It is Saturday, which means that it's time for "writing day". I want to share with you a collection of the poems that I wrote for the final portfolio in my poetry class. There are 12 of them, so if you can't be bothered to read them all, that's perfectly understandable. It takes a person of great patience to make it through a large collection of poetry. The only premise for the portfolio was that it had to follow a time line, meaning that each poem had to build upon another. In my collection, I've tried to take the reader through the life cycle of a single narrator. It might seem that a different narrator is speaking as you progress in the piece, but it's the same one who is growing and learning about the world.
Enjoy!
Growing up
When I was
young I’d play
with shellfish and plankton
and whales.
They’d sing me their tunes
as I’d lie in bed, softly
listening while creating their ocean
from my eyes.
with shellfish and plankton
and whales.
They’d sing me their tunes
as I’d lie in bed, softly
listening while creating their ocean
from my eyes.
I knew their
language- I
tasted their skins. We became one
sort of being and it was fun.
Fun to dive into a life not my own,
exciting in fact, I’d go there to
feel at home.
tasted their skins. We became one
sort of being and it was fun.
Fun to dive into a life not my own,
exciting in fact, I’d go there to
feel at home.
The whale
was my mother,
the shellfish my friend.
The plankton was the dinner
that’d we chase until it was dead.
We’d dance around lava flumes,
they were our campfire, I’d stay
there until my brain got tired.
the shellfish my friend.
The plankton was the dinner
that’d we chase until it was dead.
We’d dance around lava flumes,
they were our campfire, I’d stay
there until my brain got tired.
Blue
kazoo
I am five
years old
and I have my
first kazoo.
It is a deep
colour of plastic…
BLUE!!!
Blue is my
favorite colour and
this kazoo is now
my new favorite
thing!
and I have my
first kazoo.
It is a deep
colour of plastic…
BLUE!!!
Blue is my
favorite colour and
this kazoo is now
my new favorite
thing!
My mom and
dad
would find no interest
in this pretty little object.
They’d just tell me to throw it away.
That is why I am five
and this blueberry flavored
noise-maker is my life.
It has to be blueberry!
Everything blue taste like
Blueberry!
would find no interest
in this pretty little object.
They’d just tell me to throw it away.
That is why I am five
and this blueberry flavored
noise-maker is my life.
It has to be blueberry!
Everything blue taste like
Blueberry!
It might
look weird,
with its long body
and hollowed out center,
but I promise that it does
not taste like daddy’s cigars.
I tried those once and they didn’t
taste like anything yummy.
This kazoo though,
tastes just like the colour blue.
A blueberry tasting
instrument.
An instrument making
a pretty little noise.
with its long body
and hollowed out center,
but I promise that it does
not taste like daddy’s cigars.
I tried those once and they didn’t
taste like anything yummy.
This kazoo though,
tastes just like the colour blue.
A blueberry tasting
instrument.
An instrument making
a pretty little noise.
But, what is
that noise?
Where is it coming from?
Is there a bug trapped inside
of my blueberry kazoo?
A buzzing bee trapped
at the top of my fruity noisemaker?
That has to be what’s
making the noise.
Inside that turny
wheel thing.
How can I get
that buzzer out?
I know!
I open the wheel!
The door to see this…
BEE!
Where is it coming from?
Is there a bug trapped inside
of my blueberry kazoo?
A buzzing bee trapped
at the top of my fruity noisemaker?
That has to be what’s
making the noise.
Inside that turny
wheel thing.
How can I get
that buzzer out?
I know!
I open the wheel!
The door to see this…
BEE!
Wait!
There’s no bee in here,
only a piece of thin paper.
But now I can’t put this
door back on.
It won’t close!
It’s not working now.
My blueberry flavored
blue kazoo is now gone.
And I am all alone!
only a piece of thin paper.
But now I can’t put this
door back on.
It won’t close!
It’s not working now.
My blueberry flavored
blue kazoo is now gone.
And I am all alone!
Approval
They used to
call me young man.
I didn’t struggle to hold things.
I was strong. I was bold.
My youth caused people to
flock to me. They’d laugh
when I’d walk in.
I found that I had
strength in their laughter.
I’d put it in a cup and take it
in one shot.
I’d dilute the powder,
the fruit-punch color mixing
together until the cup was
a perfect color of blood-red.
I’d swallowed it down and leave
no drop.
The bitter taste was
like crab apples touching
my innocent tongue.
I kept drinking however,
until it was gone.
I didn’t struggle to hold things.
I was strong. I was bold.
My youth caused people to
flock to me. They’d laugh
when I’d walk in.
I found that I had
strength in their laughter.
I’d put it in a cup and take it
in one shot.
I’d dilute the powder,
the fruit-punch color mixing
together until the cup was
a perfect color of blood-red.
I’d swallowed it down and leave
no drop.
The bitter taste was
like crab apples touching
my innocent tongue.
I kept drinking however,
until it was gone.
Three
thoughts in one poem
First
The catskin
garland
freshly hung
around the penguins window
with a rusty tack
smeared from the glaring.
freshly hung
around the penguins window
with a rusty tack
smeared from the glaring.
Second
Hypocrisy!
Hypocrisy!
You prance in pudding
but demand I soar with cotton.
Hypocrisy!
You prance in pudding
but demand I soar with cotton.
Third
Does your
cup depress,
like a bag full
of dirty laundry filled
with a sugar-coated heartburn
that’s empty like your soul?
like a bag full
of dirty laundry filled
with a sugar-coated heartburn
that’s empty like your soul?
Insensitive
Shhhh...
The silence is deafening.
An aching from ear to throat.
The silence is deafening.
An aching from ear to throat.
The words
expressed,
a tongue that’s burning,
your moment of light attuned.
a tongue that’s burning,
your moment of light attuned.
Allow for
the thoughts to tire-
to breed, seed, and bloom.
to breed, seed, and bloom.
Plead for
the humbling experience-
a breath, a sigh, a relief, a cry
a sorry passage won't do.
a breath, a sigh, a relief, a cry
a sorry passage won't do.
Swallowing
glances,
Blurred through vision,
Shadowed from what's now askew.
Blurred through vision,
Shadowed from what's now askew.
Peace, a
luxury unafforded.
Hope, dashed by you.
Hope, dashed by you.
Shhhh...
The silence is deafening,
A moment you've now gone through.
The silence is deafening,
A moment you've now gone through.
In order to
avoid a family reunion
You see it
glancing your way
that potato salad winks at you.
Your aunt Ruthie made it…
three days ago.
Now, it stares in a greasy manner
begging for someone to take a bite.
Don’t mind that it’s been sitting there
basking in the hellish sun for over
four hours.
that potato salad winks at you.
Your aunt Ruthie made it…
three days ago.
Now, it stares in a greasy manner
begging for someone to take a bite.
Don’t mind that it’s been sitting there
basking in the hellish sun for over
four hours.
The bugs fly
high, searching for a target.
They need to lay their eggs
and your hair looks like a mansion.
They quietly fly low, make their landing
and inject their gooey eggs deep inside
your arid scalp.
You can’t scratch them away
that’d make you a bad host.
They’ll be born soon and they’ll
soar away, leaving behind a kaleidoscope
of disease and bacteria.
They need to lay their eggs
and your hair looks like a mansion.
They quietly fly low, make their landing
and inject their gooey eggs deep inside
your arid scalp.
You can’t scratch them away
that’d make you a bad host.
They’ll be born soon and they’ll
soar away, leaving behind a kaleidoscope
of disease and bacteria.
Should you
go, or should you stay home?
If I were you, I’d just say you have diarrhea.
If I were you, I’d just say you have diarrhea.
Giving it up
As the chicken fades away
from the butchers last cut
on its carcass that’s just been
chopped,
our love has died.
Nevermore to return
to the lustful depths
of youthful intent.
We were honorably discharged,
like a soldier saying farewell
to the flowerlike grass
of a weed-topped hill.
Our affections hollowed out by
those long nights of
blood and acid tripped exposures.
Our romance began in
bowl of pride-filled
bowl of pride-filled
pudding-like glitter.
We glistened through the waves
that hid the lies
of your puffed up
secreted torture.
of your puffed up
secreted torture.
My love for you, like a band,
has stretched to the limits
of a world of ignorance.
My eyes have been peeled,
and the revealing fruit
is not plentifully appetizing
like the yellow outside covering.
My new
lifestyle
Someone
threw my food away.
The tub of
lard I was saving for later,
the glistening fat that shimmered in delight.
It’s only
food-but God it’s good.
That chicken
carcass, already prepared.
It’s seen
better days
but I’m sure
it’s still good.
Is that
mold? I’m just going to say it’s parsley.
It smells
like it’s been in the fridge for a while.
Fridge
smell, a mixture of spoiled milk
and all of
the crusty stuff that collects in the back.
Plants fail
in comparison to chicken,
already
prepared and begging for attention.
What’s Kale?
Why does it taste so…green?
Earthy, like
smelling into a cloud of dirt.
Tofu,
lentils, beans, and quinoa, they all
sound like a
fun night with the butt-trumpet.
They don’t
wink, they don’t nod.
They just
sit in there
waiting…
waiting for
me to prepare them.
Kidnapped
Fear!
You’re a fly, I shoo
you away, but you keep
coming back.
You’re a fly, I shoo
you away, but you keep
coming back.
Fear!
My hiding place won’t hide
me well.
I’m a camel with my head
in the sand but ass in the air.
My hiding place won’t hide
me well.
I’m a camel with my head
in the sand but ass in the air.
Fear!
Losing the last
marble of my childhood-losing
my actual child, my gift
from the Gods.
Losing the last
marble of my childhood-losing
my actual child, my gift
from the Gods.
Fear!
I’ve fallen into a
glitter-filled bowl of pudding.
I’m stuck in the shimmering lights
that blind me from the exit.
I’ve fallen into a
glitter-filled bowl of pudding.
I’m stuck in the shimmering lights
that blind me from the exit.
Fear!
My world will change if
your youth is taken
and your candle
is snuffed out.
My world will change if
your youth is taken
and your candle
is snuffed out.
Hidden
message
It
happened on an average day
the excitement bursting like stars.
It’s late for saving the begging child
who promptly stomps on fire.
the excitement bursting like stars.
It’s late for saving the begging child
who promptly stomps on fire.
I
mention this to cause a stir-
to excite the pot to scorn,
to excite the pot to scorn,
no protection is given to the
innocent-
the lost or sacred sheep,
from empty hands that sin has touched
to assault the harrowing feet,
to snuff the precious light,
to execute total control.
the lost or sacred sheep,
from empty hands that sin has touched
to assault the harrowing feet,
to snuff the precious light,
to execute total control.
I
involved myself with the dirty animal
who met me in a dingy bar.
who met me in a dingy bar.
By losing
dignity I lost it all-
an oppressive chain now blooms.
My strength has all but left me.
I try and yell with no success.
an oppressive chain now blooms.
My strength has all but left me.
I try and yell with no success.
This poem is
meant to make no sense
but, does it maybe, to you?
but, does it maybe, to you?
The Sparrow
The little life drains
from the sparrow's
tight throat,
as she cranes her
head to the sky.
She prunes out her clothes,
puffs up her breast,
spreads out her pride,
and...falls.
Down to the feet
that the cobbler protects,
with his hammer, tacks, and cloth.
Down to be mended
with life-giving touch,
and ready to soar anew.
-Jer
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