I'll keep the face of my utopia just to cover the nebula I played the video games to pace down the wrath Blue jeans, summertime, your smoke-kiss, the retro song played Back to november I'll make you remember Turn off the shade Sad dreams of despair I'll make the repair.
it's been so long since.... oh, how I long for the those days swinging in the tree hanging upside down on that big branch waiting for the sun to go down so hide and go seek was more challenging skateboarding with friends and riding our bikes for hours and hours marbles were the rage and the Boulders were worth some attention falling down and scraping our knees, shaking it off till we got home spinning around so fast and furious that you got too dizzy and fell down oh how I long for those days.... has it really been so looooooong?
When all the lights fly out From the insects we use to collect, Staying up under a tree with an old wooden swing Pushing higher to see if you could project Yourself over the branches above. Telling me someday you'd escape As you pulled the lid away Watching those neon colors go up.
In the blink of an eye, We became the adults we tried So hard not to become. Pretending as children we knew our futures, Fabricating ideas, really we had none.
As we got older and distant, I sit under this tree and miss The person who sat next to me. As the wind blows cold air, A rickety swing moves slow Almost knowing I wish you were here.
Sitting alone To my own thoughts One topic Becomes thousands Fluxing about At the speed of sound Memories flashing An aching in my chest A gripped, compressed heart
A light Dwindling Scarcely able to survive Running out of oxygen Flickering in and out I walked on a tightrope Then I saw another A creature of beauty and grace Running across their own Then tripping Swinging to fall, But their feet remaining on the rope
Awestruck, I attempted to speak Finding myself unable to utter a word A bird unable to use its beak Then Discovering a voice existed I used it Reached out Made a friend In time A partner
Soon, I realized I was able to run across Just as they had Able to soar Fall for a moment But come back Somehow still upon my weary feet But given new strength and determination A motivation Thanks to my love
Heart beating at the speed of a jackrabbit Cheeks the pigment of roses Soul tied to the other end of a red thread Feeling something so familiar Possibly meant to be
His hair is November tree bark The tree I sit under My mask thrown asunder My true colors show brighter As he takes me in his arms Branches of a strong oak Leaves softer than a kittens fur Voice like that of a divine Spilling symphonies into my ear Still I sit here With all I hold dear Awaiting for time to pass And for him to be near
There Before my eyes My memories dance Take me into a trance A vision of rapture O what ecstasy Moments of roses Moonbeams pirouetting Orchestra playing Just for two Under the full moon Stars glistening in their wonder
A butterfly fluttering in my heart The zoo escaped in my stomach Flowers upon my face Over them is lace As I am in your sweet embrace
- Jay M October 31st, 2019
I was told to write a lyric poem in my creative writing class, so I wrote one about you love. <3
Swinging in a hammock under palm trees, I’m taken away; into a swing on a playground where we used to live. Pine trees work together with the heat waves that bathe us. My sister is playing the boys while they play basketball. She doesn’t see that they are planning a move, but I do, and I hope she’s got a trick up her sleeve. At fifteen, she sneaks out every night, out of the window with no screen. She goes to see Michael who I don’t like. I think he’s up to no good, but what would I know? I’m just a five-year-old.
Swinging in a hammock, I’m taken away; into a swing on a playground where we live. My brother rides his bike with his friends, and they talk about baseball cards and the next game. And the grass is always greener when he’s around – my mom and dad grab the camera and make the most out of today. But my dad is not his dad, which bothers no one, though my brother is always a little mad.
Swinging in a hammock, I wish I could be taken away; into a swing on a playground where they lived. I sit in dazed exhaustion from a long day – there are no sounds of running feet nor voices chanting names. There are no baseball cards nor boys nor basketball games here. I don’t know where Michael is, and my sister doesn’t go out anymore. My brother doesn’t ride his bike anymore, and his next game ended up being his last.
Swinging in a hammock, I stare with strange, confused longing at the branches above me; the branches that bend into each other against a clear blue sky I have not known for a very, very long time.