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maggie W Sep 2018
I already have certain years
that constitute my life
CT, MA to NY

All the tiny things I did
Shape me into this version of me
Writing on a laptop at night

Yes, I feel like
I have seen enough things
Done a lot, good at being broken- hearted
Maybe could've broken more hearts.

Truth is, probably not.
I learn to accept fate as they come
Yes, sometimes I try to veer it towards the way I want

But life is never about
Achieving what you want
Rather, use the things you got
And turn it into everlasting , mesmerizing
Splendid sparks.

Am I cheesy being only 26?
Or you're sneering at me,
Ha you're not that young?

I look up for a sign and an inspirational quote
To only see myself in the mirror smiling back
and the past ghosts at the end of the tunnel

He said he does not want a relationship
I said I don't want my future baby to have ugly teeth
He said he will marry me for a million
But I said I don't want our baby to go to Harvard
He said, ***** Harvard!What about Princeton?
seriously don't know what i am writing haha
Sharon Talbot Sep 2018
If spirits can walk the earth after life ends,
Or even before, to soar in flights unhindered
By physics, let me dance then!
To reel, arms out, on a vivid green lawn
In a garden before a comfortable house,
Where lush flowers grow and summer reigns,
Touching rows of Constable trees that tower, emerald,
And violet-shadowed even at noon or painted
In twilight, soft before a rising moon.
I would skip over roads and find that field
That lies, protective, above the Connecticut,
Watching as it winds lazily northward.
Then, being sure that all is right,
That the corn is tall and full,
I would speed up to a rounded hill
Above a Victorian barn in Leyden,
Ten acres of rye grass for the cows.
I would stand at the summit and gaze
Far away, down the sleeping valley in its haze,
To the little towns and glittering in
The sun, my alma mater, towers
Of attempted wisdom, of spires and dreams.
Then I might then bathe in a little lake
Where I once romped with friends
After a wedding, **** and laughing
While puzzled farmers watched and leered.
As before I would flee to the river that wound
Down between the hills, splashing through
Pools in shade and sun, basking on smooth stone
Whose marbled veins glow in the canyon light,
Remnants of an ancient era, of pressure and time.
Then on I’d go, bounding from one hilltop to another,
Turning north from the cesium-laced Deerfield,
Passing Vermont’s border to stroll the streets
Of Brattleboro, Putney and Newfane.
I might find a canoe and glide up the West River,
Somehow floating above the rapids and dam,
To rest on the flat water as the sun sets,
Skimming lightly, watching the trout rise
To sip dancing insects or hear the splash
Of a bass as it flicks the surface with its tail.
And then I would sit with the ones I love,
Silently, breathing in the mist that rises
As the sun slips below the hills;
Sunset-colored, elliptical echoes
Catch the low swells like waving glass.
I would wait here until morning returns,
Not ready to leave this beauty or the world.
Reverie about the places I love.
ConnectHook Apr 2018
Qui Transtulit Sustinet

