Poems · writing

Loquacious Soliloquy

Tainted clam chowder

Abiding this class by the hour

Feels like I’ve been here for days.

I’m crumpled and sour, grumpy and dour,

Waiting to break out of the haze

Your braid is too long, a deadened kind of blonde,

I wonder if the split ends clog your brain.

But that fringy mop you sport up top could never detract from your “fish out of water” claims.

Voice like a dying cat in the night,

Birds startle and then take flight

Trying so hard to switch on the light,

A riveting anecdote. Again.

Your lectures land like a gecko running over sand: nothing sinks in.

Looking over your metaphorical shoulder

Into a sea of letdown students now and past,

I only hope your tenure lasts,

As you’re not getting by on talent.

I should send this to the school instead of a review for this particular professor. She’s truly the pits.

Poems · writing


I need a subject, and I’m choosing you.

First thing I see, strapped tightly to me, you follow wherever I go.

Humble and loyal, you tread on the soil, keeping me safe from harm

Today a snowy hue, tomorrow a scarlet red,

Once you were blue, and not a nice shade, no,

Just blue as veins on an unexpected summer’s day.

I’m still sorry about that phase.

This was meant to go up almost a week ago. I’ve been having trouble staying motivated, as I get down on myself sometimes, especially with lack of feedback. I start to lose energy. But I want to get back on track with my schedule (I’ve been trying to post MWF) and not put so much pressure on myself. I enjoy writing just for my own sake, and I shouldn’t rely on what others say to do something I love. Especially considering this poem is about my shoes and it’s not that greaaaaat, but I’m okay with that. Thanks for reading my posts, those that do. Love for you! Sorry this turned into a diary entry. Ooops.

Poems · writing

Peaceful Observance

I want to fall asleep in the sun

Full of warmth and comfort

Impeded by no one

I want to feel the breeze on my skin

Surrounded by flowers,

Pollen-headed bees tumble lazily in.

I want to watch their slow dance,

Entranced by their diligence, their inability to wear pants,

And on the tops of their silly-heads

Two little antennae bumble about

Looking around for the next bloom to sniff out

(Do bumblebees have noses?)

There are questions I suppose(s) that will abound,

Human nature itself is sort of tumbling around.

And in grief, I think, we know this,

Though when that familiar friend leaves for the summer

We pretend not to notice

He was never there.

Without a care, I lie among the roses,

Prick my fingers on the thorns

I will never pick them.

I watch the bumblebees tumble around

Poems · writing


There is no point,

Most of the time.

Even when life is lovely, I can’t always

Bear it.

Who’s the winner?

Maybe winter, in its deathly state.

Who, but a season cloaked in mortality can put a value on life.

What joy, though, must the flowers feel

What relief as petals thaw

And breath is drawn at last.

Poems · writing


My teeth scrape across my glasses

They prickle against my cheeks

I squint and I sigh but I try not to cry as they poke the inside of my eyelids

What a horrible sight to see!

A girl with such teeth like me!

In the wrong place, upside of my face, where fluttering lashes should be!

Winking is so very painful.

Sleeping is always a gamble

Butterfly kisses? Don’t get me started.

I tried it once, now he’s dearly departed,

And all that is left here is me

This is a completely silly poem I wrote to prove a point to someone. I thought you guys would get a kick out of it

Poems · writing

A Message

I woke up one morning, seventeen, and a ghost had left a message for me. Ominous words written down in a digital hand, that I have since transcribed to paper. I’ve never been one to believe in visits from another realm, and indeed any “experiences” I’ve had since then have done nothing to recreate the feeling of utter violation and dread I felt that day, reading words that I knew were not mine.

Yet, something about it.

“Where was I half the time?”

Felt vaguely…familiar. The structure of the poem wasn’t my style, but the language seemed close to what I’d written in the past.

Had I somehow found a way to send a message to an earlier-version me? And why 3:29pm? Why hadn’t I noticed it that afternoon instead of the next morning?

I know how crazy this sounds, but I just can’t get it out of my head. Its been almost six years and I still think about it. Nothing I’ve found online can explain where it’s from, they’re not lyrics, not a quote, it’s like they conjured themselves into my phone for me to find and no one else.

I’m attaching a picture from when I wrote the words down in my notebook. I don’t like looking at them too long because they make me feel a little sick, but I’ll copy them below, too, in case my writing was a little shaky.

EDIT: I’m realizing that the original, below, has three opening lines instead of the two I had written down initially. Operator error? Or has it changed again? I need to look into this.

Where was I half the time?

Where was I half the time?

Where was I half the time?

All these colors

All these colors

Haunting my heart

Haunting my heart

Where is my mother?

Where is my father?

Where is my mother?