#recess
Midterms are over
I’m coming up for air
now that they’re done
I’ll admit I was scared
- that physics three -
was nearly the death of me.
What comes next?
The Manhattan express
for November recess
some November excess
with Lisa, my BFF princess,
my doughty, NYC adventuress,
I’m blessed, she’s the best.
Ooo! and some turducken bliss,
much needed rest and time to de-stress
Nov 13, 2022
Nov 13, 2022 at 12:07 AM UTC
Generating noises and worries
In a moment of recess while restless
There, heaves in sight of a wish
to have some sort of magic
spells to make your pain and sufferings vanish
Jun 23, 2021
Jun 23, 2021 at 2:41 AM UTC
the trees are changing
and
so am I
so are we
shifting in preparation
for the blanket of a new season
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 12:22 PM UTC
what a gift to
remove the layer of
sense dulling
fabric and
breathe
the air
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 6:24 PM UTC
Blue eyes
Black hair
You cried
I stared
I laughed
You left
Blue eyes
Come back.
Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 9:39 AM UTC
I was born a poet
forever-be
before I realized
I was sneaking behind
plastered brick walls
at recess bells
transforming the world
into words
spilling ink pens dry
I was born a poet
I embraced beauty,
enfolded magic,
encased the man on the moon,
tracing bare sentences
amidst pure wonder
until their final moments
till they cried
the truths of neverland
upon the immense star clusters
I am a poet
May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 9:51 PM UTC
i may not be able to break your rules,
but they sure as hell won't break me.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 1:56 PM UTC
Christina
and I sat
on the grass
at midday
at recess.
The building
of the school
within sight.
It was hot
lemon sun
pouring down
its heat waves.
She sat down
her fine legs
under her
her cream blouse
open neck wide
her small fruits
pushing out
impressions
on the cloth.
I studied
secretly
as she talked
her mother
in a mood
at breakfast
scolding her
her bedroom
in a mess
her clothes not
put away
too lazy.
I listened
taking in
her two knees
just beneath
her green skirt
the white socks
ankle length.
Does your mum
moan at you?
she asked me.
Now and then
I replied.
Beads of sweat
trickled down
her forehead
down her chin
down her throat
down between
her two fruits.
I wished that
I could be
(just a while)
that flowing
bead of sweat
lying there
in soft warmth
of her fruits.
It's so hot
she confessed
I lay there
in my dream
softly blessed.
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC
Yiska takes me home with her
in the lunch recess
at school;
it's a sunny day,
and she lives
a few minutes away.
Her mum is out seeing
her sister in a far off town.
She opens the door
of the house,
and I enter in,
and she closes the door.
I smell polish
and fresh air.
Nice place,
I say,
smells flowery.
Mum's a tidy-house freak;
spends time on her housework,
and if she's on a downer
she spends longer,
Yiska says.
She takes me into the lounge,
and it is neat as a new pin,
and I look around.
Want a sandwich?
She says.
Have we time?
I say.
Of course; I can make
a sandwich,
she says.
So we go into the kitchen;
it is neat, tidy and spotless.
Sit on the stool,
and I'll get us a sandwich.
So I sit and she gets
bread, butter and cheese,
and makes us sandwiches,
and pours us some fruit juice.
We sit together on the two stools,
and she says,
I could show you my room,
but my big brother
might come home,
he does some lunchtimes.
You showed me
your room before,
I say.
O so I did,
she says smiling,
he'd tell Mum
and then there'd be
hell to pay;
he's a *** that way,
she says.
We eat and sip the juice.
Maybe when I know
for sure he won't be home,
and mum's away again,
I can show you again,
and do something,
she says,
looking at me.
Do something?
I say.
Yes, you know, things,
she says.
If we have time
and not have lunch,
she adds.
After we ate lunch,
she takes me into the garden,
and shows me
her father's work.
Mum's the designer;
Dad's just her labourer,
Yiska says.
Then she turns,
and kisses me
full on the lips,
and holds me to her,
and I sense her there,
and her small *******
against my chest,
and I dream
all the rest.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC
I sit on the grass
with Yiska
warm summer day
lunch time recess
do you think of me
when you're home?
she says
most of the time
I say
I think of you
nearly all of the time
at home
she says
what do you
think about?
I say
us together
in my bed at night
she says
as I hug my pillow
and kiss it
I pick grass
with my fingers
every night?
I say
most nights
she says
do you hug your pillow
and dream of me
in your bed?
she says
not easy
I share a bed
with my younger brother
I say
of course
she says
do you wish it was me
there and not him?
she says
I scatter the grass
at my feet
I think of you lying there
and me hugging you close
and kissing and such
I say
my mother said to me
what's the matter with you
wandering the house
like a moody cow?
Yiska says
nothing I told her
just that time of the month
and my brother said
what time of the month
is that?
**** off
I said and mother
told me to behave
and not swear
I look at her sitting there
her hands on her knees
what does your brother say
about us sitting here lunch times?
he says nothing to her
I don't think he worries
and he'd not tell tales
she turns and leans close
and kisses me quickly
wish you were
in my bed at night
she whispers
so do I
I reply
Goldfinch comes over
aren't you playing football?
he says
we need you
for right back
not now
I say
I'm back here with her
he shakes his head
and goes
I look at her
and she smiles
and I imagine her
with no clothes.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 2:39 AM UTC
Some days
I wish I could go
back in
time.
When all I had to
worry about was
getting a swing
during recess.
(-DF-04/18/16-)
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 3:13 PM UTC