There sat CONNECTICUT, a twit
blue nanny-state, and doomed to sit
on welfare-warrens of the ******
her social service on demand.
She withers on NEW ENGLAND‘s vine
a bygone has-been, and a sign
of democratic overkill
where her once-dear and verdant rill
now stagnant flows: polluted stream
a moribund New England dream.
The richest state with poorest heart:
the Northeast’s saddest story. Part
of history’s renowned revival,
now irrelevant. Survival
chains her children in dependence
keeping back the state’s ascendance.
Apostate Puritan, grown old—
for LIBERTY, no longer bold;
a slave to Man, where once God’s WORD
awakened greatness. Souls were stirred
in ENFIELD (of all strange places),
Christ beheld in radiant faces . . .
Edwards held their spellbound souls
like spiders over flaming coals,
in gratitude for Gospel grace
renewing thus both town and race.
But I digress. Connecticut
is what I came to speak about:
forgotten dull colonial matron
yoked in failure, plebe as patron
nostalgic for her Charter Oak
whose deadwood limbs went up in smoke
along with dark tobacco wrap
while the plantation took a nap.
Her social programs overgrowth
pose forest fire-risk. Under oath
her public servants signal virtue;
sign which really should alert you
to the democrat-machine’s
impending failure (ways and means).
Nutmeg-addled Tax-and-spenders,
dollar drunks on welfare benders
widen economic rifts;
force single moms toward double shifts
while Latin Kings hold court in prison
waiting out their royal season:
fiscally unsustainable—
yet totally explainable
(nutmeg is a drug for witches
spendthrift warlocks, bankrupt *******).
Oh HARTFORD, city of the dead
which dies at five, then home to bed,
insurance once assured your rise;
but now your ghosts haunt sadder skies.
Your life displaced, outsourced, out-dated;
so, it seems, your fall was fated.
Meanwhile, close to New York City,
fairer fields are growing pretty
long on corporate commutes.
Data-driven growth computes
as data-drivers flood the roads
and enter by Manhattan-loads
from golden coasts’ Atlantic shores
and posh patrician golden doors
to bite the apple of our time:
a number-cruncher built on crime.
New England’s puritannic granny
(data-driven tyrant ******)
seeks to harbor tropic isles
with blandly bureaucratic smiles.
Your poor dear heart cannot afford
to welcome every island lord
who looks to better his estate
and so decides to emigrate.
Displaced Jamaicans outta yard
compel the soft verse to get hard.
Boricua separatists, dispersed
show nationalities reversed
and dwell between two foreign lands
in Spanglish no one understands.
Such nutmeg gets the covens high
to soar the stormy Liberal sky.
It’s Yankee hubris: condescension
taxing plebes for such dissension.
Though you connect, there I would cut,
excising from New England’s gut
metastasizing social tumors:
clueless and obese consumers,
teenage moms, pajama-clad
whose nenes wait in vain for dad.
but that was was in our nation’s youth.
She’s gotten worse with passing years
confirming citizens’ worst fears;
showing her colors every vote
her monotone, a droning note
on which the blue-bloods hang their hue
when hope and change are overdue.
Her atheist zeal meets Yankee pride:
a most progressive broomstick ride;
oblivious to her Christian past,
an enemy of God at last.
Senryu and Haikai:
Basho-san, can you get me
another beer, please?
a handstand here shake but enlighten her
that sink tanks with mats while driven leagues
under the sea dissolve a seance
with earthly her satellites only survey pride that behold riff
in scholar that best compose symphony
and virtueless connect the dots
Stay alive in Groton
ConnectHook Jan 2017
Tune: “Londonderry Air“*

Here in the vista of three hundred years we stand,

Our torches kindled by thy guiding light.

A Pilgrim host, we come to thee from every land,

With joyful hopes, well girded by thy might.

Connecticut, beloved State, all hail to thee;

Tower of might against a flaming sky,

The heav’ns resound with praise, ring out with victory.

God speed you on and all your glories sanctify.

Through summer heat and winter cold thy honor stands,

A bulwark gainst the mighty hosts of sin,

Till love shall spread to earth’s most distant island strands,

And Heaven’s righteous ways o’er evil win.

Connecticut, advancing through the changing years,

May knowledge guide thy sons and daughters fair,

And honor, truth and wisdom banish all our fears,

Connecticut, while we thy many glories share!

The years shall pass across thy mighty mountain walls,

Against the gold of every setting sun,

A newer host, well-born within thy ancient halls,

Shall bear thy standards of new glories won.

Connecticut, our fathers kept thy honor fair,

Thy reach of love they widened to the sea.

We shall keep faith, where they fought; we, too, shall dare,

Connecticut, for aye we pledge our hearts to thee.
...although with the taxes one pays in this quaint New England state
the poem should be titled “Owed to CT”.

I don’t recall where I found this statal poem but it is very old.
I like the straightforward prayerful tone of this one.

I'm not originally from CT,
but I now reside there for better and for worse.
ConnectHook Jan 2017
“Qui Transtulit Sustinet !” Motto of light!
‘Neath the folds of that banner we strike for the right;
Connecticut’s watchword oer hill and o’er plain,
“The Hand that transplanted, that Hand will sustain.”

“Qui Transtulit Sustinet !” On the broad fold
of Connecticut’s banner this motto’s enrolled,
and flashed to the sunlight on mornings bright wings,
A promise of glory and honor it brings,
The promise of One who ne’er promised in vain,
“The Hand that transplanted, that Hand will sustain.”

Ay and surely it well has sustained us thus far,
in peace and in plenty, in want and in war.
When the foe has attacked us in battle array,
Then Connecticut’s sons have stood first in the fray;
And faith in that watchword inspires us again,
For “He who transplanted will ever sustain!”

