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Emma Liang  Mar 2012
floor burns
Emma Liang Mar 2012
I bounce a volleyball as I walk to my dorm
just to hear that delightful sound, that satisfying, clean thud off the cement.

look up, see you in that grey hoodie that gives me bad dreams
and curse under my breath, eyes darting like a cornered fox,
            there is nowhere to hide.
we almost exchange eye contact, I almost taste blood in my mouth
            I hate how familiar you are.
you look down, cough;
I murmur a dusty hello-goodbye into the ground, hold my volleyball tighter
against my chest –
and hurry on, court sneakers straining on the pavement, trying too hard to forget your cracked smiles.

--

I remember how we used to pass for hours
no sound but the volleyball slapping against our forearms,
brushing off our fingertips,
echoing through that Choate gymnasium, that cold spring;

My head had barely reached the middle of the net,
but you were tall and brave and handsome, my Prince Charming, and
I was a freshman girl with her heart on her sleeve, who
hugged a warm volleyball to her heart and smiled,

thinking herself lucky.

--

Spring thawed your heart, eventually,
and you let me hold your hand;
you had long fingers, cold to the touch.
you taught me how to set, complimented my hands,
trained me to cradle the ball with my thumbs like it was made of glass,
your hands around mine.

I was braver than you were,
because everything felt fresh and exciting to me, like the
smell of crushed pine needles in the air;
you kissed me (I kissed you?) on that night
and I leaned forward, curious and eager, and wrapped my arms
around your neck.

--

The days melted into one another,
and we became
like chalk drawings blurring after rain,
like floor burns from sliding to save a falling ball –
but missing it, all the effort gone to waste;
the burns will still burn and still scar, for nothing.

May to June, June to July,
I hugged you and laughed, but my eyes
were cold; you said I love you
And I tried to say it back, but I couldn’t without
sticking a used to before the love –
            the honey words stuck in my throat.

Our kisses were routine, stale
like the crackers I left out the night before;
I tapped my foot and
tossed the volleyball quickly behind my back with nimble fingers
and counted the seconds before it was acceptable to pull back;
I had homework and volleyball practice and quizzes to study for, you know – I tried to smile but
it felt so wrong, I stopped –
you asked what was wrong, I shook my head, there are no answers for some questions.

--

It’s been four years since we’ve spoken,
shared secret moments under solemn oak trees, behind library bookshelves
that promised to keep us away from prying eyes,
smiled into each other’s lips,
blinked stories into each other’s eyes.
It’s been four years since people have teased you for not
hitting the ball when we passed – you gentleman, you –

I will not say I miss you, because I refuse to lie for your sake;
but sometimes as I set a ball perfectly to a hitter
I think of you for a split second, wonder where you are and if you remember as much
as I do, which is, honestly
not very much.

--

she writes letters to him and then burns them all, the smell of smoke fills the room.
It’s as if she is stealing the fury of the sun, which is cooling down, melting into lava at the horizon –
it will be another cold winter, there is already frost in the grass, the air smells chilly.

Dear you,

I broke up with you as nicely as I could –
there was no reason I fell out of love, the same way
there is no reason people fall in love.

you have no right ******* me out on the internet the way you did.
Every time I hit a volleyball I imagine your face on my palm, and I hit harder.
I will never forgive you for the things you wrote,
and I don’t know if I ever loved you at all,
because you are despicable.

Goodbye,
the girl of your dreams.


--

it’s the beginning of the end of July, everything is so hot.
the pavement is baking, the volleyballs are flat,
her arms feel weak and limp like overcooked noodles.

it’s hard to think straight. She can hardly remember
her own name before remembering that she has a boyfriend.
He calls, he says I love you and she tries to choke out that well-rehearsed lie –
what was it again? something like I love you too?

But it’s too hot, and she
can’t do it anymore –

she swallows hard and grips her volleyball tighter,
her hands sweating against the weathered sphere that has been through so much with her
as she prepares to say goodbye.
1969 Hartford art school is magnet for exceedingly intelligent over-sensitive under-achievers alluring freaks congenital creeps and anyone who cannot cut it in straight world it is about loners dreamers stoners clowns cliques of posers competing to dress draw act most outrageous weird wonderful classrooms clash in diversity of needs some students get it right off while others require so much individual attention one girl constantly raises her hand calls for everything to be repeated explained creativity is treated as trouble and compliance to instruction rewarded most of faculty are of opinion kids are not capable of making original artwork teachers discourage students from dream of becoming well-known until they are older more experienced only practiced skilled artists are competent to create ‘real art’ defined by how much struggle or multiple meanings weave through the work Odysseus wants to make magic boxes without knowing or being informed of Joseph Cornell one teacher tells him you think you’re going to invent some new color the world has never seen? you’re just some rowdy brat from the midwest with a lot of crazy ideas and no evidence of authenticity another teacher warns you’re nothing more than a bricoleur! Odysseus questions what’s a bricoleur teacher informs a rogue handyman who haphazardly constructs from whatever is immediately available Odysseus questions what’s wrong with that? teacher answers it’s low-class folk junk  possessing no real intellectual value independently he reads Marshall McLuhan’s “The Medium Is The Message” and “The Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci” he memorizes introductory remark of Leonardo’s “i must do like one who comes last to the fair and can find no other way of providing for himself than by taking all the things already seen by others and not taken by reason of their lesser value” Odysseus dreams of becoming accomplished important artist like Robert Rauschenberg Jasper Johns Andy Warhol he dreams of being in eye of hurricane New York art scene he works for university newspaper and is nicknamed crashkiss the newspaper editor is leader in student movement and folk singer who croons “45 caliber man, you’re so much more than our 22, but there’s so many more of us than you” Odysseus grows mustache wears flower printed pants vintage 1940’s leather jacket g.i. surplus clothes he makes many friends his gift for hooking up with girls is uncanny he is long haired drug-crazed hippie enjoying popularity previously unknown to him rock bands play at art openings everyone flirts dances gets ****** lots of activism on campus New York Times dubs university of Hartford “Berkeley of the east coast” holding up ******* in peace sign is subversive in 1969 symbol of rebellion youth solidarity gesture against war hawks rednecks corporate America acknowledgment of potential beyond materialistic self-righteous values of status quo sign of what could be in universe filled with incredible possibilities he moves in with  painting student one year advanced named Todd Whitman Todd has curly blond hair sturdy build wire rimmed glasses impish smile gemini superb draftsman amazing artist Todd emulates Francisco de Goya and Albrecht Durer Todd’s talent overshadows Odysseus’s Todd’s dad is accomplished professor at distinguished college in Massachusetts to celebrate Odysseus’s arrival Todd cooks all day preparing spaghetti dinner when Odysseus arrives home tripping on acid without appetite Todd is disappointed Odysseus runs down to corner store buys large bottle of wine returns to house Todd is eating spaghetti alone they get drunk together then pierce each other’s ears with needles ice wine cork pierced ears are outlaw style of bad *** bikers like Hell’s Angels Todd says you are a real original Odys and funny too Odysseus asks funny, how? Todd answers you are one crazy ******* drop acid whenever you want smoke **** then go to class this is fun tonight Odys getting drunk and piercing our ears Odysseus says yup i’m having a good time too Todd and Odysseus become best friends Odysseus turns Todd on to Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar” and “Ariel” then they both read Ted Hughes “Crow” illustrated with Leonard Baskin prints Todd turns Odysseus on to German Expressionist painting art movement of garish colors emotionally violent imagery from 1905-1925 later infuriating Third ***** who deemed the work “degenerate” Odysseus dives into works of Max Beckmann Otto Dix Conrad Felixmulller Barthel Gilles George Grosz Erich Heckel Ernst Ludwig Kirchner Felix Nussbaum Karl *******Rottluff Carl Hofer August Macke Max Peckstein Elfriede Lohse-Wachtler Egon Shiele list goes on in 1969 most parents don’t have money to buy their children cars most kids living off campus either ride bikes or hitchhike to school then back home on weekends often without a penny in their pockets Odysseus and Todd randomly select a highway and hitch rides to Putney Vermont Brattleboro Boston Cape Cod New York City or D.C. in search of adventure there is always trouble to be found curious girls to assist in Georgetown Odysseus sleeps with skinny girl with webbed toes who believes he is Jesus he tries to dissuade her but she is convinced

Toby Mantis is visiting New York City artist at Hartford art school he looks like huskier handsomer version of Ringo Starr and women dig him he builds stretchers and stretches canvases for Warhol lives in huge loft in Soho on Broadway and Bleeker invites Odysseus to come down on weekends hang out Toby takes him to Max’s Kansas City Warhol’s Electric Circus they wander all night into morning there are printing companies longshoremen gays in Chelsea Italians in West Village hippies playing guitars protesting the war in Washington Square all kinds of hollering crazies passing out fliers pins in Union Square Toby is hard drinker Odysseus has trouble keeping up  he pukes his guts out number of times Odysseus is *** head not drinker he explores 42nd Street stumbles across strange exotic place named Peep Show World upstairs is large with many **** cubicles creepy dudes hanging around downstairs is astonishing there are many clusters of booths with live **** girls inside girls shout out hey boys come on now pick me come on boys there are hundreds of girls from all over the world in every conceivable size shape race he enters dark stall  puts fifty cents in coin box window screen lifts inside each cluster are 6 to 10 girls either parading or glued to a window for $1 he is allowed to caress kiss their ******* for $2 he is permitted to probe their ****** or *** for $10 girl reaches hand into darkened stall jerks him off tall slender British girl thrills him the most she says let me have another go at your dickey Odysseus spends all his money ******* 5 times departing he notices men from every walk of life passing through wall street stockbrokers executives rednecks mobsters frat boys tourists fat old bald guys smoking thick smelly cigars Toby Mantis has good-looking girlfriend named Lorraine with long brown hair Toby Lorraine and Odysseus sit around kitchen table Odysseus doodles with pencil on paper Toby spreads open Lorraine’s thighs exposing her ****** to Odysseus Lorraine blushes yet permits Toby to finger her Odysseus thinks she has the most beautiful ****** he has ever seen bulging pelvic bone brown distinctive bush symmetric lips Toby and Lorraine watch in amusement as Odysseus gazes intently Tony mischievously remarks you like looking at that ***** don’t you? Odysseus stares silently begins pencil drawing Lorraine’s ****** his eyes darting back and forth following day Lorraine seduces Odysseus while Toby is away walks out **** from shower she is few years older her body lean with high ******* she directs his hands mouth while she talks with someone on telephone it is strange yet quite exciting Odysseus is in awe of New York City every culture in the world intermingling democracy functioning in an uncontrollable managed breath millions of people in motion stories unraveling on every street 24 hour spectacle with no limits every conceivable variety of humanity ******* in same air Odysseus is bedazzled yet intimidated

Odysseus spends summer of 1970 at art colony in Cummington Massachusetts it is magical time extraordinary place many talented eccentric characters all kinds of happenings stage plays poetry readings community meals volleyball after dinner volleyball games are hilarious fun he lives alone in isolated studio amidst wild raspberries in woods shares toilet with field mouse no shower he reads Jerzy Kosinski’s “Painted Bird” then “Being There” then “Steps” attractive long haired girl named Pam visits community for weekend meets Odysseus they talk realize they were in first grade together at Harper amazing coincidence automatic ground for “we need to have *** because neither of us has seen each other since first grade” she inquires where do you sleep? Todd hitches up from Hartford to satisfy curiosity everyone sleeps around good-looking blue-eyed poet named Shannon Banks from South Boston tells Odysseus his ******* is not big enough for kind of ******* she wants but she will **** him off that’s fine with him 32 year old poet named Ellen Morrissey from Massachusetts reassures him ******* is fine Ellen is beginning to find her way out from suffocating marriage she has little daughter named Nina Ellen admires Odysseus’s free spirit sees both his possibilities and naïveté she realizes he has crippling family baggage he has no idea he is carrying thing about trauma is as it is occurring victim shrugs laughs to repel shock yet years later pain horror sink in turned-on with new ideas he returns to Hartford art school classes are fun yet confusing he strives to be best drawer most innovative competition sidetracks him Odysseus uses power drill to carve pumpkin on Halloween teachers warn him to stick to fundamentals too much creativity is suspect Todd and he are invited to holiday party Odysseus shows up with Ellen Morrissey driving in her father’s station wagon 2 exceptionally pretty girls flirt with him he is live wire they sneak upstairs he fingers both at same time while they laugh to each other one of the girls Laura invites him outside to do more he follows they walk through falling snow until they find hidden area near some trees Laura lies down lifts her skirt she spreads her legs dense ***** mound he is about to explore her there when Laura looks up sees figure with flashlight following their tracks in snow she warns it’s Bill my husband run for your life! Odysseus runs around long way back inside party grabs a beer pretending he has been there next to Ellen all night few minutes later he sees Laura and Bill return through front door Bill has dark mustache angry eyes Odysseus tells Ellen it is late maybe they should leave soon suddenly Bill walks up to him with beer in hand cracks bottle over his head glass and beer splatter Odysseus jumps up runs out to station wagon Ellen hurriedly follows snow coming down hard car is wedged among many guest vehicles he starts engine locks doors maneuvers vehicle back and forth trying to inch way out of spot Bill appears from party walks to his van disappears from out of darkness swirling snow Bill comes at them wielding large crowbar smashes car’s headlights taillights side mirrors windshield covered in broken glass Ellen ducks on floor beneath glove compartment sobs cries he’s going to **** us! we’re going to die! Odysseus steers station wagon free floors gas pedal drives on back country roads through furious snowstorm in dark of night no lights Odysseus contorts crouches forward in order to see through hole in shattered windshield Ellen sees headlights behind them coming up fast it is Bill in van Bill banging their bumper follows them all the way back to Hartford to Odysseus’s place they run inside call police Bill sits parked van outside across street as police arrive half hour later Bill pulls away next day Odysseus and Ellen drive to Boston to explain to Ellen’s dad what has happened to his station wagon Odysseus stays with Ellen in Brookline for several nights another holiday party she wants to take him along to meet her friends her social circles are older he thinks to challenge their values be outrageous paints face Ellen is horrified cries you can’t possibly do this to me these are my close friends what will they think? he defiantly answers my face is a mask who cares what i look like? man woman creature what does it matter? if your friends really want to know me they’ll need to look beyond the make-up tonight i am your sluttish girlfriend! sometimes Odysseus can be a thoughtless fool

Laura Rousseau Shane files for divorce from Bill she is exceptionally lovely models at art school she is of French descent her figure possessing exotic traits she stands like ballerina with thick pointed ******* copious ***** hair Odysseus is infatuated she frequently dances pursues him Laura says i had the opportunity to meet Bob Dylan once amazed Odysseus questions what did you do? she replies what could i possibly have in common with Bob Dylan? Laura teases Odysseus about being a preppy then lustfully gropes him grabs holds his ***** they devote many hours to ****** intimacy during ******* she routinely reaches her hand from under her buns grasps his testicles squeezing as he pumps he likes that Laura is quite eccentric fetishes over Odysseus she even thrills to pick zits on his back he is not sure if it is truly a desire of hers proof of earthiness or simply expression of mothering Laura has two daughters by Bill Odysseus is in over his head Laura tells Odysseus myth of Medea smitten with love for Jason Jason needs Medea’s help to find Golden Fleece Medea agrees with promise of marriage murders her brother arranges ****** of king who has deprived Jason his inheritance couple is forced into exile Medea bears Jason 2 sons then Jason falls in love with King Creon’s daughter deserts Medea is furious she makes shawl for King Creon’s daughter to wear at her wedding to Jason  shawl turns to flames killing bride Medea murders her own sons by Jason Odysseus goes along with story for a while but Laura wants husband Odysseus is merely scruffy boy with roving eyes Laura becomes galled by Odysseus leaves him for one of his roommates whom she marries then several years later divorces there is scene when Laura tells Odysseus she is dropping him for his roommate he is standing in living room of her house space is painted deep renaissance burgundy there are framed photographs on walls in one photo he is hugging Laura and her daughters under big oak tree in room Laura’s friend Bettina other girl he fingered first night he met Laura at party is watching with arms crossed he drops to floor curls body sobs i miss you so much Laura turns to Bettina remarks look at him men are such big babies he’s pitiful Bettina nods

following summer he works installing displays at G. Fox Department Store besides one woman gay men staff display department for as long as he can remember homosexuals have always been attracted to him this misconception is probably how he got job his tenor voice suggesting not entirely mature man instead more like tentative young boy this ambiguous manifestation sometimes also evidences gestures thoroughly misleading after sidestepping several ****** advances one of his co-workers bewilderingly remarks you really are straight manager staff are fussy chirpy catty group consequently certain he is not gay they discriminate against him stick him with break down clean up slop jobs at outdoor weekend rock concert in Constitution Plaza he meets 2 younger blond girls who consent to go back to his place mess around both girls are quite dazzling yet one is somewhat physically undeveloped they undress and model for Odysseus radio plays Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly With His Song” both girls move to rhythm sing along he thinks to orchestrate direct decides instead to let them lead lies on bed while curvaceous girl rides his ******* slender girl sits on his face they switch all 3 alternate giggle laughter each girl reaches ****** on his stiffness later both assist with hands mouths his ****** is so intense it leaves him paralyzed for a moment

in fall he is cast as Claudius in production of Hamlet Odysseus rehearses diligently on nights o
PieLovinUnicorn Feb 2015
I serve
To my team

I catch
with my face

I pass
To the floor

I score
Into the net

And yet
I frown
By smiling

And win
By losing

A defeat
Can be a good victory
Its all about sportsmanship
This is some true stuff that happen to me
Christa Leuning Dec 2011
Thursday, 1:36AM
A conversation
Stemming from a picture
Posted on Facebook
Over whether a volleyball is pink or bubblegum.

You girls should seriously get your eyes checked
Suggests its owner
Because the volleyball is most definitely not pink
Indeed bubblegum and white.

It is sad, he says,
That a college-aged person does not know
The basic colors of life.
He tells us I will pray for you
As if we are the ones who need to be atoned.
What is our sin?

Hes wondering why
God gave us such shallow minds
And bad color perception.

To this I take offense, especially since
Perception is not spelled
“p-r-e-c-e-p-t-i-o-n”.
He brings
Conception, Construction and Liposuction
Into the mix.
Where is this going I asked What is the relevance
Of these things?
He has no answer…

The things I have learned from this
are very clear:
Pink does not equal bubblegum
Facebook does not equal
Intelligent conversation
And owning a pink volleyball
Does not equal being effeminate
And whether male or female
All are one.
eng jin Apr 2018
The screaming cheers
travel a distance far
in the divided hall
the yellows and blues
await the serving ball

an overhand strike
the ball speeds
across the mid-line

the yellows
dig, set & attack
the blues
fling & smack
fearless & skilled
the crowd hails

winning or defeat
is a victory for all
for the love
of volleyball
Peter Simon  Feb 2015
Volleyball
Peter Simon Feb 2015
Faded clothes,
Burnt face,
Sticky hair,
Filthy palms,
Bloodshot eyes,
Sweaty arms.

Dried throat,
Painful thighs,
Sore feet,
Divided crowd,
Pitiful players,
Swollen knuckles.

Torn hope,
Crumpled chance,
Sunned court,
Tumbling scores,
Coughing points,
Silver lining.
This is what I felt after a good match under the sun.
Sydney Victoria Mar 2013
The Nets Hold Our Dreams Like Tangled Bugs,
And The Courts Gleam With Our Ambition,
Beads Of Sweat Form Perfectly On Our Raised Brows,
As We Play With The Attitude A Champion Needs,
We Are Dressed In Black And Blue,
Floor Burn Covering Our No Longer Smooth Skin,
Our Lips Bleeding From The Battle For The Ball,
The Sound Of Screaming Becomes White Noise,
As We Burrow Into The Gym Floor,
Just For One More Medal,
And As We Walk Away From The Courts,
With Our Arms Bruised And Torn,
Red And Raw,
We Smile At Our Dreams Still Lying,
In The Twisted Nets
I Love The Rush Of The Game--And Yep.. I'm A Total **** (Fellow Vballers Know What I'm Talking About)
lionheartlion Jan 2015
I feel bad for her because I know she's hurting.
But does she know how much pain she puts on me.
Making me think he doesn't love me.
Maybe I believe it.
That's the pathetic part.
Her pain causing the problems of my future life with Him.
This is not the love of a mother.
Who doesn't approve of her daughter.
Who she is now.
The person that she loves to be.
This is emotional abuse.

Hopeless
Dauntless
Useless

God get us out of this labyrinth.
Set the generations of past free for the future.

For only the hole in my chest is never going to fully recover with this madness.
This is not good madness.
The repetition of the flash on the screen makes my heart panic.
Alas it should be comfort that the soul encounters.
Lance Cecilia Jan 2016
Nilaliman ko ang hawak ko sa bulsa, wala na nga pala 'kong pera.
Mabilis akong naglakad patungo sa bughaw na sasakyan ko. 'Di ko ininda ang pabugso-bugsong ulan at bulong ng mahapding hangin. Bumubulwak ang tubig mula sa kanal at magiting na dinadaan ang palusong na kalsada papunta sa gusali.

Nilaliman ko ang hawak ko sa bulsa, at natuklasang wala ang susi ng kotse.

Matagal-tagal na rin akong nag-aaral sa lumang gusali ng Biology sa UP. Pangatlong taon ko na. Sa wakas, magtatapos din ako.
At saka mag-aaral ng medisina.
Unang girlfriend ko si Kaye, at napakahaba ng aming kwento. Nagkakilala kami noong bakasyon sa pagitan ng aking ikalawa at ikatlong taon sa mataas na paaralan. Hindi siya ang una kong babaeng nagustuhan.
Pero siya ang una kong minahal.
Nagsimula ang lahat sa aming pagiging magkaibigan, at nang lumaon, nahulog ako para sa kanya.
Alam kong mali yun, kasi may gusto siyang iba at may napupusuan din ako noon.

Pero binago niya ang lahat. Naging matalik kaming magkaibigan, hanggang sa ayun, nagkaaminan.
Walang nag-akalang magiging kami.
Nilaliman kong muli ang hawak sa bulsa. At saka pumanhik sa gusali, papunta sa aking silid.
Natagpuan ang susi ng kotse, sira, putol, puro gasgas at tila nabagsakan ng mabigat na bagay.
Badtrip, sabi ko.
Magko-commute ba na naman ako?
'Di nagtagal, nakaisip ako ng paraan.
Pinapunta ko si Kaye, total, may kotse naman siya.
Dumating si Kaye sa silid nang may malaking ngiti, isang ngiting tagumpay sa volleyball.
Bakas pa sa kanyang mga braso ang bakat ng tama ng bola ng volleyball. Namumula, pagod na pagod.

'Yun ang huling alaala ko.

Sabi ng doktor, nag-shutdown daw ang utak ko buhat ng matinding pagod, at nagkaroon ako ng amnesia.
Ayon sa kalendaryong iniabot sa'kin, humigit-kumulang 30 taong gulang na ako.
Wala akong ibang maalala kundi ang alala sa gusali ng Biochemistry.

Nilaliman ko ang hawak sa bulsa. Hinimas ko nang todo ang lalagyan, hinipo ang bawat sulok ng aking bulsa. Nakapa ko ang isang pirasong papel.

Dear Lorry,
Mahal kita.
Pero may mahal na 'kong iba.

Yun lang? Yun lang ba? Tapos na?
May nagawa ba 'kong masama?
Tiningnan ko ang aking mga braso.
Bakas pa rito ang mga bakat ng kutsilyo, namumula, puro peklat.
Sabi ng doktor, may suicidal tendencies daw ako. Aba pakialam niya!

Pumasok si Kaye sa aking kuwarto sa ospital. Hawak niya ang braso ng isang lalaki.

Doon ko lang napansin ang kuwarto ng aking tinutuluyan.
Puno ng sulat ang mga pader. Puno rin ng mga nagsasanay na nars at doktor, at pilit na iniintindi ang reklamo ng mga pasyenteng nakadungaw sa nakaidlip nilang kalawakan.

Hindi ko na kaya.
Ganoon na lang ba ang halaga ko kay Kaye, na ganun niya ako papalitan?

Kinuha ko ang bolpeng nakatengga sa mesang malapit sakin. 'Di ko na pinansin ang kirot ng IV at mga kung anu-ano pang nakasuksok na gamot saking sumusubok na pagalingin ang mas lalong sumasakit, kumikirot na kalagayan.
Isang 'di magamot na sakit ng damdamin, isang kirot na bumubulwak mula sa kanal na pinagdadaluyan ng aking pagmamahal.

Pagmamahal para sa babaeng nakita kong hawak ang braso ng isang lalaking 'di man lang ipinakilala sakin para man lang mapawi ang uhaw ko para mapasaya si Kaye.

Tinutok ko ang bolpen sa aking sarili.
Pinagsasaksak ko ang sar-
Arabella B Sep 2016
What did I do to get those stares?

Why do you guys look at like I'm a freak.

They whisper and stare at me when I Board the bus.

I'm just like you guys.

I came back for the Love of the Sport.

Not to be a Nuisance.  

I came because I love the sport. I don't care if I don't play.

So Please don't give me the look why am I here?

and Ignore me like I'm not there.

I know I got cut from the team. I know I don't have my Serve.

I know I seem weak.

Like I can't do my Job.

But I'm trying my Hardest.

I want to please you guys.

I want you to see that I'm here to help.

The stares and whispers are breaking me.

I'm going to have a breakdown.

Because I know you guys don't want me there.

I know why Stick around somewhere where you aren't wanted?

I want to show them I care enough. That I am strong enough.

I Just wish that's how they saw me.
If anyone from My volleyball team is Reading this though I don't know why they would But if you guys are Hit me with your best shot. I might feel hurt by your actions but I love the sport more.
Mark Toney Aug 2023
Above the public pool
a volleyball so cool
stuck for years
in the rafters
Someone’s
breath of life
trapped in
it’s bladder
Evidence of
their lingering
presence, me
wondering
if they ever
pondered the
relevance of
the essence they
left behind?
Singsong thoughts
turn inward …
What about me?
In all the places
I’ve been,
pieces of me,
residual traces
of myself
left behind,
cast away!
Small links, unforgotten,
faithfully preserved
by old friends—
threads of connection
reinforced by timeless bonds—
who keep my words,
moves (dancing!), and
shared memories as
precious cargo,
cherished keepsakes,
A clear reminder that
I exist!  I matter!
I’m something much more
than simply air I breathe
on an unremembered day …
Like that beautiful volleyball
in the rafters

W I L S O N ! ! !




Mark Toney © 2023
8/30/2023 - Poetry form: Free verse

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