"willa" poems
Her skin is a creamy vanilla
She lies beneath a tree, it's a willa
Her eyes like two deep pools of chocolate that you could get lost in.
She looks different from others, but she's just like us within.
She unravels her beautiful bantu knots
She let her natural, ***** thick curls go
Just like the wind, she goes with the flow
But something that's more beautiful than her, ....are her beautiful thoughts
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 8:53 AM UTC
( Knock, knock. )
Hey, can I come in?
Hello, yes of course. Would you like any tea or water?
No thanks.
Ok. So how was your week?
Fine, I suppose. Actually now that I think about 60/40 on the ****** scale.
Explain.
I don't know, I've been dating this girl for a while now and it doesn't feel like it's going anywhere.
Andi?
(Cough.) Yeah.
Hmm, I thought things were going well with her. Can you explain your feelings a little bit more?
I guess I'm feeling like she likes me, just not enough.
What do mean not enough?
I mean she likes me but it feels like i'm just somebody to occupy her time until finds someone who is what she really wants. And I'm not sure if she's what I want either... I don't know.
Hmm, that sounds frustrating. Are you sure your not just misreading her? I mean, everybody has a different dating style.
That could be that i'm just reading into it too much but she's kinda flakey and if you ask me, thats a good way to tell how much they like someone.
Not always, but I understand how you feel. Maybe you should consider asking her how she feels?
I don't think I'm at that point yet. The thing is, sometimes we have a lot fun. I guess i'm just confused.
Dating is hard. It takes a lot of courage.
I suppose. I just want to find someone that makes me as good as willa used to.
I know, but I don't think it does you any good to focus your past relationships.
Yeah... I know. Can we talk about something else?
End
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
Wild Dreams Of A New Beginning
There's a breathless hush on the freeway tonight
Beyond the ledges of concrete
restaurants fall into dreams
with candlelight couples
Lost Alexandria still burns
in a billion lightbulbs
Lives cross lives
idling at stoplights
Beyond the cloverleaf turnoffs
'Souls eat souls in the general emptiness'
A piano concerto comes out a kitchen window
A yogi speaks at Ojai
'It's all taking pace in one mind'
On the lawn among the trees
lovers are listening
for the master to tell them they are one
with the universe
Eyes smell flowers and become them
There's a deathless hush
on the freeway tonight
as a Pacific tidal wave a mile high
sweeps in
Los Angeles breathes its last gas
and sinks into the sea like the Titanic all lights lit
Nine minutes later Willa Cather's Nebraska
sinks with it
The sea comes over in Utah
Mormon tabernacles washed away like barnacles
Coyotes are confounded & swim nowhere
An orchestra onstage in Omaha
keeps on playing Handel's Water Music
Horns fill with water
ans bass players float away on their instruments
clutching them like lovers horizontal
Chicago's Loop becomes a rollercoaster
Skyscrapers filled like water glasses
Great Lakes mixed with Buddhist brine
Great Books watered down in Evanston
Milwaukee beer topped with sea foam
Beau Fleuve of Buffalo suddenly become salt
Manhatten Island swept clean in sixteen seconds
buried masts of Amsterdam arise
as the great wave sweeps on Eastward
to wash away over-age Camembert Europe
manhatta steaming in sea-vines
the washed land awakes again to wilderness
the only sound a vast thrumming of crickets
a cry of seabirds high over
in empty eternity
as the Hudson retakes its thickets
and Indians reclaim their canoes
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
today in class
i was reading a short story
for American Lit.
The Sculptor's Funeral
by Willa Cather.
it's about a man who has died
and his last wish was to be brought
back to his cruel hometown
to be buried.
"It's not a pleasant place to be lying while the world is moving and doing and bettering," he had said with a feeble smile, "but it rather seems as though we ought to go back to the place we came from, in the end. The townspeople will come in for a look at me; and after they have had their say, I shan't have much to fear from the judgement of God!"
a man that worked under him,
Steavens,
brought him home in a casket.
everybody had something
bad to say about him.
