"highlighter" poems
fall was in the air and it was a very dreary october day. the halls of the old victorian house had been filled with new arivals and lots of noise.
"i can barely hear myself think." Madison sneered, a cigarette in her hand as she stood next to zoey and nan in the hallway. looking at the new girls with disguist. "and none of these new ******* better step on my toes. this isnt ******* hogwarts." she rolled her eyes. "hogwarts." zoey laughed, making nan laugh aswell. "if this were hogwarts, you would be draco malfoy" nan joked. "hardy har har." Madison snickered. "and you would be harry potters fat cousin because your ugly and nobody loves you." madison smiled. "well, i think it's great." zoey said cheerfully. "all of these girls would feel lost and alone and now they have somewhere to belong.". "you would say that." Madison rolled her eyes. suddenly a slightly younger girl with big green eyes and long brown hair and freckles rushed up to the three of them with a gleam in her eye. "oh my god it is you! you're madison montgomery!" the girl explained. " i love you! will you sign my back pack?" the girl turned around and Madison pulled a pink highlighter out of the side of her floral backpack. her face lit up as she wrote her name on the backpack making zoey and nan smile aswell. "thank you! thank you! thank you! you're my idol." the girl blushed. "my name is Cassie motts, i've seen all of your movies, i love you! i love you! i love you!" the girl giggled. "alright.." Madison had been taken back a step. "have a great day you little ****** she smiled, a look of confusion hung upon her face. "thank you.. you dont know how much this means to me." the girl explained cheerfully and walked away. "well ladies it looks like we're the head honchoes around this **** show." Madison sighed, still slightly smiling. "i was always the head honchoe." nan replied. "yeah, okay, right." zoey rolled her eyes and smiled at nan as the three made there way down the hall together.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
Hey, past me from so close yet seeming long ago...
A knot from my sweater's bow I regret tying despite how unkempt the ribbons look hanging by my sides because now it's digging into my back
The hair I can't decide if I want out where it's pretty and makes me look less like a generic nerd yet gets in my face and food and life
The jeans I insist upon wearing without a belt even though their slipping down my **** may actually outweigh the pain of loosening the belt
The tennis shoes I'm too attached to give up that emit a constant squeak, squeak, squeaking through the hallways whether it's caused by residual rain from outside or not
The glasses, fond of slipping down my nose at frequent intervals, covered in smudges I rarely notice till they get out of hand
The phone whose screen happened to crack at the most inopportune moment and takes forever to read my finger print
The jacket that should be a highlighter blue but rather presents itself as a canvas of the week's tomato stains
The face covered in acne-
The stomach with fat instead of muscle-
The arms lacking muscle-
The legs with too much hair-
I've always acknowledged that perfection is not possible, yet I have to at least try to strive
I think, as I sit at my desk, fingers typing fragmented sentences, attempting to convey thoughts speeding too fast to grasp
Yet, just a simple poem of reflection brings to light these numerous deficiencies, many of which I COULD fix were it not the invisible fiend upon whom I stamp the label-laziness
These deficiencies, many of which aren't even noticed by those around me, some of whom are better some are worse
But it's not as simple as that, I've known I can't just be "one of the people", I need to find something, some identity, some way out of my seemingly impossible to escape label of "just above average"
In academics, in extracurricular activities, EVERYTHING, I seem to be at a stagnant
I've done bad, I've done "just above average", but never above. What is the point if you get plenty of losses and plenty of "fine" but no victories?
It's something about me though, somehow I believe, subconsciously, I'm impeding myself. I'm holding myself back.
...
Why?
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 3:50 PM UTC
***** girl problems.
Any text on a t-shirt?
Highlighter for ****
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
Normally this place is colder than a penguin's ****
But Holy Satan, it's steaming right now
And I'm sure it's not my cappuccino
Or the fact that i'm wearing a hoodie,
Must be (it is) the movement of your buttocks
Over there on the little wooden stage
That nobody uses except for sitting and
playing with those lame monster cards.
