"boarding" poems
Their boat turned in towards us
ready to board our vessel
to take us to their island,
a fastness, craggy, bleak, treeless.
To winter peat fires, gales, darkness,
weird northern tales of gods and trolls,
black nights seared by bright light curtains,
a violent Viking heritage.
A place where cold sea and ocean
overturn the crippled sea stacks,
our lives in the boarding party's
hands and our skilful Shetland pilot.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
You kick to gain speed
Lean side to side make a turn
Lean back scrap the board to stop
The rush on a board
The fear off falling
Uphill you burn out kicking
Down hill you hall ***
Hoping not to land hard if fly off
Tricks are hard could barely ride
Some extreme take it to new heights
Kick flips practice till you land them just right
Clean stairs ride with pride
Skate boarding is hard keep that in mind
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC
My hometown
is a place
of rustic beauty
and simple people
a population
under 200
meant that
everybody knew everybody
farmer Neville
and his sheep
always on the loose
and the quiz night
at the pub
just another excuse
to get drunker and drunker
and the private boarding school
which I attended
so rich with false academia
we learned the lessons
which would prepare us
for the false prophets yet to come
and the public school
and their ***** uniforms
where I found my friends
friends who at this point
have arrest records
ranging from assault
to petty larceny
and criminally wasted potential
oh how I miss that town
even now,
because despite the racism
and xenophobia
which infest my kinsmen
I still have to believe
that things can get better
that life there
can match the beauty
of North Yorkshire farm lands
and woodlands
and friendly knowing smiles
My hometown isn't perfect
and I wouldn't have it
any other way
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
"And then taking from his wallet
an old schedule of trains, he'll say
I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger."
--- Leonard Cohen
I'm the most surprised person on the planet.
Your coming to see me off at the airport
has my mind scratching glass seeking words.
Why is it that in this relationship,
you seem to have gotten all the speaking parts?
You're well aware that I have loved you
for the better part of two years,
bottling that emotion, afraid to pop the cork.
Your eyes implore mine, rotating like
a searchlight over Baghdad seeking
the stealth laying carnage to your heart.
Twice in the last week you've made it evident,
the Grail was mine, but for the drinking ---
That and finding a shorthand for adultry.
I'm guilty courting the love of a married woman,
made worse, you're here at my departure
telling me we aren't free to choose who we love.
I know my desire must die of thirst,
so I turn, boarding pass in hand,
the last words I ever hear from you,
Write me! --- Thirty-five years later I have.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 12:54 PM UTC
When I was small
I had a favorite game
A game only girls loved to play
Paper dolls, pretty paper dolls....
My sister Sara dressed the paper dolls nicely
Elegantly dressed, pretty dolls...
and we loved to style them our ways...
We got bored easily and Sara begged me to buy more dolls...
I used my childish charm to get a rupee or two
My grand papa joked about our paper dolls
"no saree wearing dolls"? " no chapati making dolls"?
" No parantha making dolls?
and both of us replied.... " ohhhh.... shut up grandpapa"
When we grew up a little,
My sister and I were sent to a boarding school.
It was all girls school
and we were taught grooming, social etiquette
and how to be a lady...prim and proper
Dressed smartly, talked only when necessary
and sat up neatly, no head turns..
No giggling... only smile delicately
No tantrums or emotional plays...
just be poised... controlled.. poised and controlled...
Of course
We were not allowed to play paper dolls anymore
After awhile I hated the school...
Told my sister..... They were turning us
into paper dolls...
Paper dolls have no say...
They only follow.. They are puppets
Remember paper dolls we used to play?
All pretty in the outside but there is no life
to breathe....
Suffocated i felt here.....all I wanted to do is flee
Sis, cmon this is certainly not us... let's flee
WE SAID GOODBYE TO OUR BED AND WE DID RUN....
We managed to be who we wanted to be in the end
to live in real world, be with real people
given a freedom to choose what we wanted to do
with life...
We enjoy our life not the traditional way anymore
Have career and still we dressed nicely and elegantly
We are real people...
Unlike the paper dolls , who only look poise and beautiful..
but inside they are freezing.... lifeless....paper dolls..
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
When I was subjected to ragging by seniors,
"It is illegal," I warned them beforehand,
"The kid seems to have gone throughout,
The itenary before boarding the college bus."
A senior student was jeering at me.
I must be appearing like a *******
"Don't worry, we will only ask for your introduction, consider it an interview. Please," said another senior.
