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most days, I write. https://www.facebook.com/courtneyksnodgrass http://courtneyksnodgrass.tumblr.com/
27/F/Madrid
So surreal it must be real. Schizotypal girl trying to make sense of her life. courtneyolanzapinepoetry.tumblr.com. Buy my book "The summer of loose morals" in …
Indianapolis
Our lives are mere flashes of light in an infinitely empty universe... -Dominic Owen Mallary
Poems
Coleen Mzarriz
Oct 2020
Dear Courtney,
"My dress was soaked by the slippery wet road in Mayhem. I thought I was parading with the other women here. Yet, I escaped this hell of a home. I cannot wait to see you again. I am on train 25, and the bay is bluer than usual. The clock strikes 12 in the afternoon. The sky is breathtakingly painted on the canvas with the clouds' fur orbiting each other.
I sit here, while I cannot take my eyes off the greens. It is the first time in a while, but it has always been nostalgic with you here. The trees stand there, and the train moves at its monotonous pace. This time, I am thanking this train for its urgency. Maybe it wants us to see each other again. Just you wait, Courtney. Tomorrow, we will see each other again.
It's dawn, and the morning breakfast is here in front of me. It is a complete set. Just like what you like. Tea, toasted bread, egg, and tomato. Ah, I thought I saw you sleeping here beside me. Am I doing it again? Wait for me, dear friend, for I will see you now.
There the trees and the mountain face me. The scenery is telling me a story. A memory of you and me. Ah, dear friend, it is almost evening. I hope you're thinking of your friend here while you're taking a sip of your wine.
The train has stopped, and I am here now, Courtney. I hope this letter reaches you, dear friend."
"She's really a writer, huh?" The nurse said while she read me Cordelia's letter. I nodded and smiled.
"How was she?" I asked. The lump in my throat was so heavy that I could not breathe.
"She's resting peacefully in the bay of Mayhem, Courtney." The nurse then held my hand.
"Do you think she's happy?" I asked her.
"Hon, her eyes will give you life. Of course, she is." She kissed me on the forehead and pushed my wheelchair.
"You will have life again, Courtney. I will see you after the operation."
My dress was soaked by the slippery wet road in Mayhem. I thought I was parading with the other women here. Yet, I escaped this hell of a home. I cannot wait to see you again. I am on train 25, and the bay is bluer than usual. The clock strikes 12 in the afternoon. The sky is breathtakingly painted on the canvas with the clouds' fur orbiting each other.
"Thank you for your eyes," I whispered, and tears began to well up. The wind hustled, and the trees hurried to drop their leaves.
I took out my notebook and pen. I wrote how the scenery by the bay gave me comfort.
Cordelia, I hope this letter reaches you.
"My dress was soaked by the slippery wet road in Mayhem. I thought I was parading with the other women here. Yet, I escaped this hell of a home. I cannot wait to see you again. I am on train 25, and the bay is bluer than usual. The clock strikes 12 in the afternoon. The sky is breathtakingly painted on the canvas with the clouds' fur orbiting each other.
I sit here, while I cannot take my eyes off the greens. It is the first time in a while, but it has always been nostalgic with you here. The trees stand there, and the train moves at its monotonous pace. This time, I am thanking this train for its urgency. Maybe it wants us to see each other again. Just you wait, Courtney. Tomorrow, we will see each other again.
It's dawn, and the morning breakfast is here in front of me. It is a complete set. Just like what you like. Tea, toasted bread, egg, and tomato. Ah, I thought I saw you sleeping here beside me. Am I doing it again? Wait for me, dear friend, for I will see you now.
There the trees and the mountain face me. The scenery is telling me a story. A memory of you and me. Ah, dear friend, it is almost evening. I hope you're thinking of your friend here while you're taking a sip of your wine.
The train has stopped, and I am here now, Courtney. I hope this letter reaches you, dear friend."
"She's really a writer, huh?" The nurse said while she read me Cordelia's letter. I nodded and smiled.
"How was she?" I asked. The lump in my throat was so heavy that I could not breathe.
"She's resting peacefully in the bay of Mayhem, Courtney." The nurse then held my hand.
"Do you think she's happy?" I asked her.
"Hon, her eyes will give you life. Of course, she is." She kissed me on the forehead and pushed my wheelchair.
"You will have life again, Courtney. I will see you after the operation."
My dress was soaked by the slippery wet road in Mayhem. I thought I was parading with the other women here. Yet, I escaped this hell of a home. I cannot wait to see you again. I am on train 25, and the bay is bluer than usual. The clock strikes 12 in the afternoon. The sky is breathtakingly painted on the canvas with the clouds' fur orbiting each other.
"Thank you for your eyes," I whispered, and tears began to well up. The wind hustled, and the trees hurried to drop their leaves.
I took out my notebook and pen. I wrote how the scenery by the bay gave me comfort.
Cordelia, I hope this letter reaches you.
I hope this touches your soul. Have a great day/night
Tristan Taylor Mar 2018
Courtney
Tristan Taylor
Mar 2018
Courtney (A Prose Poem)
You know that ridiculously ******* who knows she's hot?
You know that chick that all those dudes fawn over?
You know that chick that might be a poster for making guys in traffic pull over?
I call her Courtney.
That chick who might either be popular and/or a ****?
The chick that not-so-casually shows that thong as she struts?
I call her Courtney.
She doesn’t hang with losers.
But yet she doesn’t respond to cat callers.
You know her?
She makes girls mad.
She makes boys want to smack that ***.
And she likes it.
