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Casey Sep 25
The story we read in class today talked of the narrator's father
seeing his home of Italy as an old country he left behind
to carry on with what he started in the USA.
I'm not so sure that that's good.
When you forget where you come from, you forget yourself in a way.
There was a part of you that grew up and learned about life where you
used to preside.
Why would you want to lose that?
Thinking about it now, I do realize an obvious answer;
perhaps your hometown wasn't too great of a place
for someone like you, or maybe growing up there had bad
experiences.
In my mom's case, she left behind the city for the country.
She grew up in (REDACTED) with people she knew for forever.
But she always told me that she knew that as soon as she left for college,
she wasn't going back to that place.
Having to go out and buy cigarettes for your parents because they
don't have their driver's license will do that to a person I guess.
We do these things called quick-writes in LA class which are short, 5 minute responses to a poem or prompt or picture or short story that the teacher provides.
topacio Sep 9
i don't know
how many times
i need to reinvent myself
to eventually get to myself
with every milestone
that is a mountain
the hurdles i swerve over
taking a piece of me into it
at times a fair offer
a lesson for a limb
an eye for an eye
until it has swallowed me whole
and there is nothing left to learn
and nothing left of me
but the blank canvas to start anew
Alice Jun 12
I no longer bleed
When I pick up the pieces
Of my shattered self.

The puzzle is almost complete.
I can see a familiar face
Through the jagged cracks;
It's the forest through the trees.

Her smile is genuine,
Warm and bright.
She is as radiant as the sun
In the cleansing light of dawn.

A single, salty tear
Rolls down her cheek.
In that moment,
Her burdens are shed.

Hello, Old Friend.
True bliss comes
in reinvention of the self,
when zero
expectations are held.

Yet you still
have full faith
in the numerous
possibilities that await.
Forgotten Pages Jul 2018
I held myself together
Through the fire
Through the cold
I held my heart together
Through the lies that had been told

I let myself unravel
Feel the darkness
Feel the rain
I let my soul unravel
Giving patience to the pain

I stitched myself a new life
Always dreaming
Something more
I sewed my hope together
Stronger than I was before
JAYWalker Jan 2018
I'm in a mess lately
but don't worry
its a good kind of mess
I hope. Probably.

I have been unraveling
pulling the strings
breaking myself apart

tearing down the foundations
whereupon
I have built my old life

gone with the worn down facades
farewell to the faded walls
to the ghosts that haunt the halls
Oh I say to you

Adieu!
Adieu.
and upon its remains
I will build anew.
we are travelers in motion
playing banjo and hopping trains
headed from nowhere to nowhere
lusting for a higher purpose
away from this mediocre town
in this substandard state.

staring down the sun
like gunslingers,
squinty-eyed,
name calling,
spitting in the
dusty streets
and pulling iron
ready to draw.

there are cracks
in the sidewalks
outside convenient stores,
that look like new routes
on the way to terminus

sifting through
the mountains
and the valleys,
across the rivers
and over the bridges,
down the scattered
highways where the
bums are dying in
the forsaken streets
of crumbling castles

the tractors causing
unnecessary traffic
in wide open spaces
of the rural areas,

midwestern farmers
plant rows upon rows
of corn and the one
firework shop stands
alone surrounded by
nothing for miles
all around it

the sky shows its reflection
in the buoyant lake like a
mirror looking back at its
own idea of itself,

horses gallop freely
at grazing ranches,

endless journey’s
through the cold nights
of the desert wastelands
and the stars shine through
like pinholes in the intergalactic cloth
that keep the hyenas away from laughing
and viciously attaching the reinvigorating
green muse that communicates without
the use of words and shows us the way....

under which tree shall we lay?

not even our
reinvention
is an inviolate

but we not tulips
you could easily
pluck from the
moistened soil,
we are dandelions,
deep rooted in the
hard concrete

and we will
overcome and flourish
to find ebullience

like pieces that fell to Earth.
Always looking for a new place to live away from here...a search for reinvention.
b e mccomb Jul 2016
I spent awhile
In a honey-barbeque
Chicken salad of
Cynicism.

And then one day
Instead of Frank
I was no longer Bryan
But a better version of my Mondays.

Or was it the
Lesser form a
Thursday takes
When you're alone?

I have a desire
Shaded in the glow
Of a stained glass
Display an hour away.

A wish, shrouded in
These filmy layers
Of forgotten words
And remembered sayings.

To be half of one
And twice of me
So I stopped seeing stars
And dropped the peace-sign for a dash.

Reinvented myself
To break all molds
And here I stand, slightly
More intact, I'm back.
Copyright 5/7/15 by B. E. McComb
Kelsey May Daly May 2016
In my youth, I came across an intoxicating friend
As quick as tiger, my friend emerged to my best
Never one without the other, permanently in my hand
My best friend guided me through life, momentarily erased the problems I had
My best friend unlocked my happiness, then allured it in a jar
Only to be released in vehemence, which mutated into truth
The truth haunted my family’s soul, I moaned secrets of antagonism never to be told
My mind went to war, my friend was getting old
but I was in too deep and couldn’t let go
I craved it’s company, the feeling it gave
But it lead me to destruction, depression and hate.
The people that cared, begged me to release
But it was out of grasp, out of my reach
Soon they let go, something I was ******* to
Now I was the one, shadowed by the truth.

As I tumbled down the lane, with a bottle in my hand
I was immune to pain, felt no blood in my veins.
Goose bumps replaced the ragged clothes that barely covered my skin
A ghost blurred my vision, but opened my eyes to sin
I only saw a jigsaw of contention, a forest of grief
Then I blacked out, my once best friend killed me.

I awoke in a daze, but new life set ablaze in my heart
The ghost floated away, and at last I saw the light
The shadows dropped and a refreshed beginning was in sight
The alcohol was no friend of mine, it stole my time to realize
I gazed at my friend, and softly smiled
This newfound enemy was condemned to die
With a smash of a bottle, a break of a heart
A splash of disease, a pool of blood
A life soon to be forgotten and a new life soon to be remembered.
About my dad
b for short Mar 2016
She would take it down
       on old crumpled receipts—
imprisoned at the bottom of 

                           her bag.

Each laid to crooked rest next to
questionable crumbs of mystery
and a pen that leaked its
                    remaining potential
into scattered
Morse code all over
cheaply sewn lining.

The saving grace
of these little       ragtag proofs
allowed her to
relive the moment
when his singing voice
brought all of her
dizzy moth thoughts
                   to a stand still.

With each coo, he
pulled on all of the right strings,
and all of the right curves
on her body                 turned up
in all of the right places.

     Once again she
danced a smile with her eyes
and rolled her hips with her tongue
like she never
   forgot how.
© Bitsy Sanders, March 2016
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