At 17 I will be free
I'll read the letter I sent to me
I'll see the change so clearly
And know my own complexities
At 16 I am afraid
And grades are the worst I've ever made
My mind could use some first aid
There is no rest, no desert shade
At 15 I was close
wondered who would miss me the most
hated myself for thinking anyone would
hated myself for thinking
At 14 I was brilliant
And I was oh so resilliant
In my passions I was dilligent
And yet my mind was distant
I will be 17
And when I am what will I be?
Will I still be brilliant?
Will I yet be free?
main street underworld
belts hung with halos of souls
they say they've stolen
t-shirts taunting— PROPERTY OF HIM
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
Cold are the shapes
that huddle by dawn.
Cold is the path
in the darkness of dawn.
Cold are the winds
of the lake with the dawn.
Cold cry the geese
in flight above dawn.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
She’s a Poem
He’s an Invisible Ink
She’s a Love Ballad
He’s a Vocal Less Echo
She’s a Soothing Lullaby
He’s a Muted Lyric
She's a Warm Breeze
He's a Whimpered Wind
She’s a Wished Rain
He’s a Thirst in Desert
She’s a Flying Dream
He’s a Falling Demon
She’s Nourishing on Pages
He's Dissolving into Ink
As if, Final Chapter of His Book in a Making?
She May Breathe Forever in His Silent Echoes...
for you dearest 'Lady of the Sea'
Is the age you are
You have my love
No matter how far
You are my friend
And that will never end
Our love doesn’t snap
It only bends
You’re talented and beautiful
And you’re just so cool
This poem has to end
For I am at school.
Baby, I've always been writing.
But you made me a poet.
I'm writing a small poem every day about how I feel or the world around me. This is #17
People say don't think with your heart.
Well I don't, I think with my brain.
I have learned to isolate and manipulate.
To feel everything and to feel completely nothing.
It didn't take long to realize I was stuck in a deep deep hole.
I can't allow myself to love, even if I wanted to.
There is a huge wall I cant tear down.
One guy... can ruin your whole future.
My love life is gone without a trace.
My screams cannot be heard.
I can feel myself being numb.
I can feel the emptiness in my heart.
But I am not necessarily upset.
I am glad I wont let another male figure hurt me.
Cheers to my demons.
Adios to my once innocent soul.
Take a deep breathe, and continue sipping on your chamomile tea.