And now, in the darkness of treason’s black night
‘Neath the folds of that banner we strike for the right!
For the RIGHT !  ‘Tis OUR COUNTRY we’re marching to save,
The dear flag of The UNION in triumph shall wave!
Faith swells every heart! Hope fires every vein!
“And Thou who transplanted, Oh always sustain !”
A poem inspired by the state motto of CT
written by S.S. Weld in 1862
(you connect...I cut ☺)
tabitha Oct 2015
my dear dear  d e a r  boy.... .. . ..

her eyes are pretty
her smile is wide -- & white,
just like yours
she's tall, she's slim, and
she takes good photos of you on her instagram
her small brunette bun is cute
her little legs & little arms too
i'm sure it looks like something out of a magazine
when they are wrapped around you...

another hip kid from some northeast city
little Connecticutie~
did she know about me?
does she know that you live right down the street?

she hid behind your shoulder
that's how i knew
that she is in love with you, too
& it feels like someone shoved a grenade down my esophagus
and i'm just  w a i t i n g  for it to ******* in a billion bits
so i can just get over this

and then all the dads will bring their little girlies
and all the ladies will raise their strawberry daiquiris
eyeing the loose shards of my dignity
hoping that they could somehow help with their jaded seniority
going,                                  "lesson number one:
                                     love is never  always fun."
please understand that this is not a sarcastic poem.
while i do think she is stunning... this is not about her.
i wish it were that simple.
with that said, i hope you're happy, healthy, and feeling fulfilled.
scar Jun 2015
first of all the school closed
for a little while, just a few days
as if in solidarity
but actually in fear
along with all the other schools around it
great hulking buildings cowering silently
behind meagre security systems.

when we went back we couldn't get in
we had to have passes
be buzzed in at the door like strangers
while a fish-eyed camera lens glared at us
metallic, stark, judgmental.

then the drills began.
lessons suddenly interrupted
taken over by escape procedures and gas masks
why were there gas masks?
i don't know.

we, as children,
were taught how to hide
how to cower under our desks
how to build ourselves into corners -
how a triangle is the strongest shape
(i tried this once,
a few months later,
in a different situation.
it didn't work.)

the drill would sound, horrendously loud
a bell screaming at us
hysterical, panicking
but we must remain calm
remain calm, the teachers said
get under your desks
or something stronger if you can
build yourself a fortress
don't try to be heroic.

our friends died in that massacre
and other people did yesterday
over the sea (ande bari pani)
and i cannot stop thinking about them.

i can't say i know how it feels,
because everyone reacts differently
in situations
like this.

but i have been closer than most
to this particular fire
to the feeling of ragged helplessness
as you stand at the sideline,
praying that the next person to stop drawing breath
is not one you know.

these thoughts haunt you later:
how can i be so selfish, you ask yourself
what could possibly make it ok
for someone else's loved one to die
as long as their path had not crossed my own?

tonight i sit
huddled over a notebook
crouched on the edge of my bed
as this gnawing physical ache
pierces further into my stomach.

i stay here in the silence,
try to write,
because i need to get out
what i'm thinking about
but there is no way,
not really.

no way that i can adequately tell
of the horror
the realisation of what has happened
that these awful things that you see in the movies
can also be real.
no way that i can eloquently speak
about the look on a mother's face
as she discovers that her child is gone.
"it's the wrong way round!" she'll scream later,
"it should have been me first!"
but for now she just crumples
her face folding within itself
her mouth collapsing in a silent scream,
she drains grey.

no way that i can really speak
of what i actually want to say
and so instead
i say simply:that

my thoughts are in connecticut
there are no words for this.
Big Virge Sep 2014
So …..
Who Are The ...  
... " Good Guys " ... ?  
In These Modern Times ... ?  