You and your friend, yeah, that one.
The girl that was on the table behind mine,
sneaking a peek at my iPad as it streamed
The Twilight Zone, the episode with the piano
That reveals what people hide in their souls
**** lucky that isn't here or
They'd call the cops on me for
Like ****** assault or something),
Began twerking randomly when you called her
And are still going at it, as if you're telling her lessons,
And i'm sitting here pretending to be paying attention
To Rod Serling's monologue intro
When really i'm looking at that popping shake.
Holy Satan! "Control yourself" I think
"Oh what's that? I don't remember
Having a highlighter marker in my pants.
Oh **** that's not it, ******* it."
And now you're showing your friend
How to seductively move that stomach,
This is bad (no, it's perfect),
You pulling your shirt up a bit
Above the belly button and doing that.
And how come i'm the only one here
Noticing this (besides your friends at the table).
I know the place is mostly empty but
It's a small space, it's easy to see this,
Yet these idiots are drooling over their
New Pokemon game; what the ******* hell?
When you've got the greatest show on campus
Going on right ******* there! I don't get it.
Am I like a perv or something? (Yes).
To the girl with the goddess body
Twerking all nerdishly and awesome
In the coffee shop:
Don't stop,
******* it.
Holy Satan,
Don't ever stop!
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
He had a bright yellow one, as yellow as a highlighter
I see them now and then on the highway and they stand out
like an important concept in a textbook, something to be taken note of
I rode in it once, and it was so clean, I felt like I could eat off the dashboard
and the doors were attached with the regular bolts and backpack shoulder strap material
which I have never figured out
and he looked even shorter, sinking into the seat, his longer legs stretched to the pedals
and his torso foreshortened and far away
and it was bouncy, and I was sure he could see my fat shake but I think that was the last thing on his mind.
We had dinner with another teacher, and his burrito arrived on his plate, and I felt like
I ate the inside of my taco salad and drank my beer and a few seconds passed and his plate
was empty and his eyes never seemed to leave me, not in a pleasant, admiring way
but with concern and fear, and attraction
and he finally burst forth in a flurry of worry about what would happen to the taco shell
would I eat it? take it? I should have offered it to him, but I can honestly say I've
never heard anyone so upset over a taco salad shell, and the waitress took it away
and I looked at him gently through my beer fog and he seemed to be pouting and squirming inside
On the way back he told me we had no future
At forty one the longest relationship he had had lasted three months
and clearly this one wouldn't work and I remember being confused
because I wasn't aware I had ever brought up a lasting bond
but it's true, I wanted his attention, his acceptance,
I felt so down, even losing a job I hated
and besides, he would leave all summer and not talk to anyone except his buddies
and those he met on the road
He was wiping the slate clean
I never liked him, only craved his attention and didn't enjoy it when
I rarely got it, and on my last day, which I worked hard to make happen
a little earlier than normal
I ran to him and hugged him and kissed his cheek
and it was not a high cheek bone and I cold feel five o'clock shadow,
and the wrinkles on his neck, his neck like a turtle's
and I begged him not to forget me, in a strange rush of madness
and he let out a cry of joy with the kiss
and said he wouldn't forget me, I was in his phone
It was like in Hebrew, where you say someone is "in" the phone, not "on" the phone
and I dreamt about going back to Israel that night, but not of him
He is somewhere with his buddies, in a bright red jeep
and I never really liked him
and can't this be the last time
I pursue and obsess over a man I don't even like
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
it’s 3 AM in the morning and my thoughts are wandering to the day when i finally meet the one that I’m going to marry
