goes without saying, just how honoured we are to have this as Daily <3
Y'all are the greatest <3
Thank you so much <3
 Jan 2016 Rose Davis
Tab
Blisters
 Jan 2016 Rose Davis
Tab
I have blisters on my feet
From chasing after your "I love you's"
I asked the doctor if I was experiencing phantom voice syndrome
She just shrugged her shoulders and said "kid you can't live in the past forever"
But every time I pass the skid marks on the interstate I swear I hear you screaming
Now I have blisters on my feet
Chasing the voice of a ghost
 Jan 2016 Rose Davis
Ayush B
The entire universe,
Adapted from your eyes,
Galaxies are made,
With a smile on your face,
Supernovas explode,
Every time a teardrop flowed,
Supermassive black hole,
That swallowed my soul,
Constellations became,
At the sound of your name,
You're stardust,
Recycled unparalleled,
Alas! every single day,
You're light years away.
 Jan 2016 Rose Davis
Ayush B
Forged in the furnace of stars,
That died a billion years ago,
We are remnants of those stars,
Staring back at ourselves,
Living on a floating piece of rock,
Around a giant ball of fire,
Casting a shadow on a white marble,
In nothing but infinity,
Thinking about our place in the universe,
And that thought is just fascinating
The intent is to make the reader wonder about how astonishingly the universe works. Something that helps me get up every morning.  Thought it was worth sharing
 Jan 2016 Rose Davis
honeybee
i. i wonder if the stars fight over who's the brightest.

the night sky is a canvas, covered in a million strokes. each shining star in this endless sky holds its own beauty in the masterpiece above us, thousands of miles away. without a single star, the constellations would not be the same shape. without a single star, the sky would not shine as bright.

dear, you are a star. you and i, we fit in this universe, shining brightly for all to see. even though we flicker at times, even though our light may become covered by clouds, we are still bright. we still add our own light to the night sky. without us, there would be no masterpiece. without us, the world would not be as bright.

ii. i wonder if birds mimic melodies to harmonize with others.

not every song must be a duet - a solo love song can be riveting, can be like an orchestra of sounds all encased in one single lover. the songbird can sing symphonies on its own, every note echoing throughout the forest finding its way into each animal's heart. music they whistle with honest notes are the songs that make a lover's heart soar.

dear, you are a songbird; you are a dove. every note you make with your voice is a song; every string of words you say are a poem. your song deserves to be heard, so make your voice louder, higher, stronger. do not hide behind the voice of others, for you are worth being heard.

iii. i wonder if roses grow thorns for a reason.*

they say every rose has its thorn, but they forget to mention that roses don't ask to be touched. the thorns are its warning message: it will harm you if you grab it. it is as if they're building a weapon, rewriting their genetic code to avoid being bothered. a sign to tell us to not hurt beautiful things, for they are armed with knives and sharp thorns.

dear, you can't expect people to just admire your beauty. a dog can understand no, but boys are worse than a dogs. if you keep acting like a daisy, you will keep getting your roots torn out from the ground, and boys will rip off your petals to try to find out what's inside of you. arm yourself, my love. roses need thorns to survive.

“dear, you are a star, you are a bird, you are a rose,” i tell her. “but most importantly, you are you, and you are important.”
 Jan 2016 Rose Davis
honeybee
yesterday,
i was the one
with firefly's wings
caught in their chest;
i was the sun
trying to shine
through opaque skin
and clouded smiles

tomorrow,
i'll be the one
with a smile
sickly sweet
it'll cause a
stomach ache;
i'll be the sun
so bright, it will
burn your skin

but today,
i am something
in between

today,
i am the sun
peeking through
rain clouds;
i am a chrysalis
hoping to turn into
something beautiful

today, i am me.

— The End —