Osama … Obama ... ? ?  
Or Those … Civil Type Guardia ... ?  
What ...  
Makes Them Good ... ?  
The Guns They Use ...
As If They ... Should ….  
To RESTRAIN and ... Defuse ...  
VIOLENT … Neighbourhoods … !?!
But REALLY …  
Is This ... What They Do … ?!?  
I've Heard Stories ...  
That … Relay TRUTH ...  
About The ABUSE ...  
Some Guardia … Choose … !!!  
Like …  
In … Spanish Streets ...  
To ... Prove To Them ….  
The ... Kinda PROBLEMS ...  
They're ... BOUND To See ...  
If They ... DON'T Respect ...  
The ... " Gendarmerie " … !!!!!  
Good Guys ….. !!!?!!!  
REALLY … ?!?  
Or Employed … BULLIES ...  !?!  
The Type Who ... FEED ...  
of … "ABUSE FILLED Deeds" … !!!  
The Type That Make ...  
Young People … BLEED … !!!
When ...  
Guns They … PARADE …  
Aren't Used … " Properly " …  
Kind of Like …. " NEWTOWN " ….  
Where It's CLEAR … Gun Sounds ...  
Will Now … RESOUND ...  
In The ... Hearts and Mouths ...  
of ... Parents Now …  
Resound With … " LOSS " … !!!!!  
Cos' A ... LOVED One's Gone … !!!!!
WITHOUT A …. Song ….  
Or Farewell ... "Prolonged" ...
So …. ???  
What Was The Mantra ... ?  
of … Adam Lanza ... ?  
To Shoot REPEATEDLY ...  
That Took … SO MANY … !!!!!  
Was His Mind So HEAVY ... ?!?  
That His Thoughts … CLEARLY …  
Had Become …  "UNstEAdy" … !!!  
So …  
Where Were Connecticut's ...  
GOOD GUYS … Then … ?  
With The ... " NRA " ... !?!  
At A ... Shooting Range … ???  
Shooting Guns For …  "FUN" … !!!  
While The Blood of A MUM ...  
And Youngsters ..... RUN .....................................
Down SCHOOL Hallways ...  
In The … Middle of The Day ... !?!
Now The NRA Says …  
"Bad Guys with guns,  
need to face, good ones !"
Okay Okay ...  
But Let's ... Get This Straight … !!!  
It's ... OKAY For A Man ...  
Whose Been Paid and Trained ...  
To ... SHOOT TO **** ...
Pretty Much AT WILL ...  
Cos' It's Been … " Okayed " …  
By The ….  " NRA " …. !?!  
Who Said ...  
They Were Good … !!!???!!!  
I Learnt My Lesson ...  
Watching … Charlton Heston ... !!!  
It Would ...  
Seem To Me ...  
That ... NRA Peeps …  
Care ...  
MORE For ... MONEY ...  
Than When … Children BLEED … !!?!!  
It's ... ALL About GREED … !!!  
Cos' ...  
Good GUYS ... DON'T NEED ...  
To Have … " ARMOURIES " ... !!!  
To ENSURE The Streets ...  
Are Filled With … "PEACE" ...
and I … For One ...  
DON'T Believe That Guns ...
Have … ANY Function …  
In …. Education …. !!!!!!  
Educate Our Youth ….. !!!  
About The ...  
HARM They Cause ... !!!!!!!  
They NEED To Be Schooled ...  
In ….... AVOIDING Wars ............ !!!!!!
And In ... Avoiding Depression …  
That Leads To HARSH Lessons ... !!!!!  
It Time To STRENGTHEN ... !!!  
Our Fight Against ... Guns ...  
And Time To … " LESSEN " …  !!!  
" NRA " ... Type Funds ... !!!!!  
That SUPPORT …   " The Lie "  
of …..  " Preservation of life " …  
Through The Use of …  
………. GUNS …………  
Seeing Blood ... Run …  
DOESN'T ... Signify FUN … !!!!!  
NEITHER Does ...  
... The Sight ...  
of Police In Schools ...  
With A Gun By Their Side … !!!
They Weren't In View …  
When I Was ... Being Schooled … !!!
So FOLKS …  
DON'T BE ... Fooled ... !!!  
By ...  Lobbyist Groups … !!!!!  
When It Comes To ...  
... "Who is Who" …  
Who Are THEY To Decide … !???!  
When It Comes To ... Peoples' Lives ...  
Who The People Should Believe .....  
To Be …………………………  
... "The Good Guys !!!" ...
From The On The Virge Album :
David Rusiecki Aug 2014
New York ~ News
New Jersey ~ Beaches
California ~ Movies
Florida ~ Disney World
Kentucky ~ Chicken
Texas ~ People that can't fit in their cars
Connecticut ~ Lyme Disease
Lyme Disease originated in CT due to deer ticks. See what I do? I make you laugh an learn. I'm like that chill teacher in school
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