"backflips" poems
You're cute.
Adorable.
Sweet.
****
Lovely.
Amazing.
Rad.
Beautiful.
Awesome.
Handsome.
Different.
Weird.
Crazy.
In the best possible way.
You make me smile.
You make my stomach do backflips.
And 180's.
You make me stutter words that should be easy to say.
You make my cheeks turn firetruck red.
You make me want to write again.
You make me want to love roller coasters.
And horror movies.
You make me proud to be
A womyn
Gender Queer
Gay
A Confused Person
You make me want to learn about feminism.
You make me reconsider my original definitions for words some people use everyday.
You make my heart melt.
You make me happy.
Thank you.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 10:47 PM UTC
If ever you forget me,
try searching the folds of your skin
the secret space that bends to form your elbows
the nook underneath your collarbones
because I'm almost certain
that I've dropped a postcard or two
with riddles that lead to
your memory of me.
If you ever forget me,
drift off to sleep.
sleep deep.
I'll be the one in your dream
who is cheering the loudest in the crowd
as you spin and do backflips on an elephant's trunk.
I'll be the stone you trip on
the one that causes you to fall down a mountain
but I'll also be the eagle that saves you, and
we'll soar.
we'll soar.
Just
in case you forget me,
just
play songs from the winter birdhouse
and maybe the shaky voices and
dusty guitars will help you remember.
I told you once upon a December's eve
that no one can sing
they can only cry beautifully and
the best singers are those who weep the loveliest
so maybe a playlist
filled with warm nutmeg kisses
will help you remember.
If that still doesn't work,
go back to every time you bled
replay every tear, pause at every clenched fist
every second you were on your knees
but didn't see me standing beside you
behind you
whispering prayers
trying to plant seeds
you never heard me
but the entire time my being was screaming
I'm here
Only when and only if
you forget me,
I hope you'll at least try
to close your eyes
and see the treasure map I tattooed on your eyelids
the one where x marks the spot
where we cut paper figures
by your favorite river
next to the little meadow with
tiny spring flowers
but if that doesn't work either
lie awake at night
search your heart and
if you aren't able to see
my fingerprints on your veins
or my toes peeping out from your
heart's deepest chambers,
it's okay.
Because even if you forget me
over
and over
and over again
I'll always just be here
wishing I never had to
write a poem about someone
you'll never forget
when they've already forgotten you.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 6:03 AM UTC
Carnitas on the pit
Oranges searing as they hit the grill
Carne asada marinating
Waiting to be sampled
Coronas add lime
A **** shot of jacks
Laughing kids running around
Saturday morning was meant
For memories like this
Searing their own grill marks on our brains
Trampoline backflips into pools
Picking a lemon off the tree
Charcoal growing white
Familiar goodbyes and laters
Maybe another time joy will reach
This house that never seems to smile
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC
Another typical afternoon
In the Sunshower State
South Florida we call it
On my way in to work
Listening to music
Phone in hand
Then it happened
I slipped and fell
My phone now airborne
Me on the ground
No good could come from this
Once it met with the pavement
It did three spinning backflips
Then stuck the landing
The screen now cracked
Now I'm left living phoneless
A liberated attachment
No phone calls, texts or e-mails
No random googling or facebook status checks
Freedom from complications
These are the first few days
Then it sinks in
Detachment from the world around me
In these digital days
I have lost my lifeline
No quick access to information
No calling for help
Disconnected from everyone
And everything around me
A week wait for the repair
My dependency has become clear
If you don't want to admit it
It's ok, we all have it
This is just my story
How I found out about
My cellular co-dependency
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
I will keep being your hero
Gliding on nothing but cables and daring
Catching you to a cadence of pithy one-liners
I will keep being your hero
Beaten and bloodied by owls and doubt
Always with cocky grin backflips and in four colors
I will keep being your hero
With You beside me
Masks not covering flushed cheek smiles and kisses
Your hero
Will protect you
Help you swing a little higher
Fly a little farther
And when I can't be your blue and black gymnastics god anymore
You will still be my hero
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 8:44 PM UTC
The grass was overgrown,
And stubbornly fought
Against the clean sheet we layed
On it.
I made you paint,
And the floating haze in the air
Stung my eyes.
I knew something was wrong,
We all did.
We saw your emotions
Doing backflips
And pirouettes.
We saw your sleep
Running away from you,
We saw the music clouding up
Your thoughts
So they couldn't hurt you.
But none of us knew
How wrong it was.
I took two terra-cotta
Flower pots
In hand,
And declared it a lovely day.
You deemed it dismal.
I waltzed into the yard,
With bottles of bright paint,
And soft brushes.
I made you sit
In the oppressive sunshine,
With insects
Whizzing around our ears
To paint flower pots.
On a long dog walk at midnight,
You finally told me half of the truth.
That you were having problems.
The grass was still lively
And springy,
It was after the drought.
You dribbled paint
In pretty patterns,
And I tried to convince myself
This was good for you.
It was the small early hours
Of the morning,
Lit with fairy lights,
And your humidifier
Puffing in the corner,
That you told me the whole truth.
You had given yourself until September.
Printed an expiration date
On your forehead.
And I wish I could say
In that moment I knew what to do.
It's been a while now,
I'd like to think
I don't have to worry anymore,
But I do.
So in case I should,
I love you.
I love you,
And I promise to never make you
Sit in the sun
And paint again.
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 1:11 AM UTC
I remember when I flew.
The freshly cut grass glued its self to my bare feet, the blades wanted to fly too.
I took off.
A powerful start, rocketed off the damp visage of Mother Earth.
She had great power, gravity, is what they called it.
They said more than kryptonite was needed to stop it.
Gravity, only defeated by breaking the laws of Newton.
I didn't want to break any laws (jail would not be fitting for this hero who needed to be back in time for lunch).
But I kept going, if birds can fly ( and knowing they have much smaller brains ) then I could figure out how too.
I kept going, until my toes kissed the leaves of the oak tree.
Each time I touched the tree time would freeze.
In that moment I watched the wisps of hair flow back and the shadows cross my face.
Soon I was over the trees, doing backflips and summersaults in the air.
I was floating on my back.
The sun warming my face.
The harmonic hum of far off lawnmowers singing in the distance.
I arched my back further and further ready for another backflip.
On my back looking up.
What happened?
I blinked.
A permanent scar on the hero's back.
Sit up.
WHAM
It hit me, the loss of flight, the loss of that reality
and the reintroduction of the other.
It was all gone Mother Nature won again.
A life long battle.
But I'll try to never forget,
I flew
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
Someone spoke the word "love" and it gave me a flashback to watching elephants in the circus so I decided to start teaching goldfish to do backflips as an interesting parlor trick similar to pulling out a deck of cards and always randomly choosing the queen of spades
I have a flashback to a flashback in which someone spoke the word "love" and it reminded me of the Blurred Crusade and a trip to the circus and an elephant graveyard, my brain is a goldfish in a fishbowl (watch me turn) it's like the old parlor trick of pulling out a deck of cards and always randomly choosing the queen of hearts
My intention was never to be reasonable
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC
aside from my asides and internal divides
I stand in my prime, converging with the divine
plucking daisies in my backyard
doing backflips in my backyard
tired of trying to find gold in a scrapyard
denied due to pride and internal divides
he stands in his shame, colliding with the divine
doing abstract art and failing to put a finger on
the very thing converging all along
the growth not seen, he daydreams
but can never put it into action
stagnant dissatisfaction
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 9:22 AM UTC
facing the ceiling
tears down my cheeks
puddles in the sheets
already saddened
fingernails in the mattress
my heart's doing backflips
something great
dust of yesterday
still in my brain
your nightmares
but my days scare
no one to pull or pet my hair
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
Dance with me, Lucy
Show me kaleidoscopes of the spirit
Colors mixed and found, anew
Make the little clock
On my iPhone,
Spin in violent motion
As I stare into your eyes
Lie with me, Lucy
Tell me your stories
As I lie on my back and listen
In wonder
To the sounds caressing my soul
It's only you that brings out
This wonderful, wonferful feeling
in me
You make my mind do backflips
I lose myself in you
My conciousness expanding
The third eye peeled open
By your paper fingernails
And the taste of you,
Keeps me coming back
Wasting all my money,
Wasting all my time
But I'd lose all that only if
I can have you by my side
Why do you have to go away?
Why do you leave me drained?
Do you find solace in,
These tired eyes that remain?
I can fall into your influence
Like a perfume inviting my sweetly
To the breast of a conscience yet unexplored
Miles away, I am from me,
With you alone, the third eye sees
everything left unexplained
To me
I love you
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 11:48 AM UTC
I don't understand how one person can:
Send my heart into overdrive,
Make my stomach do backflips,
Lift me into an everlasting happiness.
I'm not quite sure how:
Your eyes are like gateways to a place I've been longing to find,
Your touch is as magical as the childhood dreams I once had,
Your kiss is as powerful as an army defending their home.
What are these feelings I seem to possess?
I don't quite understand what you do to me,
This grip you have that sweeps me off my feet
And leaves me feeling as if I am unbreakable.
What are these feelings I have when I'm lost in time with you?
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 8:32 PM UTC
I am from great grandma Jenny and her distinguished rose.
I am from summers at the beach and heavy winter snows.
I am from a bustling home and a yard bursting with imagination.
I am from a family where “head over heals” is no exaggeration.
I am from “Wait, whatʼs your name again?” on my very first bus ride.
I am from a brain full of secrets and “thatʼs classified.”
I am from the six legged octopus of matching Hello Kitty shoes.
I am from hidden forts at Teusinkʼs made of “rare” bamboos.
I am from cannonballs into the green and blue hut tub.
I am from the old Branch Office that sometimes refused to budge.
I am from soft green grass and sapphire blue skies.
I am from the back of a horse as the world flies by.
I am from cartwheels on old wooden balance beams.
I am from backflips and handsprings on trampolines.
I am from stitches, strained muscles, broken fingers and nose.
I am from insane barn sleepovers where only the glow-stick glows.
I am from dancing, biking, and hula-hooping through Wal-Mart.
I am from B-Town and Profession of Faith that really touched my heart
I am from Tulip Time parades and twirling my baton.
I am from so many things, the list goes on and on.
I am from my remarkable family who loves me in every way,
But mostly I am from God, and Heʼs why I am here today.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
Remembering October
I stood in my suit
and borrowed tie
And the butterflies
Flourished in the evening chill
For they were eating me from the inside out
The building's broken backbeat
Was nothing compared
To that of my heart
I turned around and it turned backflips
For there you were
And I was afraid
I didn't want to blink
Because I thought I would wake up
But when I pinched myself
I knew
And I was that much more awake
Jan 8, 2011
Jan 8, 2011 at 12:31 PM UTC
You were trying to cover your footprints in the sand
and only ended up leaving more
a spiral of your perfectionism
look over there -
over the beach houses on stilts
and the fauna - scrap metal bushes and dry, lonely trees -
see how the sun’s kiss sets the sky on fire?
the water is licking our heels with an icy, arctic tongue
we could walk westwards until our silhouettes are vaporized
but the sand is relaxed and this beach is empty
the acoustic guitar is talking in its sleep
ADD children are doing backflips in the backyard
Night crashes and crashes and recedes into the horizon
we climbed atop one another with visions of lunar satisfaction
time slows down and each drop of condensation on the window
contains the secrets of this muggy southeastern air
the strangers are encroaching too thick to think
warped monstrous faces ripe with desire
we couldn’t answer the questions so we burned the test
tinder to our fire so we could ward off the predators for another night
but the ground is growing smaller day by day
Mr. Demon do not deviate from this round of double dutch
my shoelaces are tied together
and I am hopelessly drunk off of your ideas on romance
that mix of sunscreen, sweat, perfume, and your breath
as my fingers prune
we mistook the blinking jet engine for morse code from the stars
once the clouds part we will have an escape route
taking flight with the startled panic of street birds
the earth will shake, the seas boil over, and the clouds will applaud
with wings made of coat hangers, brown paper bags, and masking tape
we will arr through the sky
like fireworks
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
She sleeps upside down
her crucifix nailed to her black wall
it's her resting place
as she binds her feet
she then propels herself
backflips upside onto her cross
there she spits blood before she sleeps
with many souls to treasure and keep
She is one of the loyal to the word
her ranks are many with interchangeable faces
leader of the lords of reason and might
a glory to behold in battle
she shares my rank
has one less black ribbon then me
her wings she repels to the floor
as she hangs from her cross
The rush of dying again and again she dreams
knowing tonight she battles to die once again
if she gets to the nexus the last black ribbon she will gain
death will come before the sun screams morning
she is good at dying
nearly as good as me
in three nights she will rise
and I will hand her, her final black ribbon
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
I've never really felt like doing
anything like drugs or alcohol.
But being around you makes me
understand
why people love the feeling.
But they aren't as lucky as I am,
cause you can cause me to
forget
absolutely
everything
and make me dizzy
just by being next to me.
(Honestly, just thinking about you
makes my stomach do backflips.)
On the other hand, they're luckier.
Cause I've tried time and time again
to get rid of this addiction,
and I can't bring myself to do it,
and there isn't a Twelve-Step Program
to quit you.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
This isn't normal
I barely even know what it is
I barely know anything anymore
I've had this before
But this time it's different
Because I'm refusing to admit
What I'm feeling
To anyone, even myself
I'm refusing to admit
That you make my heart do backflips
That you make my stomach churn
In the best possible way
I'm refusing to admit
That I think about you everyday
That my breath hitches
Whenever you come my way
If anyone asks me, I'll deny it but
I really think I actually like you
This feeling had never lasted this long
Except for one time
But that's for another time
I love this feeling because it gets my blood pumping
But I hate it too because things never end well
In fact- scratch everything I just said
I'm not ready to open up yet
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
With my mental acrobatics, I create verbal aromatics
Conjuring sweet scents with my perfect meter and tense
Using my dense prose to weigh you down like soggy clothes
And then I dry you right in time with my fluffy rhythm and rhyme
I execute mental backflips as I dodge Freudian slips
Spinning into the subconscious ’til my wordplay makes you nauseous
As I twirl around in this whirlwind I am reminded that the world could end
But it hasn’t happened yet so I might as well forget it
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
I'm starting to think Saturday's are supposed to be late mornings because breakfast lasts longer that way. Leaving around 4 to catch a settled sun. Hundreds of merchants in the park as the live music goes from the close bluegrass bop to the distant rock drums. Saturday's have become ears filled with Spanish noises you've learned to ignore because the pain of dancing still in your toes from your night of bachata speak louder. Walking to the ferria as the sun settles and since you're alone you finally get to listen and watch without being interrupted bites of alfajores sweeter with the solitude. Finding your love in each couples palms as they hold hands, remembering how much you miss your boyfriend as you walk in the direction of the sun. So settled and strong it looks as if it's rising like your hips used to do as you felt loved. Steps feel lighter and your shirt blows with the wind and for once you start to think this is what You always wanted out of this. Finding your face in the rips of a passerbys jeans, feeling your muscles as you wonder where the stairs lead to. Today you had time. Watching backflips that demanded applause and handcrafts that merchants hope you'll take off their hands. All the while it's only 6 o clock on a Saturday and you feel as if the day won't be as perfect as it is right then. Feeling like the first kiss on the Friday night, you waited and it finally came. Saturdaze.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
today, i looked into the mirror,
and under the hollow cheeks and tired eyes
i saw the ghost of someone i used to be,
back in the days of dimpled cheeks and gap-toothed grins
and oversized jumpers,
and i yearned.
those were the days of hurling ourselves off swings
to see if we could fly,
of doing backflips off monkey-bars
for the sheer joy of it,
of chasing each other round and round the playground
until our legs felt like lead and we were breathless with laughter
for no reason at all.
those were the days of dirt caked under fingernails
and knees covered in scabs;
souvenirs from various painful encounters
with the sun-soaked concrete.
i hated the sight of my own blood back then,
sharp and red as it was,
and so i’d wail in banshee fashion
until it was all patched up under a nice neat bandaid
which i'd proudly show off to my friends
(“no, I didn’t cry at all!”)
now tubes chew at my skin instead of sunlight,
and i am always out of breath
even though i do not run.
there is scarcely a scratch to be found on my body,
but my pulse has never been so weak
nor my legs so tired.
i hold the memories of those distant days
- tiny glowing bodies -
in the palms of my hands,
and maintain a reverent distance,
because there is no way
i will ever be that young or that carefree again.
still, sometimes i look into the mirror
and can almost reconcile my weary reflection
with the person i used to be.
and i long to shed this ruined skin, this brittle body,
and go back to the good old days
when everything was simple
and pain could be fixed
with a dora the explorer bandaid.
and sometimes, i want to burst through the doors and run,
atrophied limbs flailing, frantic heart pounding,
and catch muted copper sunbeams
with my hands outstretched.
most of all, i want to stumble.
i want to stumble
and i want to fall
and i want to bleed -
just to prove to myself
that i still can.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
My heart is thumping
like the stomping feet
of elephants.
Can you not
be so cute?
You’re making me act
like a clown.
If I could,
I would do
backflips like an
acrobat.
We all know
I’m no contortionist.
I’d try, though,
if it would impress you,
make you sit back
and eat popcorn.
But I can’t provide
that kind of entertainment
for you.
Not yet, anyway.
Keep buying tickets.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 12:49 PM UTC
What fuels the fire behind your eyes?
Tell me what causes your lungs to rise and fall in time with your heartbeat.
Ramble on and on about what makes you tick, and what you enjoy about this life.
Tell me why you hold that cigarette to your lips knowing the things inside of it split every single atom of your being, and tell me, go on and tell me how you don't care.
Make me crave more.
Make me cling to every word that spills from your full lips that I catch myself constantly dreaming of, and I'll explain to you how you've infected my entire mind.
The way you tilt your head back when you laugh so hard at something that isn't even remotely funny.
Or, they way you hunch over the kitchen counter cutting onions, pretending the sting doesn't make your eyes lose tears, like how I'll lose you.
And so I'll hold on tightly, like a child clutching a blanket, onto you and your words,
And I'll remember the way your hands trail my spine,
And how you make every nerve in my body stand up and dance.
I'll remember the curve of your smirk, and the gap between your teeth that makes my stomach do backflips.
I'll remember it all, even if you won't remember me.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
Hi my boo,
I really do love you,
My love was built for only us too,
My love adorns your neck like a gold braided charm,
keeping you warm,
When you hold it no harm........can come
Like half a studded masquerade mask,
but sweet like spices from an Alabaster flask,
encasing your natural beauty like a cast.......from "Friends".
My mind is your home,
Your love does Olympic backflips in my heart where it roams,
I Cheshire under its dome...... still soaked by the rain of your kisses.
Yes when I kiss you goodbye each countdown restarts,
I'm nuclear when apart,
But a placebo beside you, resting in a Cinnamon Guava ****
I melt and then crust, melt and un-rust,
Responding to your every touch, like a rose mulched,
Your love is my crutch.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC