"spf" poems
All she wanted her horoscope to give her
was a sock-foot cozy kind of relationship.
One that wore SPF 30 and smelled of sugar candy.
That would have been just fine.
Instead she got a surprise pancakes kind of beast.
Bear hugs, dog kisses, ***********
sumptuous battles, book aisles, 2am feast
and little silver spoon in the middle night.
We never made it to the papers,
so we built a patch-quilt nest.
The quirky loving is alright,
you dress me in my Sunday best.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
is what i wear.
it is a loreal campaign offering the art of concealment
wrinkles are for unironed clothes and old folk homes
all creation and destruction spun from tomb
the glow emanating from a woman's womb
this spf
isn't always available for the wear
its not some cap we can slip on our hair
or the glasses we use to hide the despair
for our pimples have awoken from
their nightly slumber
allowing the light to
illuminate their number
best we take it all in
the midnight pukes
and
the morning glow
lets carry on with our dancing dynamo
all starry eyed and audacious
all messy and pugnacious
with our lips soaked in red
shouting words of poetic gibberish
to statuesque lovers
who spin in and out of the revolving door
as we sing our tune under helmets
under bleeding stars
and wind up with tattooed legs and arms
for there is a radiant rose in your brain
permanently blooming
against the ticking of time
as you stand in alliance
with lust and love alike
when they conveniently misplaced their pain
at the local bookstore
i can't imagine they'll go looking for it.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
First sun-warmed sand
First boots-and-socks-off beach
First ankle-deep stand in rushing water
First SPF rubbed on my face
First crocus pops up in the yard
(Delicately)
Nearby, a young father begins
to teach his toddling young
how to fish.
(Patiently)
Last high-country snowshoe
Last low-country woodstove fire
Last hot bourbon toddy
Last dreamy days of Pisces
Last longing for lost love melts away
(Finally.)
Early over the mountain
the nearly-but-not-yet worm moon
spies the confluence and I below.
(Knowingly)
Here at the place where things change,
the wild world fills me
and I devote myself once more.
(Wholly)
For one who is in love with the chase
And the glory of all things yet-to-be done,
The true rapture of Nature is in knowing
She is too Big, Wild, and Free to own.
(Like me.)
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 1:31 AM UTC
All I want's a man
To take me out to coffee, that costs too much
Impulsive midnight Wendy's runs
With the alter ego of a natural bed of hair, of which
He is actually obsessed
And will look in anything reflective
Longs for the ocean
But doesn't spend a moment in the water
Wants the sun to warm his skin
But bathes in a bottle of SPF 80
'Cause he knows I'll warm him from within
I won't call our love hotter than the summer we spent
Our temperatures fluctuated faster than the seasons themselves
But we always dressed appropriately
Bundled or shed accordingly
Just to spend our time in the other's climate
Mid-day munchies conquer us both
In different states of mind
Let's hike somewhere
Let's sight-see
Spend somewhere out of your house
Let's take a run at Royal River
Lose hairpins you will keep
Let's spend each waking second together
And in our dreams, while we're asleep
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
rotting horse carcass.
green glowing filament by moonlight ******
& mistrust us.
radioactive drums of waste &/or dreams.
boys swimming.
fistfights at night
by headlight & tooth crackle. (spit) then bonfire pallets
lit & danced upon.
plumes
of gas-can outcries.
the days & abuelitas
& ghosts
pinched cheek - pinched cooler - grandaddy
on the grill.
his gasping yellow dogs.
judy is in the underbrush with a walkie-talkie
& a p.b.j.
desmond leaps from high rocks; he
descends into another world by way of molecular-mishap.
dove deep.
riding the portal boar.
wasps hover above spilt wine
& declare war upon brothers with b.b. guns
& firecrackers
& spf 50+. the saturday/sunday sagas
between beams of heat laughter breakdowns
to knees, to bees,
honey.
homecoming queen dead & wrapped
in plastic.
body found with
turtle bites.
fungi.
the slabs of granite.
old iron tractors bent & held by tree wives.
toast.
jam hewn hwedges of crisped bread.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:34 AM UTC
So That Others May Live
My son and I go down to the beach today
And lay claim to a small square of sand
Where we ***** a blue plantation of shade
Inside a red umbrella city founded by dermatologists.
Slow cooking like a pair of pork chops basted in SPF 30
He reads a Jack Reacher novel, myself the LA Times
Occasionally, he looks up from his book and shares a passage:
How about I show you the inside of an ambulance?
The girlfriend his from Kentucky has never been to the beach
She is ensconced in the best chair eating watermelon
Reading poetry by Rupi Kaur god bless her
She should have the best seat if she’s reading poetry.
People form Iowa and Minnesota you know the ones
In the parcel of sand between us and the ocean
Have lain towels and blankets far too near the tide line and
Come noon we enjoy their Midwestern diaspora to higher ground.
We body surf in waves that are bigger than they look
He wears the right fin and I wear the left
I bounce off the bottom and get my *** sand papered
Then tumble into him like a forgotten dollar bill in a wash machine.
In the parking lot laughing and spitting salt water
I pour a bucket of sand out of my wetsuit onto the hot asphalt
And realize it will never be this way again and it won’t
The lines in his face a perfect nautical map of the future.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 12:31 AM UTC
SPF 40,
cheap sunglasses,
Alcohol
when you shouldn't drink,
a weekend all season long,
until the pools close
until you lose
your sunglasses,
until you wake up
on your back
in your back yard,
blanketed by red, yellow
and orange
leaves
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Sunshine boys
Smiles shining brightly
So pretty to look at
Laughing at the simple and silly things like young boys
Music to my ears
Dimples and reddened cheeks
They radiate a special warmth
A warmth that could make anyone feel special
But sometimes that warmth gets hotter and hotter
As I get closer and closer
And my heart starts beating faster and faster
I’m so close it hurts
I touch you
It burns
My skin is melting and I can’t breathe
You see that’s how it is with sunshine boys
So pretty and bright and warm
You wanna stare at them and feel they’re warmth all day long
But they’re meant to be enjoyed from afar
Get too close and you’ll be burned to the bone
For being too selfish
For trying to keep the sun for yourself
So I’ll remain on the ground
With my sunhat and spf
Enjoying the sunshine boys
From afar
Mar 29, 2021
Mar 29, 2021 at 12:02 AM UTC
She tries to be a rainbow
But is a pencil-written note.
She tries to be a roar
But is the clearing of a throat.
She tries to be a hurricane
But is the beaded dew at dawn.
She tries to be red lipstick
But is SPF 4 lip balm.
She tries to be a wink
But is averted eyes.
She tries to be a roar
But ends up as a sigh.
She tries to be a flower garden
But is a single petal.
She tries to be gold jewelry
But feels like rusted metal.
She tries to be the ocean
But is the gravel on which it rests.
She tries to be a roar
But is a mumble under breath.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 9:45 PM UTC
Deprived of limbs
but showered with extremities
i am left to cure my illnesses
you have brought them upon me
you smell like spf
and summer
pressed powder
and scalp
you are obtuse
when embracing
i am your clone
opposite beginnings
surely unwanted
same endings
i will fix myself
before I am my
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
When did you
Become the sun?
So warm and inviting at first
And then when I went
To hold you close
So that I would never again
Feel the cold in my bones,
I found out you were
93 million miles away,
But you still burned through me
Melting my defenses
SPF 90 couldn't block you out,
And I could see
Your reflection even at night,
Teasing me,
Tried to squish you out with my thumb
And I slept
Thinking you would never come
But you do again,
Just as intense
As the day before,
Though clouds get in the way
And I'm deprived again
I don't dare lose hope
For your absence
Will be short
Lest I die frozen abandoned
But I would never know...
APAD13 -123 © okpoet
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
When the ocean broke,
I asked if the hurricane current in our mouths would disappear.
She told me “Hopefully never.”
I asked her why
and she replied with “because this will be the only chance
we can swim unforgivably under thunderstorm skies.”
I haven’t touched the sand
scratching the rocking boat in my throat in two years
for fear of throwing up seaweed I keep telling my friends is courage.
They call it whiskey breath and cigarettes.
I call it being misunderstood. I
forgot what summer skin tasted like
but I can remember the smell of sunscreen and her hair.
It’s a sunburned scar everyone winds up leaving on my shoulders,
they tell me to always apply spf 50
as if it’s my fault I’ve only walked on eggshells for 23 years.
No one likes a person with capabilities of expressing how they feel.
It’s like taking a shower with a tshirt on, a layer of
an outer skin that’s entirely not mine changing the
hue of my pink skin to a shade that’s “flattering” for my “figure”.
When I was a little girl the only thing I wanted was to
run wildly through the jungles of red thread carpet naked,
completely aware of how obscene I would look but **** I was fierce,
shy around everyone but myself,
unapologetic for the romance conducted in my head,
I should have ran an orchestra, leading the rhythm of my soul around the bones of Little Me.
It would have been beautiful but instead I let the
pieces of my spine
break in sprinkles dusting cupcakes
I would throw away when no one was looking.
It was like I was afraid of the thick frosting sticking to the walls of my
throat like peanut butter,
or words when I’ve lost myself in the theory and potential of someone
I desperately want to love.
The only time you accept yourself is when there is someone else
holding you at night because your breathing is matched with
someone who doesn’t understand why you reached for a
cigarette in the first place.
I do not understand myself.
And that is entirely okay as long as I am laying naked,
under July sun,
covered in Long Beach Island sand screaming I am sorry
for the little girl I had been and how very different I am now.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
you once were my sun -
even on the clearest of the days,
i would use the lowest SPF
just to soak up all your rays
i once was your shade -
to cool you when you got too heated
i welcome you with a place of rest
for when you felt defeated
you once were my mirror -
anything i wore, said, or did i do
was with the intent of showing
that i truly cared for you
but it's on the clearest days
to our eyes, the heat does sabotage
you knew, gladly acting as the sun,
but it took me longer to figure out -
that i had fallen for a mirage
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 1:50 AM UTC
The last three weeks have been a seemingly endless series of welcome parties, get-togethers, receptions, meet-and-greets and cocktail parties - every kind of cheesy or ostentatious soirée my Grandmère can throw together, she’s dragged me to. It’s hard to match her energy.
“You have to meet people,” she insists, “and they have to meet YOU.”
“And why?” I asked, eloquently, but there’s no use resisting - she’s tireless.
The Prime Minister of France - met him. The mayor of Paris, met him, the CEOs of Paribas, L’Oréal, TotalEnergies, AXA, met them, the ministers of the economy, interior and foreign affairs - met ‘em. The US ambassador to France, met him.
In the play “My Fair Lady,” Eliza, meeting people frantically at the races, repeats “How do you do,” over and over and over to great comedic effect. That’s how I feel at these parties, “Enchanté, enchanté, enchanté, enchanté, enchanté.” I say, turning in circles. I’ve met Emmanuel Macron before, but I’m sure I’ll be seeing him again soon. I haven’t met his wife though - I’d love to ask her about that slap.. hhmm.
At these events she’s made sure that I’ve met anyone who’s anyone at Université Paris Cité. Is that surprising? No, because that’s how crazy-lady operates. “You meet everyone, eye-to-eye,” she lectures, “you have to get out of your bubble, and experience the world as interesting,”
That’s her favorite saying these days. “I don’t HAVE a bubble,” I replied, defensively, but she’s left the room - she’s never still. She seems to know we’re on the clock, that once med-school starts, (in September) I’m going to be all about that.
It’s Monday morning. I’ve been at the Shangri-La hotel pool, where we have full privileges, and I’m coated, like a potato, head to foot, with SPF 50 sunscreen - when who shows up?
Peter (my bf). “You’re early!” I say, not at all displeased, but I’m SO conscious of my tacky skin and chemical smell that I face-palm him as he comes in for a snog.
EEuuww. I can’t make-out with a guy when I’m all greased up.
“5 minutes,” I assured him, heading for the shower.
“I’ll join you,” he offered.
“Well, ok,” I chuckle.
.
.
Songs for this:
Better Days by NEIKED, Mae Muller & Polo G
This Girl by Kungs & Cookin' On 3 Burners
Cake By The Ocean by DNCE [E]
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 7:03 AM UTC
Overcast today
Cloud's eyes watching me again
Rain on me, ill stay.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
The purpose of your glow can be the rope to your shadow.
Your flair from the pack will often land you on your back.
Your passion is a gift and one I admire.
Don’t let it consume you…that burn becomes fire.
Take the lid off the *** so the steam may go higher
before you boil a knot that can never transpire.
The air around, you are forever connected
from an endless bound to a sun that’s neglected.
The moment I saw, a reason detected.
I tried to ignore, then the season corrected.
The spf on your lips, may protect you from liars
but in your own eclipse, to the wind go the fires.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
He said, “ please don’t be too dark tonight”. But I’ve never seen the morning. I’ve never felt the light hit my pupils, I’ve never dilated my emotions to see the happiness lying beneath. I don’t know about sun rises or sun glasses and extra spf. I know about flashlights without batteries and nights that never end. I know about the grief that has always been too much for your Wednesday midday brunch soul.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 1:43 AM UTC
summertime quarantine
an infectious summer
vaccinated by its rays of semi-life evoking sunlight
lathered in a thin sheet of SPF
Stating
Perspicacious
Features
those eyes glazed,
window sill eye lashes
her window i saw ever so gracefully
but a window only shows the frontal view .
i want to observe every latitudinal angle
and beyond the periphery of my peripherals.
i'm always in social isolation when my eyes are locked in with yours.
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 12:04 AM UTC
You were the chocolate sprinkles on my soft serve.
Burrowing into my chest like a sandcrab melting through saltwater and ocean city sand.
Fading into my body, until we became one gooey sticky sweet mess.
Such a beautiful summertime massacre.
I prefer the mountains in June. A cool evergreen breeze sighing through my buzzcut season.
This is what true royalty feels like, to sleep forever under the pines. A place we wanted to grow.
I shaved my head because I’m not yours anymore. Or theirs. I belong to my own shallow grave. So please, do not call me princess.
Disney did not forget to write my story, he was too busy creating women no one would ever receive.
My life has never gone according to plan, stopped praying before bed for my fairytale to fruition.
I created myself. A handsome hairless heroine. The tallest trunk at the peak.
Only faith I have left is in my own photosynthetic cells.
Feeling still a lingering winter. SPF cannot protect me from my own emotions.
I don’t need it to anymore.
Looking down at you from miles away like that man from lilo and stitch.
Sunburnt and confused.
Black sprinkles and ants slow dance on the concrete in my giant sugary shadow.
I wonder do the ***** still bury their troubles? I haven’t been to the beach in years.
You haven’t considered these sappy limbs a place to call home since then.
I always have and I always will.
Jun 12, 2022
Jun 12, 2022 at 2:35 AM UTC