Laird,
a corrupt lawyer in the town,
had enough of it.
he yelled at the townspeople
and outed all of those who had
asked him to bend the law.
he made them realize that
they had done more wrong than
the man who was now dead.
"Well, I came back here and became the ****** shyster you wanted me to be. You pretend to have some sort of respect for me; and yet you'll stand up and throw mud at Harvey Merrick, whose soul you couldn't ***** and whose hands you couldn't tie."
"Harvey Merrick wouldn't have given one sunset over your marshes for all you've got to put together, and you know it..."
this story makes me
want to believe that,
if i'm ever lying in a casket,
someone will stand up for me
and try to clear my name.
even in small, ****** towns,
like the one i live in,
maybe there's at least
one person
with a kind heart.
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 4:14 PM UTC
Take me away.
I want to feel the wind grabbing,
pulling at my hair
through the open air
on a starry night.
Help me escape.
Let's go to a new town,
change our hair,
answer to Lucy and Iris,
the girls with no past.
Live the way we're supposed to.
In that ****** apartment,
with the one bedroom.
We'll use candles for lights,
and have just the essentials.
Let's make bad choices.
We can fall in love with the rugged,
damaged.
Because if we get in too deep,
we'll just leave again.
We'll just escape.
We can decide on a new town,
change our hair,
and answer to Willa and Alice,
the girls with no past.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
Dear Willa,
I'm writing you for health and recovery, not just selfish feelings of affection. The truth is your love haunts me still. When I turn off my lights at night, its as if you're in the corner of the room still whispering sweet gestures in my ear. My love persists without permission and only rears itself in my dreams. You are not just the girl of my dreams, you ARE the girl of my dreams. Even though your physical presence left me long ago, your phantom stays in my mind, caressing me and keeping me company in the loneliest crevasses of my brain. I miss you every morning and think of you often in waking life, though it seems harmful for me. I can't help but think of you when just the night before you smiled at me so sweet and told me you still love me in so many different scenes. It appears that when I told you my heart was yours with my hands cupped together with nothing but air in them and tears in my eyes, I was giving you more than I knew.
It's only you for me, just like the whooping crane, for he has a wife his for all his life and if she dies, he'll do the same.
Goodnight,
My Hotpak
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC
Evening Song
Willa Cather - 1873-1947
Dear love,
what thing of all the things that be
Is ever worth one thought from you or me,
Save only Love,
Save only Love?
The days so short, the nights so quick to flee,
The world so wide, so deep and dark the sea,
So dark the sea;
So far the suns and every listless star,
Beyond their light—Ah! dear, who knows how far,
Who knows how far?
One thing of all dim things I know is true,
The heart within me knows, and tells it you,
And tells it you.
So blind is life, so long at last is sleep,
And none but Love to bid us laugh or weep,
And none but Love,
And none but Love.
__________________
Evening Song Twice
O.L.P. 1950-
Dear love,
your soft sleeping+breathing sounds require
Recitation of this, an Evening Song, singular thoughts,
Save for only your love,
Save for only your love,
Days are short, long nights grant permission,
Days are short, long nights grant commission,
So dark are the seas of interruption,
The voids, the emptying spaces of inhibition,
Dim my eye lights, you, envisioned, me, tremulous and weak,
Who knows when I shall see you again so clearly?
Of all things past, so well remembered burnishing caresses,
My heart within speaks, once more into the clouded atmosphere,
Even as you sleep, my love, yet full on complete,
Tho my senses impaired, my thoughts thru your sleep, I’ll penetrate,
And none but Love to bid us laugh or weep,
And none but Love,
And none but Love.
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 2:11 AM UTC
So well I remember
the clinking of our glasses and
the "cheers" that followed
with laughter and happiness
We were like kids that day
sipping from cocktails of love,
never realizing how truly
we were blessed
We were the dream team;
a mother and two daughters
sipping from cocktails of love
© Priya ॐ 7/2/17
Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.
~ Willa Cather
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 5:55 AM UTC