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  Apr 2019 vern
Juneau
on this boat I am safe as long as I can see shore
but that is not what I have built this for
I sailed out for adventure and a chance to explore
this place is too mundane I want something more
to navigate by the stars like in the times of yore
and find rubies and gold treasures galore
but first I must get there so I reach for my oar
and row into the unknown until I am sore
I look out to the east and the clouds I just abhor
the waves grow higher and the wind starts to roar
the clouds begin to light up and the rain starts to pour
a storm such as this one I have never seen before
and all this premonition I can no longer ignore
but I am not turning back I'll risk the ocean floor
August 30, 2014
Thirty-one
  Apr 2019 vern
Sappho
Although they are
only breath, words
which I command
are immortal
vern Apr 2019
in my pocket you will find
a receipt, some gum
scraps of paper, some change
a wrapper or two
there is a dollar as well,
and finally a book
of unfinished poems.
open the book you will find
words that were written
but soon to be forgotten
by the author who misplaces her mind
she wants to accomplish
even a drabble or two but
sadly she will never finish
for she'll forget that too
along with her ambition
perhaps works are meant to be unfinished
I always try to write. Unfortunately, I'm not very good at finishing what I start. I'm trying to get better and finishing my works. This poem is basically about that. This is for the forgetful people who want to accomplish a lot but either forget to complete their works or lose the will to do so. This is basically my first poem on this website, I hope you like it.
  Apr 2019 vern
Maya Angelou
There are some nights when
sleep plays coy,
aloof and disdainful.
And all the wiles
that I employ to win
its service to my side
are useless as wounded pride,
and much more painful.
  Apr 2019 vern
Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my *******,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
vern Apr 2019
The long journey ahead seemed so far from home
The road astray and the ground blue
He looked ahead with hopes close to none
“A better life,” said Father, which can’t be true

The long journey ahead seemed so dreary and dull
A mountain looked down and towered the two
Covered in thick clouds and a single gull
The trees spoke in tongues with a silent adieu

The long journey ahead was nearly complete
He felt his feet sink in the lake
He felt the coldness of the water on his feet
This journey was for a better life, for his sake

The long journey ahead was a few paces away
He felt much better then, everything looked like magic
Filled with wonder for this morning in May
Almost there, no turning back, life won’t be so tragic

The long journey that was once long
Had felt like no time at all
This is a poem I had to write for a class about a painting called the alpine landscape
vern Apr 2019
I am a small and expressive six-year-old
I just came back from India, just a trip to visit family
I wear a bindi
My hands are decorated with mehndhi¹
I wear bangles on my arm of all different colors
I wore a little churi daar
²
And everyone teased me
“She has a disease?”
“Why is there a dot on your forehead?”
“You look funny”
A few of my friends tell me that I look pretty and they wish to wear it too.
I get a few compliments but the rest hurt
I never wore a bindi in front of them again
I washed my hands to rid the orange stains
I never wear my Indian clothes
I am a not so small and not expressive sixteen-year-old
I see music festivals, I see movies, I see the people who teased me when I was six
They wear the dots that I had worn
They decorate their hands with what they call “henna”
It wasn’t an Indian holiday
I’m a little hurt
Why was I teased?
But they are praised
“It’s aesthetically pleasing?”
“The bindi is indie”
Do not tease me for my culture
And then take it for your own praise
Is that even fair?
Do you think that’s fair?
some thoughts about cultural appropriation
1. henna in intricate patterns
2. an Indian outfit prominent in Gujarat, worn during holiday celebrations

— The End —