Her ***** trap drives boys’ brains to the fritz.
And she likes it.
Am I the only one that sees it?
Do I have the ability to see the future?
She might be peaking, her ******* sending boys into a stupor,
But baby girl... You’re going to have haters.
All the other girls are going to catch up sooner rather than later.
In the meantime, Courtney, do you, boo-boo.
Keep showing off that body for them. I’m not gonna argue.
I’m just saying you are showing it off on a platter...
And somebody's going to take it...
You know that ridiculously ******* who knows she's hot?
You know that chick that all those dudes fawn over?
You know that chick that might be a poster for making guys in traffic pull over?
I call her Courtney.
That chick who might either be popular and/or a ****?
The chick that not-so-casually shows that thong as she struts?
I call her Courtney.
She doesn’t hang with losers.
But yet she doesn’t respond to cat callers.
You know her?
She makes girls mad.
She makes boys want to smack that ***.
And she likes it.
Her ***** trap drives boys’ brains to the fritz.
And she likes it.
Am I the only one that sees it?
Do I have the ability to see the future?
She might be peaking, her ******* sending boys into a stupor,
But baby girl... You’re going to have haters.
All the other girls are going to catch up sooner rather than later.
In the meantime, Courtney, do you, boo-boo.
Keep showing off that body for them. I’m not gonna argue.
I’m just saying you are showing it off on a platter...
And somebody's going to take it...
A poem about a popular school ****...
Sarah Treaster
Jun 2012
Courtney’s old subaru stuttered and stalled as she sat at the red light. The large blue duffle bag sat ominously on the leather seat beside her. She couldn’t look at it.
God, Luci. Why did you get yourself into trouble? Courtney’s mind was racing. Ridiculous. This is ridiculous. She ****** her head to look at the bag. It was bulging.
The bag was stained and dusty, ripped along the seams in some places. Courtney’s phone rang loudly. She jumped, and held onto the steering wheel with one hand and answered.
“Hello?”She was silent as the voice on the other end talked quickly. “No, I’m not there yet... yes, I’ve got it.. No, I haven’t touched it... Yes, sir. She’s very sorry... I know, sir. Yes I’’ll tell her.” She hung up. Her face was ghost white, her palms and forehead sweaty.
Many voices argued in her head. I shouldn’t be doing this for her. She broke the law. But Luci’s your sister! That doesn’t matter. She caused the whole family a lot of pain and money. And now I’M breaking the law. What the hell?!
She looked back over at the duffle bag. It sat staring at her accusingly. She turned away. Her car was getting awfully hot, so she rolled down the windows, letting air flow through. Checking her watch, she hiccuped with surprise. Her foot slammed down on the gas, her head pressed against her seat from the quick acceleration. Her car’s enging groaned with the speed, but she couldn’t slow down.
*******, Luci. I really hate you right now.
Suddenly, she saw flashing lights and heard a sharp wailing sound behind her. A police car pulled right up behind her, speeding along, signaling for her to pull over to the shoulder of the road. Courtney’s eyes were wide with fright, and her palms were sweating profusely, leaving stains on her steering wheel. Oh god oh god oh god oh god...Ohhhh my goddddd.
Courtney slammed on her breaks, pulling over. A man in uniform knocked on her window, and she rolled it down slowly. There was a loud noise from the passenger seat and Coutney’s world slowed as she saw the duffle bag fall to the floor of the car, the zipper breaking and the contents spilling onto the carpeted floor.
The policeman’s face was horrorstruck.
“Ma’am...” He stuttered. “I’m going to have to ask you to...step out of the car and put..put your hands on your head.”
God, Luci. Why did you get yourself into trouble? Courtney’s mind was racing. Ridiculous. This is ridiculous. She ****** her head to look at the bag. It was bulging.
The bag was stained and dusty, ripped along the seams in some places. Courtney’s phone rang loudly. She jumped, and held onto the steering wheel with one hand and answered.
“Hello?”She was silent as the voice on the other end talked quickly. “No, I’m not there yet... yes, I’ve got it.. No, I haven’t touched it... Yes, sir. She’s very sorry... I know, sir. Yes I’’ll tell her.” She hung up. Her face was ghost white, her palms and forehead sweaty.
Many voices argued in her head. I shouldn’t be doing this for her. She broke the law. But Luci’s your sister! That doesn’t matter. She caused the whole family a lot of pain and money. And now I’M breaking the law. What the hell?!
She looked back over at the duffle bag. It sat staring at her accusingly. She turned away. Her car was getting awfully hot, so she rolled down the windows, letting air flow through. Checking her watch, she hiccuped with surprise. Her foot slammed down on the gas, her head pressed against her seat from the quick acceleration. Her car’s enging groaned with the speed, but she couldn’t slow down.
*******, Luci. I really hate you right now.
Suddenly, she saw flashing lights and heard a sharp wailing sound behind her. A police car pulled right up behind her, speeding along, signaling for her to pull over to the shoulder of the road. Courtney’s eyes were wide with fright, and her palms were sweating profusely, leaving stains on her steering wheel. Oh god oh god oh god oh god...Ohhhh my goddddd.
Courtney slammed on her breaks, pulling over. A man in uniform knocked on her window, and she rolled it down slowly. There was a loud noise from the passenger seat and Coutney’s world slowed as she saw the duffle bag fall to the floor of the car, the zipper breaking and the contents spilling onto the carpeted floor.
The policeman’s face was horrorstruck.
“Ma’am...” He stuttered. “I’m going to have to ask you to...step out of the car and put..put your hands on your head.”