"Alright if you request," I replied and I waited for their questions.
"Introduce yourself to us in few words." I was told by the other senior who had jeered.
"My name is Atul Kaushal, thank you." I jeered back at the senior.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 9:58 AM UTC
A lot of people come here just to survive
I'm **** lucky but I'm not better than anyone
It's such a beautiful world
It's such a fallen world
I have this dream that I want to build a home
for a lot of people and myself too
I try to be happy and strong
but I cover up so much fear
that I don't know who I am
so I'm really dangerous.
France, Korea, Panama, Kenya, Greece
it may sound nice and international
but it's hard to feel accepted
when things change so much
I think family is really important
especially siblings.
Life is not a lie
Life is not a fantasy
Life is enough to pain you
Life is so close to death
Guard your entry points
You influence them, they influence you
You could bring voice to a community
Whether you fail or not, you try
The way you think needs to be heard.
We make a fuss about the dying
but what can we do for the dying?
Be a neighbor
Be a friend
We can be easily broken.
I have enough skeletons in my closet.
In spite of the inequalities
all of us are spiritual beings
and the one thing that is equal
is the value of everyone's soul
Jesus is very straight:
You want to come with me?
Come
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC
The days are going by
The birds still fly high
I'm getting pretty nervous
I'm not gonna lie
And all the birds cry,
"Don't take me away"
I promise I'll stay
I'll be a better person
Than I was yesterday
I promise to do my best
Maybe more but never less
With this pencil in hand
It's time to confess,
For you to know the rest
Of the life that I've been livin'
Your word has been given
That you won't harshly judge
The words I have written
With life I am currently smitten
And all the birds cry,
"Don't send me away"
I promise I'll stay
I'll be a better person
Than I was yesterday
At a faraway boarding school
I'll be confined to new rules
It's not something I want
But something you choose
Myself I won't lose
And all the birds cry,
"Don't send me away"
I promise I'll stay
I'll be a better person
Than I was yesterday
I promise to do my best
Maybe more but never less
With this pencil in hand
The time to confess
Is now.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
Bag-drop. Check-in.
Hyphenated. Two syllables.
Security. A fat Scottish man,
A gentle caress of the inner thigh.
I retch violently.
Boarding, disembarking.
All I want in life is the back door.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
A good night’s sleep before the road trip drive
The mission is to arrive at the final destination alive
Then check into the terminal and find out their departure destination assignment
Later inspect the bus for any defects
Safety being the call of duty with having no troubles in the passenger’s trip having an effect
It’s Boarding Time
The Motor Coach Engineer brings the coach bus to the terminal departure gate
Announcement is made for destination with intermediate stops in between
The Driver than takes the passengers ticket
The passenger’s then board
Once the driver gets the ok to proceed from the Operations Center to departs, the driver backs out the bus and heads for the highway
The driver then picks up the bus microphone and welcomes the passenger’s aboard
He or she also announces the destination with stops along with rest stops and meal stops including transfer points
This is a Daily Routine
Later when the bus arrives at the designated final schedule, once the bus is pulled into appropriate gate, the passengers then disembark
Then it’s thanks for travelling with us
Safety with no fuss
Zero tolerance and you didn’t cuss
It’s all about the Motor coach Engineer and the bus.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 9:22 AM UTC
Their lies are prompted
from teleprompters
and executed flaw-fully
from taxpayer's helicopters.
They say we're protecting
foreign daughters
while filtering profits
to desert clad marauders.
Blank faced public
fear conversing religion and politics
while passively electing
lunatics with trigger switches.
Arm the rebels
they bite the hand that feeds
the middle east burns
while America ******* bleeds.
The white, blue and red
camo helmets on their heads
farm fed frat boys
equipped with jackets of lead.
We watched Saddam crumble
his statue beaten with shoes
but the same war we already fought
the puppets now will choose.
Fight the good fight
support the troops.
Drone strikes by twilight
**** the troops.
An Army of one
Sempter Fi
Do or Die
I won't shed a single tear when you come back in a casket
covered in a flag you valued more than your life.
Our heroes are our welfare
stop blaming single mothers
plastic bags tied around throats
water boarding dissent, it smothers.
**** the Medal of Honor
I'm tearing up your portrait Obama.
How many can benefit from free tuition?
But we give it to those trained to slaughter.
Our priority is the police state
Nazis pretending to tote freedom.
We sip our Americanos
And retain nothing from the newspaper we are reading.
**By Evan Ponter
@evanponter**
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
Sometimes in the airport I save a seat for you.
I hope that you will be boarding a plane or on a layover
and we could happen to meet one more time,
before we once again depart in different directions.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Chrissie dried after her bath,
towelled under arms and legs,
a radio played from the other room,
cello sonatas, Bach,
Delia listened,
played a pretend cello
drawing an invisible bow
across invisible strings,
she'd played this that time
to that music teacher at college
before having her(sexually)
in her student bed,
Chrissie dried between thighs,
eyed her mirrored self,
plumpish, pink of skin,
love bites where Delia
had ****** and ******
Delia drew the bow slower
as the music slowed,
head to one side,
invisible cello
between opened thighs,
smiled, the woman
her father hired
to care for her
at term breaks
from boarding school,
Delia has seduced
and bedded in the first
Easter term,
Chrissie dried
between toes and feet,
towelled a final area
of skin, stood,
washed out the bath,
the Bach flowed on,
cello sounds,
recalling Delia moving
over her body like a snake,
tonguing over and over,
Delia closed her eyes,
the cello stilled,
invisible bow
blown away
like leaves in wind,
she lay back
and waited for Chrissie
to return, bathed,
dried wanting her
*** to heat
and burn.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 4:10 PM UTC
People moving in
With their suitcases on board
Standing everywhere
Fumbling to their seats.
"MAY I SEE YOUR BOARDING PASS?"
Yes please.
Plane flies on the runaway
Diving into the clouds
Into a puff of wind
and smoke.
We fly.
I sat unmoved
For the rest of 16 hours.
I thought I had been fossilized.
Hardened.
But I saw it flying
Us flying to mi casa
Time is rolling backwards
My lips tugging backwards
No more jetlagging.
I held on to a light of a hope
with a lopsided grin.
Perhaps,
It's time to say hello
To the land long forgotten
The land with cozy saturday mornings
Where we have dinner at 7pm, not 9.
The land that I long to be in
Where I had been long gone
is 60 minutes apart.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
They lay on Normandy.
Two hundred miles away, the empty shells of humans
Who lie below the streets
Felt the poison that lurked above.
They shuffled out of the underground,
Boarding trains and ships like corpses
And dropping bombs from miles above.
A little French boy is spared.
His brother whispers “Bon courage,”
As the rest of the family are taken out back
And shot like mad dogs.
Twenty years later, he stands on the beach
With his young wife
Watching their sons roll and play in the sand.
His tongue tastes a warm salt
That couldn't come from the ocean.
All he can taste from the ocean is blood.
I can see my grandfather clearly
With tears falling down his face
As his mother shuts the piano.
“There will be no music,” she says quietly.
She is an immigrant
And I wonder if she questions the choice
That brought her son to a country where he might lay down his life
For strangers, four thousand miles away.
I can feel him now
Hiding in the apple trees,
High above the others.
He is in Sainte-Mère-Église, and there are enemies below.
And now I take them in my arms
Cradling them like children
“Je vous embrasse, les deux,”
And I lie down on the edge of the ocean at Normandy.
I exhale and hold them close.
The sun is shining, and I do not cry;
It is nothing but salt and water to me.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC
At his little hippie college
he shows me a *** that looks like a wall
in a Rwandan museum, all skulls, he
learned clay in the Rift Valley
boarding school, on a kick wheel,
still his favorite
My brother is a potter
multicolor plaid shorts
little goatee
Banjo
Japan dreams
girl from Mozambique.
When we were little in Loiyangalani
we made tiny huts out of obsidian
while our Rhodesian Ridgebacks
sniffed the ground for cobras
sand vipers
scorpions
while twenty camels
walked by in a row
followed by tiny replicas
My brother is a potter, says to me
'When I am doing this I am
doing what I was created to do'
He makes a green and blue
candleholder for me which he calls
'The Islands,' light escapes through many holes
which look like sea turtles
pockets of air and
an atomic bomb just gone off
we turn off the lights
in my room in the hood,
snorkel in candlelight
My brother gives me
Rumi, incense, peace flags
We walk the silent night
smoke a clove
look at stars
like we used to do in the African riverbeds
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 6:50 AM UTC
Smile
I'm lost inside of my head
Smile
The clouds have gotten even heavier
Smile
I don't remember how I got in here
Smile
How long has it been since this happened?