it will be Tuesday
i bet that i'll wake up 27 minutes late 'cause i spend the night before going out with my girls
i'll have too much gin and even drunk dialed my ex-boyfriend on my way home
the next morning, my head probably hurts like hell
i'll forget to put my highlighter on 'cause it's nowhere to be found
clock's ticking, i'll grab my favorite elephant heels and drive past the street
i'll stop by at my favorite coffee shop and you'll be arriving exactly 5 seconds before that
you'll open the door and hold it up for me,
i won't forget to say thank you
we'll order the same coffee and share a quick smile at the cashier
you'll smell like a sweet sunset
i'll notice your brown eyes, not knowing that i'll be looking at them everyday for the rest of my life
you'll share a bad joke to me, it is bad i must admit
but we'll laugh anyway and secretly hoping to see each other again the next day
and we will be
and the day after that
and everyday for the next two months
we will fall in love, easily
and i'll be grateful for waking up 27 minutes late that Tuesday morning
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 9:54 PM UTC
The days pass and
The dated squares
Accept their crosses and
It is not a relief to me
To finish another day
To check it off, as if
I were somehow
Impacting their passing—
Killing them with pink highlighter—
I am terrified of them
And I’m running away
From the wasted, twice-slashed
Past
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
You may think that you are a dull gray
Quite like heavy clouds that casts dark shadows
Or those ***** dusts you sweep out of the house
But I think
You're a yellow
Like the highlighter you use to study every night
You're a red
Like the big book you read on biochemistry
You're a purple
Like the rims of your thick glasses that people make fun of
You're an orange
Like the ball of this game you don't know how to play
You're a blue
Like the only pair of jeans you seem to have
You're a green
Like the lizard you keep in your room as a pet
You're amazing,
Fun, and full of surprises
And I won't allow you to think otherwise.
So please stop seeing yourself as
Someone who is
No one,
Boring, lame, uninteresting because
Your spirit is uniquely splattered with colors
And it never fails to brighten my day.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
You are the dab of butter melting
in my morning grits. The incessant flicker
from the candles glowing in my room.
You’re in that glass, the golden dancer
of bubbles tingling my nose and mouth.
As I approach that stop sign,
you’ll be that blinding bus,
at each street corner,
stealing my time even years after graduation.
Remembering as I do, you.
The highlighter that lit up my life.
So bold, and so brilliant.
Forget the other paragraphs,
yours were the only words that mattered.
It wasn’t until early on a Tuesday
the daily shift to morning from night.
Allowing a bright sun to greet us
as the moon planned its escape.
There you were, a stranger in my bed
Like a yolk surprise, cracked before my eyes,
I finally saw your true colors
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC
I love yellow.
The yellow blanket that accompanied him home from the hospital,
Wrapping up all the pride and joy in one bundle.
The yellow post-it notes that announced,
“I love you dad”
and stuck mysteriously in easily discovered locations.
A yellow highlighter that marked significant passages
in favorite books and important Bible verses
he liked to remember.
Yellow legal pads that recorded my poems
and stories that were inspired by him.
Yellow sneakers that ran the bases, stomped the puddles,
loped through high green grass as he befriended a yellow butterfly.
Yellow sneakers that ran after the yellow ball,
out into the busy, hateful street;
brought to a fatal halt by a drunk driver.
Yellow roses, sprayed across the tiny casket,
a shadow of their former cheerfulness.
Yellow dandelions, hanging their heads in the cold,
depressing rain;
missing those little yellow sneakers
that once danced around them.
A yellow oak leaf drifting down
on Autumn’s early chill,
floating to rest upon a small,
lonely grave.
I hate yellow.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 10:27 AM UTC
a thigh gap
a peering spine
a cat eye
a cerulean highlighter
all of this and more
all of this, yours
21 mind-blowing *** tricks
5 ways to convince your doc you've ADHD
all of this and more
hack your closet
hack your pantry
your cellar door
all of this, yours
an e-thank you note
Facebook status remorse
an it's complicated
all of this and more
self-checkout
automatic hand dryer
automatic towel dispenser
automatic doors
all of this, yours
ask Siri where to bury the body
ask Jeeves where to buy the Molly
Google "the triumph of death"
and salute it with Bacardi
all of this
all of this
42 celebrities who used to have braces
8 Instagram hotties we love
42 gin recipes sure to inspire envy
all of this and more
how to love yourself
how to be a gentleman
how to make sure you marry the one
all of this yours
******* that read Angel Off Duty
boxers that read Reporting for Duty
ride the escalator all the way to
Jesus's heaven
fist bump Little Richard
and that kid from Malcolm in the Middle
watch St. Peter wave all the **** sorority girls
who've recently died in drunk driving accidents
to the front of the line
breathe, in from the nose out from the nose,
pick up a copy of Men's Health and read
an article titled
69 ways to incorporate gravy into the bedroom TONIGHT
all of this and more
all of this, yours
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
Balance;
Balance is what we want
Balance is what we believe we want
Balance is what I believe we want because
Balance is what sows what we call imbalance
Imbalance is what we believe we hate
Imbalance is what we need though;
Balance is the writing
Imbalance is the highlighter
One can exist without the other
While the other’s reliance is desperate and sporadic;
Balance in its own right is imbalance
Imbalance is bred from balance
Imbalance is bred because we realize:
Imbalance is what we want
Balance is what we need
Both are interchangeable
Both create the never ending cycle that we call life;
Without imbalance, balance would be boring. And without balance, imbalance would cease to exist.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 9:31 PM UTC
whilst they chase us,
and murmur hymns 'neath swollen wings,
they guide us,
with beckon words.
for the birds of baby eyes,
and elderly minds,
they wish for and dream just as much as we,
and ask many questions 'neath--therein--night.
who are you?
who are we?
who are they?
who is may?
simplicity within sliver tongues,
and nocturne in starry eyes,
we learn,
and grow,
listening to the native tongues from the birds of age.
for they speak in rhyme,
and rhythm--you see,
and bless us with the ability.
highlighter eyes blind we,
our neon stoplights, we see,
our teacher--our father--our mentor,
that wishes we move as he does.
for he feeds us rats!
and breaks his very neck for our arrival,
'my child--my pupil--my daughter--my son--welcome'
ever he always,
'mind you--mind you--your eyes beg wonder--sleep waits not for the lazy!'
and with a hardy laugh he bellows, the wind whips its hair as pompously, and only then his feet grabs for our shirts as we soar.
with darkly snoozes,
and sickly snores,
our teacher--our father--our mentor,
cares for us dozens!
for our wings dance lots--dance lots!--midst the rocky blue sun,
and our hearts shriek with candy teeth,
at the earth swimming below our dusty feet,
and clouds preach hello in wonder.
for the twilight knows of many bodies,
of many hands,
of many feet,
of many faces,
for they look up and see moving paintbrushes 'ganist canvas!
and wish for many easels.
and the earth knows of many tired bodies,
that the night has sickened,
with drooping eyes,
and legs a-limpin',
for they become the elder too,
as they play it and earned it well.
and the night sky argues and blinks many,
and births a new globe all and of its own!
as the olden wings guide us,
and our beings ache the part,
with sliver tongues,
and nocturnal starry eyes,
whom sweeps us into Forevermore.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
you're my favorite book
pages worn and tear-stained
special moments dog-eared
quotes traced in bright yellow highlighter
notes scribbled in margins
spine torn and aging
cover bent and creased
stains and wrinkles spread throughout
you're my favorite book
I've read you at least one hundred times
I recommend you to my friends over coffee
but only to those who'd appreciate you
only a certain type of mind can appreciate you
understand all your themes and moods
understand the author's ideas and plans
and laugh at all the right moments
you're my favorite book
I carry you in my messenger bag everywhere I go
and I love the way you smell like nostalgia
and that page 46 still has a hot chocolate stain from that one camping trip
where I read you by lantern light under a heavy sleeping bag
and I love the way you feel in my hands
you're my favorite book
but that doesn't mean I don't read others sometimes I'll read another to find it's awful
other times quite fantastic
with battles that make you sweat
and deaths that make you cry
but none of them are you
you're my favorite book
and I suppose you always will be
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
No boy will ever
want to **** me
if I forget
to put on makeup
in the mornings
lips red as Eve's forbidden fruit
succulent enough to
bite
tongue
devour
go down
cuz my nose don't
look so My-Big-Fat-Greek-Wedding
mountainous-side-profile
when it's caked in highlighter
if I have short hair
because short hair means
I'll look too masculine
in the ninth grade I
had a pixie cut
faith
trust
pixie dust
I could feel
my light burning out
(I never did believe in myself)
if I'm not thin
starve
binge
purge
two finger diet
VSCO diet
have you seen
the lovely girls
on the internet
in their
tight bodysuits
Coke Zero
figures
MVP
VIP
they'll get first access
to his ****
if I'm a *****
cuz how will anyone know
what you've really
got to flaunt
when you have to wear
a uniform to school
frumpy plaid kilt
white polo shirt
every button a barrier
like the notches
on his belt
tie coiled
a noose
around your neck
every casual day
I wear fishnet stockings
***** necklines
with push up bras
even though
I'm already a D
cuz I gotta get that D
gotta compensate
for being a ****** somehow
if I don't shave my
legs
stomach
*****
three days before high school graduation
I bought a thong
and got my first Brazilian wax
even though I didn't have
still don't have
a boyfriend
but I wanted him
to be my boyfriend
thought I should be prepared
thought maybe when he saw me
clad in
cleavage
periwinkle
floor-length gown
blue Converse peeking out
from underneath the tulle
I'd be his
Belle of the Ball
that he'd
take me
**** me
love me
but how could any boy
ever love me
in all of my
warped-perspective
grief-possessive
passive-aggressive
self-obsessive
manic-depressive
glory
how could any boy
ever love me
after reading
this poem?
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
yellow, fellow
some colors make me happy
bananas are yellow,
rich in potassium
yellow, fellow
maybe my second favorite, currently
#ffed67
#ffe345
#ffef39
#fff200
graceful like a duck
a taxi in a rainy urban area
the morning omelette
the sponge of my childhood, soaking up my happiness
the sun that grants me some radiance
cheese
cheese
cheese
the corn of the country side, butter n' all
like highlighter on PSSA preps, third grade
"it all must be important"
daffodil, nostalgia
mac n' cheese
mac n' cheese
mac n' cheese
banana peppers
yellow buttons
the school bus that takes me away
yellow duckie
daisies
french fry
juicy fruit
phone book
raincoat
yellow, my fellow
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC
My imaginary friend climbs into bed with me and whispers in my ear every time I try to sleep. We dress in night-time: pull on black stockings, snap them around half-moon thighs.
We ladder the sky
and splinter our spines.
There are things we don't talk about (because we are the gaps between reality that still believe in selkes and Cornish piskies)
but for years we have been panning for dreams.
Doubt burns like fuse-wires but God sometimes freezes the electricity.
She crosses her fingers when she promises to believe. (That's the bargain). She talks to Him each hour
but He never replies
and she is so used to being doted on.
We pretend we are dead.
Just for tonight.
She doesn't think she matters:
mourning for the moon - her halo of humidity.
She traces the clouds' edges with highlighter.
I balance her morning-massacre mind with the inaugural thrum of a threatening migraine. I am not used to her megaphone chest and she forces our Scorpio symphony down my throat like an over-active heartbeat. (That's what frightens God).
She told me not to stick quills to my back,
said the weight of wings would only weigh me down.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
A B C D E F G
find out what you mean to me
if you don't, i don't care,
i'll pull down your underwear
H I J K L M N
i think you'll always be
my best friend
and really, who cares
if you're a man?
we drew our cooties pink
with a highlighter pen
we painted our faces
with turquoise and yellow
& really, your brown eyes are
gorgeous, fellow,
we sat in the sand and built
columns out of leaves,
& wore our crowns like
daisy weaves
O P Q R S T
you make up most of me
with your smiles, your laugh,
your hair, your ears,
our marijuana and our beers,
as we grow older,
our hair grows longer,
& we don't care to cut it
because it feels good knotted
in the summer
U V W X Y Z
we make cookies at night
and pick up bugs in the grass,
we hold hands on the road
our feet like moon rays stroking brass.
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 10:45 PM UTC
~
Maps are folded and re-folded into pocket sized
destinations of our own heart’s desires
Routes become numbers and numbers become moments
as the planning cycle, with yellow highlighter in hand,
presents a “look forward to” scenario
Well beyond windows of curtained belief
and hedges shaped like poetic scribblings calling to me
The sidewalk of chalk marks in hopscotch etchings,
faded from the sun and foot smeared play dates,
leads to that place of affection filled dreams
and I see over the next sunrise a highway,
empty of detours and beckoning Winnebago wanderings
to this heart, from another, on windswept invitations
penned in frilly fonts and colors of imagination,
reaching deeply inside and holding tightly
A glance back at what is left behind brings a smile,
for what waits ahead is now everything new
In the grand scheme of things, what is found chiseled in fate
proves that destiny is a destination of dreams, of hopes and
of love… . when that journey brings me to you
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
And then I write the letters,
kindly,
on a glossy paper
using the tip
of a good old highlighter.
But the aim will taste
only what’s vain
- that I know.
Because the aim is
to leave
a permanent mark.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
Hanging in the orchid room
some smoke from someone's
clover leaf traffic jam
and disappearing words in
highlighter yellow scream
out from behind your eyelids
thinking, a memory, past fear
I don't know what to tell you
except that she's gone
and you've been sitting in
the same spot for three or four
hours and the ceiling is
falling around you
She only sleeps in specific
increments and watches
her feet, dangling off the side
of the tallest building she
can find, sweat dripping
through the marine layer below.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
My lips weren’t made for kissing.
I fear they’ve forgotten how, most times
It’s been years
since I practiced
speaking the language
of bodies
of heated palms and parted lips
of skin on skin
Would you be willing to relearn with me?
Spend long nights with
our heads bowed over foreign text books
I promise to add
my knowledge to yours
if you promise to stroke
my spine
to whisper and gasp this language
as it comes back to me
I’ve never pulled an all-nighter
to study a subject
but I swear
that to learn this language
I’ll meet with you
every night
like there’s an exam the next day
I’ll spend hours on each sound
whole days on single words
mouthing my way
until I’ve memorized
that week’s vocabulary
then go just a bit longer,
never hurts to be sure,
just in case I’ve missed something
I’ll use my tongue as a highlighter
brightening spots
I never want to forget
with color that rises
from beneath your skin
and revisit them often
to make sure
they stick in my memory
And when we need to run through the lists
we can press our lips
together
(to make sure we’re
pronouncing it right)
We may even
have to keep it up
for hours
to get the whole list right
until we’re perfectly in sync.
Everyone knows it takes years
to learn a new language
but I’d sacrifice decades
to be fluent
in you.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
Love is turning the lights on then off again.
Love is polishing the knives and forks and spoons.
Love is wishing you were there, not here.
Love is pushing doors open and gently closing them.
Love is friendship set to music.
Love is youthful springtime.
Love is ripped stockings and black lace.
Love is blue highlighter on your cheek.
Love is old comic books collecting dust.
Love is silent exhales.
Love is, love is, love is...
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
Euphoria began with brown paper packages and orange highlighter
Inside was a book of centuries over a century old
with pages thin and browning and filled with age
in the next string-tied parcel, tea. an ounce or so of
loose leaf chamomile and two different
bags. One bombay chai.
The string was tugged and an opening formed, spilling tea leaves like my worries scattered.
I got up and hugged him, and by god he hugged me back.
He hugs just right.
Tight, long, and swaying a bit.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC