"micronesia" poems - Hello Poetry

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Dec 21, 2019

Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC

maxneumann

The World NEEDS HelloPoetry (Please Make A Contribution.)

196

~~Overwhelmed by the raw talent and emotion with which my students think and feel and write. Thank you, A.N.--Chuukese woman~~ Early in the morning When the dark cloud covers the light And hides my brother from seeing the light I woke up along shocking news That glazed my face with sadness Brought tears to my eyes I heard an awful voice Coming from the mangroves Just right after my brother Hung himself with a thin rope The voice said that He had to find a hat Before Uncle Priston Forced him to drink the poison I smell his perfume When I start to feel the pain In my heart I feel the cold air When he appears in my dreams And he touches me with his cold hands Apologizes to me We cry to each other Among the mangrove trees Hugging each other Talking about the truth I lost his warm hands And his warm heart That blocked the cold air From entering our house His love and his memory will not be forgotten But I hide it in a secret place Because his love was exactly like a fire That makes the people feel warm As they come closer by A.N. representing Chuuk, Federated States of Micronesia

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Nov 14, 2013

Nov 14, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC

vince-chultheg

Saying Goodbyes

~~Overwhelmed by the raw talent and emotion with which my students think and feel and write. Thank you, A.N.--Chuukese woman~~ Early in the morning When the dark cloud covers the light And hides my brother from seeing the light I woke up along shocking news That glazed my face with sadness Brought tears to my eyes I heard an awful voice Coming from the mangroves Just right after my brother Hung himself with a thin rope The voice said that He had to find a hat Before Uncle Priston Forced him to drink the poison I smell his perfume When I start to feel the pain In my heart I feel the cold air When he appears in my dreams And he touches me with his cold hands Apologizes to me We cry to each other Among the mangrove trees Hugging each other Talking about the truth I lost his warm hands And his warm heart That blocked the cold air From entering our house His love and his memory will not be forgotten But I hide it in a secret place Because his love was exactly like a fire That makes the people feel warm As they come closer by A.N. representing Chuuk, Federated States of Micronesia

37

He kept trying Over, and Over, and Over To take Her home Being a good ********* Grew tiresome the more I Drank He started to beg Me Because I never leave her alone Not even on One-night-stands I kept telling him He is a **** Shut up One last time: Erin, come on! **** no!" "I'll make you a grilled cheese." "Yes!, let's go!" I slept on the couch His bathroom vanity Is filled with anti-balding Creams Maybe his insecurities Are a part of his Slutiness ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I miss Micronesia food I wanna eat gross ramen Greasy **** in a ***** bowl Went to the grocery store with Jesse: "find the cheapest **** White rice I ate four bowls of it So good **** yes! The kids used to fight Knock each other around Scrounging Over ***** of white rice Even the four day old Rotten ones Because they were always better Than the rotten boiled bananas She thinks to herself: "Nothing will ever Be this fun again" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The girls I teach with are nice But I don't have a white-collar Sense of humor My humor is filthy So I stay quiet People at work don't know How funny I am Seven of them are pregnant right now We'll be ******* in a few months They talk about how there feet Grow as their pregnancies progress ******* fascinating My closest friend there in the Kindergarten pod doesn't drink So we only get so far

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Nov 20, 2013

Nov 20, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC

vince-chultheg

What Erin Just Said (Part II) -- Post Peace Corps Comments from Oklahoma

He kept trying Over, and Over, and Over To take Her home Being a good ********* Grew tiresome the more I Drank He started to beg Me Because I never leave her alone Not even on One-night-stands I kept telling him He is a **** Shut up One last time: Erin, come on! **** no!" "I'll make you a grilled cheese." "Yes!, let's go!" I slept on the couch His bathroom vanity Is filled with anti-balding Creams Maybe his insecurities Are a part of his Slutiness ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I miss Micronesia food I wanna eat gross ramen Greasy **** in a ***** bowl Went to the grocery store with Jesse: "find the cheapest **** White rice I ate four bowls of it So good **** yes! The kids used to fight Knock each other around Scrounging Over ***** of white rice Even the four day old Rotten ones Because they were always better Than the rotten boiled bananas She thinks to herself: "Nothing will ever Be this fun again" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The girls I teach with are nice But I don't have a white-collar Sense of humor My humor is filthy So I stay quiet People at work don't know How funny I am Seven of them are pregnant right now We'll be ******* in a few months They talk about how there feet Grow as their pregnancies progress ******* fascinating My closest friend there in the Kindergarten pod doesn't drink So we only get so far

62

I've never had many Problems with history class most of it's pretty interesting And I find it easy to pass But the one thing I don't get The one thing I cannot see Is why an American high school Has this curriculum of eurocentricity We spent three full months On ancient Greece and Rome And less than a week On the Ottomans' home We spent one month On Europe's rebirth And exactly zero days On Muslim scholars who changed the earth We spent two full days On the palace of Versailles And not a single class On Mali or Songhai One month passed With European exploration But not a word was uttered Of Timbuktu's nation And don't get me started On Aborigines or Micronesia In Asia, China and India aside, You'd think the teacher had amnesia What I'd really like to know Is why our curriculum Spends most of the year On all things European In this melting *** That we call America It seems that our lesson plans Need to be a bit fairer

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Jun 14, 2016

Jun 14, 2016 at 10:18 PM UTC

breeze-mist

Eurocentricity

I've never had many Problems with history class most of it's pretty interesting And I find it easy to pass But the one thing I don't get The one thing I cannot see Is why an American high school Has this curriculum of eurocentricity We spent three full months On ancient Greece and Rome And less than a week On the Ottomans' home We spent one month On Europe's rebirth And exactly zero days On Muslim scholars who changed the earth We spent two full days On the palace of Versailles And not a single class On Mali or Songhai One month passed With European exploration But not a word was uttered Of Timbuktu's nation And don't get me started On Aborigines or Micronesia In Asia, China and India aside, You'd think the teacher had amnesia What I'd really like to know Is why our curriculum Spends most of the year On all things European In this melting *** That we call America It seems that our lesson plans Need to be a bit fairer

36

I have never (and hopefully never will be again) Secretly in such deep Love with someone Piano, guitar, trumpet, drums, voice Brilliant in his ability To absorb knowledge His mind a sponge Consistently chill Not easily riled Persistently positive And funny When we met I was An overweight, ****** Textbook closet case Face in textbooks Eating and smoking To fill the void I’d find any reason at all To spend time with him Tennis? Sure!, Let’s go! Dinner out? Who’s driving? Monty Hall Piano Room? Let me spark this joint first. What’s worse was that I Loved (and still love and adore) His then girlfriend And so it was this strange Situation where I loved The couple, was secretly Obsessed with the boy And so jealous of the girl But I was too ashamed and Self-aware to be nasty to her Because it wasn’t her fault Shame so locked in my marrow I couldn’t even project The insecurity it created Cristo and Lirah Would go out for a romantic Dinner and I’d feel More alone in those moments Than any other So I’d smoke and do school work Or walk through the woods with Nayla Or go eat with Jireh ~~~ Side bar: So it turned out that Jireh had a big ‘ol thing for me I was so blind because Of my behavioral asexuality ‘Locked in’ gayness Love for Cristo I may have led her on for like, years. That’s ****** And John had a thing for Jireh Weird love non-triangles All over the ******* place - - - We drank so much I remember drinking every day for The last month of my junior year In WC14 Movie night? Word: White Russians Pair well with Bladerunner My shame was so strong that Even when I was blacked out (Or nearly blacked out) I could still use a Treuschler Bathroom to **** Then stare at myself in the mirror And be disgusted with my Own reflection “You love him. You love Cristo.” “You’re ******* gay, bro.” “SAY IT. " "TO ANYONE.” . . . ******* coward.” Shame slicing right Through the shitfacedness For self chastisement - - - I told him I was gay At a club in Baltimore a few days Before I left for Micronesia He said: “Where are we going for your send off?” I said: “The Hippo.” He said: “You know that’s a gay bar, right?” “Yeah, man. It’s cool.” I told him after returning from Peace Corps That I’d been in love With him in our college Years Cool, collected and responsive As usual, he said: “Thank you.”

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Feb 11, 2017

Feb 11, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC

vince-chultheg

Cristo

I have never (and hopefully never will be again) Secretly in such deep Love with someone Piano, guitar, trumpet, drums, voice Brilliant in his ability To absorb knowledge His mind a sponge Consistently chill Not easily riled Persistently positive And funny When we met I was An overweight, ****** Textbook closet case Face in textbooks Eating and smoking To fill the void I’d find any reason at all To spend time with him Tennis? Sure!, Let’s go! Dinner out? Who’s driving? Monty Hall Piano Room? Let me spark this joint first. What’s worse was that I Loved (and still love and adore) His then girlfriend And so it was this strange Situation where I loved The couple, was secretly Obsessed with the boy And so jealous of the girl But I was too ashamed and Self-aware to be nasty to her Because it wasn’t her fault Shame so locked in my marrow I couldn’t even project The insecurity it created Cristo and Lirah Would go out for a romantic Dinner and I’d feel More alone in those moments Than any other So I’d smoke and do school work Or walk through the woods with Nayla Or go eat with Jireh ~~~ Side bar: So it turned out that Jireh had a big ‘ol thing for me I was so blind because Of my behavioral asexuality ‘Locked in’ gayness Love for Cristo I may have led her on for like, years. That’s ****** And John had a thing for Jireh Weird love non-triangles All over the ******* place - - - We drank so much I remember drinking every day for The last month of my junior year In WC14 Movie night? Word: White Russians Pair well with Bladerunner My shame was so strong that Even when I was blacked out (Or nearly blacked out) I could still use a Treuschler Bathroom to **** Then stare at myself in the mirror And be disgusted with my Own reflection “You love him. You love Cristo.” “You’re ******* gay, bro.” “SAY IT. " "TO ANYONE.” . . . ******* coward.” Shame slicing right Through the shitfacedness For self chastisement - - - I told him I was gay At a club in Baltimore a few days Before I left for Micronesia He said: “Where are we going for your send off?” I said: “The Hippo.” He said: “You know that’s a gay bar, right?” “Yeah, man. It’s cool.” I told him after returning from Peace Corps That I’d been in love With him in our college Years Cool, collected and responsive As usual, he said: “Thank you.”

105

Globe A globe would be nice By this open window Morning pushing in on the hip Of spring, warm from slow Dancing against the screen Straining the grating weave Sifting down on the table Settling on the milky lens of my coffee Feathered in delicate drifts Outline of a hand The one I’m waving In the air in a way Robins might mistake For dismissiveness Viewed from the teeming lawn Unaware of this imaginary globe I spin unabashedly Blister of the Atlas Mountains Scattered braille of Micronesia Over and over, again and again Beneath the palm of my hand Haiphong Harbor Hot on the heels of sprinting Havana The world in seamless rotation On the table of a minor god Eyes closed waiting for you To come round again, finger Poised and aching above A lonely blue planet.

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Sep 29, 2016

Sep 29, 2016 at 7:24 AM UTC

dave-hardin

Globe

Globe A globe would be nice By this open window Morning pushing in on the hip Of spring, warm from slow Dancing against the screen Straining the grating weave Sifting down on the table Settling on the milky lens of my coffee Feathered in delicate drifts Outline of a hand The one I’m waving In the air in a way Robins might mistake For dismissiveness Viewed from the teeming lawn Unaware of this imaginary globe I spin unabashedly Blister of the Atlas Mountains Scattered braille of Micronesia Over and over, again and again Beneath the palm of my hand Haiphong Harbor Hot on the heels of sprinting Havana The world in seamless rotation On the table of a minor god Eyes closed waiting for you To come round again, finger Poised and aching above A lonely blue planet.

30