Smile
I can barely feel my face anymore
Smile
I can barely hear my thoughts anymore
Smile
I can't even feel my heartbeat anymore
Smile
It hurts
Smile
It hurts
Smile
It hurts so much
Smile
My lips crack blood cascading down my chin
Smile
In rivulets
Smile
It goes down my neck pasting my shirt against my skin
Smile
Boarding up the way out like plaster
Smile
Coppery metal salt
Smile
My teeth start breaking into Glacial shards
Smile
I can feel my muscles screaming in agony
Smile
My fingernails crack
Smile
The bone crowning the split flesh
Smile
Just smile…
It all goes away
Smile…
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
Insomnia,
Insomnia,
I wish that you would die.
Why is it that you ****** me?
You laugh as you make me cry.
Feelings that help conspire,
My heart to skip a beat.
The pressure of my blood rises higher,
To cure my sadness I continue to eat.
A monster grows inside of me,
His name I do not know.
All of this peculiar controversy,
Conspiracies begin to grow.
Not knowing who or what I am,
I start to lose my head.
While my head forms
it's acidic jam,
It soaks up into my bed.
Deadly forces fight inside,
My brain stops it's function.
Unconventional disfunctions collide,
Like a sentence without conjunction.
Distancing myself from society,
I'll sleep forever lonely.
Friends are like your enemies,
So late to realize they're phony.
Love has been lost,
Some time ago.
I wish I had a companion.
Misery,
Inside of me.
A woman's touch will make,
This loneliness inside of me go.
Questioning the nature of humanity,
I feel I'm betraying the lord.
Constant coexisting insanity,
Starts when one becomes bored.
Boarding up these windows,
The storm rolls in above.
As peers become your hated foes,
Hate transformed from love.
Waking up this very day,
I notice a familiar sensation,
Every dawn is like today,
With no spontaneous creation.
Night comes about,
I fail to sleep,
Instead I start to shout.
Counting sheep,
Is useless,
As my heart fails to grout.
Insomnia,
Insomnia,
Why won't you let me be?
Too many things exhaust my mind.
I'd like to go to sleep.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 3:06 PM UTC
Dear Daisy,, age 8, family fruitcake:
Keep at it, but don't feel proud about it.
Just keep going, because it's working.
Dear Daisy, age 11, addressed to boarding school:
You will learn something from this torture.
You will learn about forgiveness.
Dear Daisy, age 13, subject- your disappearing acts:
You are not ugly or undeserving or fat
or anything that she told you. I know you feel alone
but you could tell someone what's going and speak out
because you're not stupid if you open your mouth
and you ought to be more like what you want, not a clones.
Dear Daisy, age 15, congrats on the weight lost and gained!
You went through hell, and yes, you proved it
you can starve yourself, harm yourself, and tell lies very well
but you put the ones who love you through hell too
and you're lucky they love you anyways and for any whys
so just don't do it again.
Dear Daisy, age 17, subject: stop:
It is not your body that did this and you did say no.
Dear Daisy, age 19, to UCL halls:
He deserves better and he's not right for you
and you're not the girl for him, you're pretending to be her
and you know it too-
You love him so much, so let him go.
That would be the kindest thing to do.
Dear Daisy, age 21, to Amber Ward, High Mental Health Institution:
You've been losing your mind for more than a year now
but you have looked and seen it's actually been far longer.
This is real now, and you haven't a clue who you really are.
With these new eyes, you can see you've made yourself up
since you were younger,
and you believed your act until it became true.
Don't look back and don't pretend you have't realised
what you can't un-see now, even though it was easier
back then when you didn't have to care.
And who knows? Maybe you will always feel this-
anxious and confused and scared,
but at least you're not fictional. You can become fact
so don't look back. That's the cowardly thing to do.
Just keep at it, like you did when you were 8
because it will work, and it will this time too
but then you were doing it for everybody else
and now, who the hell are you?
Dear Daisy, received yesterday:
don't stress and lose sleep for worrying
because you've got a Masters waiting and you don't want to get ill
and don't worry because tomorrow may be unthinkable
but it's coming. It always does,
so calm down and sit still.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 4:53 AM UTC
we both work in the postal service
but neither one of us
has ever sent a single love letter
maybe it's the drill of the job
maybe its the grind of the machines
or the clack of the keyboards
grind turns to a drone
and i look around to what we thought
were industrialized patents
were actually what we had once considered our friends
was that where they disappeared to?
instead of quitting the dead end
i had assumed too fearful to follow the leap
they hid away in mail bins and P.O. boxes
i thought i was alone
maybe i was
maybe they really did leave
their souls gone
with empty shells of bodies
remnants of what once was
yes
i am still alone
those who i knew have fled the building
in search of a more meaningful existence
winding in up in god knows where
anywhere but here
these gluttonous pantomimes only accept hopefuls
midlife crises who leap
at the opportunity for promotion
like increasing payroll would reduce their age
same as the twenty five year old liberal art grads who need a filler
to help pay rent while they work
on what will collectively become hundreds of thousands of volumes unpublished
here i stand
twenty eight years old
and strip off my badge
as it falls to the floor
i walk out the door
say hello to the next boarding train
(last stop your hometown)
and goodbye to the dead end road.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
I wonder if they're happy.
They sure do seem so.
They're always talking about stealing their daddy's Jaguars and having beer blasts and getting in to fights and being bros and getting tan and buying new swimsuits and getting a call from different modeling agencies and crashing cars and smoking cigarillos and drinking fancy wine and going to their beach house and deciding between Harvard and Yale or Porsche and Mustang and did we win the football game and making new friends and oh my God Stacy actually said that and dude, I totally ****** her and my math teacher is such a ***** and my parents are putting me into boarding school and check out my new Jordans and did you watch the sunset last night?
I don't know if they're having fun, but it sure seems like it.
*I wonder if they're having fun. It sure seems like it.
They're always talking about hitch hiking to the next city over and going to shows and drinking PBR and sneaking out at night and yeah dude, that party was sick and my tumblr is so famous right now and check out my new denim jacket and smoking **** and getting in to fights and lifting cigarettes from stores and Austin and Katie slept together and Kyle broke edge and I'm still working at McDonalds and yeah I'm still driving my '93 Ford Ranger and smoking hookah and watching Mean Girls and yeah I love the ocean and check out my new Kicks and did you watch the sunset last night?
I don't know if they're having fun, but it sure seems like it.*
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 10:22 PM UTC
The curious activity of men/women
makes me wonder precisely when
both will learn how to conjoin
with rabbits, geese, bull and lion.
Talking incessantly like birds,
roaring like lions. However absurd!
snapping like crocodiles
or habitually waiting in human files,
torturing like cats
water-boarding rats,
rolling like logs
snarling like dogs.
snorting like pigs
gobbling up figs
In everyone an animal lurks
whether saints or jerks!
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 5:31 AM UTC
there will come a day
when father time will grow
jealous of us and
the fireflies will
turn off their glow
when the diamonds
wont seem so precious
and all the joys
of this world will
seem foolish and low
and i will have to
let you go
dear mama
sometimes i make you laugh
just to hear the joys
youve stopped showing
on your face
to breath your
attempts to cough up
your worries and drown
in my love
to watch you unfold
at the ends and
sease to be held in
at your seams
there will come a day
when everything
i have ever said to you
will flutter off like a thousand
butterflies in a storm
and my actions
will weigh heavier
than the 98 pounds
they've made of me
dear mama
i know i wont be able
to hold your stare
for as long youve held
my hand but im hoping
the seconds i've been given
havent already carved
a gourge in your daylight
since you recieved
me in place of a son
instead of building
a doll house of regrets
i vow to keep the
reality of your name true
wont glorify the time
you tried to spill
yourself in the wind
with the barrel of a
police issued gloc
because the shock
of your babies moving away
too much of a trigger
bet i let the ringing
of unfired suicide rounds
bounce off every new york city
sidewalk slab i've chased
in an attempt to
run from myself
when i left you
know that i held
the crotchet needles
you made my baby blanket
with in my chest
had the day
of your second stroke
in my heart
and the only way
i could release them was to
shed my skin under the chin
of a brooklyn boarding house
so dont frown at the anatomy
of a new york city skyline
just know it offered
the shoulders i needed
at that moment
when father time
grew jealous of us
and the fireflies turned
off their glow
i grew a light of my own
dear mama
something happened
between me watching you
relearn how to walk
around the same time
i learned to
double knot my tennis shoes
when everyone assumed
my ignorance was bliss
and let the brilliance
in your bones become
as black as night
without ever noticing
i was afraid of the dark
what have these years
done to us?
to make me bloom
in the bright of day
while baking the stalk
that is you
i cant stand to watch
you wither
wont you shine too
dear mama
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC