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finding peace

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You’ve Got Me, Friend

2024, napowrimo, poetry

It’s been ages since we’ve talked in earnest;
when there were nights we spent almost sleepless
talking over the phone. I don’t even know who
you are anymore. It’s been so long, I miss you.

I remember the time I called you after school;
I had you confused and looking like a fool
by guessing the one place you could have gone to
and saying I crossed the country just to see you.

Looking back, that was very mean of me; you were
and still are the best of people I could ask for.
We became friends when I tried to console you,
but now I run to you when I’m feeling blue.

I remember when you went to the museum with me
so I won’t be alone and now how could I not see
how good a friend you’ve been to me. It seems
you’ve done more for me than I could dream.

I had only been asking for favors and advice
without asking how you are, and not realize
you have burdens you carry that I’m not helping
and maybe my own burdens even contributing.

We’re both ill; we’re both in need of a friend
—and you’ve been that while I’ve been absent.
I didn’t even know your worries, your pains
...until recently. I wish we get to talk more again.

(more…)

after Falling Into Place

2024, napowrimo, poetry

An accident is difficult to plan.

You lose people; close friends
become distant, and strangers
seem more familiar.

You can decide how, where and when.

You lose touch; who you are
and who you’re supposed to be
blur until you can’t see.

You’ll crash and spin over.

People lose you; unnoticed
strings chain you together
and with you, they suffer.

You’ll be found and cared for.

They will wait; until you see
them once again, they will stay
by your side and each day after.

(more…)

Sun Flowers

2023, napowrimo, poetry

The sunflower always faces the sun;
down-crested when it’s gone, only slowly
raising its head from horizon to horizon.

Amidst the early vestiges of the day
the morning glory opens itself to the sun;
and fades before the sunset paints the sky.

It’s good I’m neither; no sun to define me.

NaPoWriMo 2023. A poem on a specific plant.

When people say they love the rain

2023, napowrimo, poetry

When people say they love the rain,
they really mean they love the cold weather;
the pitter patter of a light drizzle
on the window, the concrete, on things that don’t quite matter.

When people say they love the sun,
they don’t mean the scorching heat of summer;
they mean the possibility of all sorts
that would have been for naught if not the wonderful weather.

When people say they love the wind,
they mean the breeze not what ruined their hair;
a gentle caress as if a lover’s embrace
instead of a gale that tore through their life asunder.

So when people say they love you,
to what extent can you believe that be true?

NaPoWriMo 2023. Catching up to last week’s Sonnet Sunday.

On time travel

2023, napowrimo, poetry

It’s not
real.

It is
now. Tomorrow,
next week,
year.

It’s not
what should be
the past; it’s what
the past should be.
Not the last, but
should have been
what was.

It is
all that I
hoped had not,
or that it be not
what was
—is.
That it never be
, or today be a lot different.

But as much as I want,
what has happened cannot
be changed. What is
will remain what it is.

NaPoWriMo 2023. A poem built on negation

our galaxies

2023, napowrimo, poetry

come nightfall brave the light of stars
rising from the ground. man did not make
the forests their own with pillars
of grey. they stole the stars and planted
their own in the concrete jungle. man no
longer see stars but the stars stare back;
come nightfall brave the heavens torn down.

NaPoWriMo 2023. Off-prompt

i carry your heart with me(literally

2023, napowrimo, poetry

i carry your heart with me(literally
your heart) and i shall not live without it (or i’ll die
as you had; after which we’re one finally—
in heart that once was yours)
                              i fear
rejection(that my body can’t accept you)after
i wake(and you watch over from the after life)
and i hear you—your heart—as it beats your
melody and sadness strikes like the surgeon’s knife.

there was the gaping hole you left behind
(the gap of your loss, the reminder of you
ever present in me who continues to live on
in melancholy as the memory of you runs anew)
and this shall make my nights unbearably hard

i carry your heart(as it’s now my heart)

NaPoWriMo 2023. A parody/satire of a famous poem.

after [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] by E.E. Cummings

Dinner

2023, napowrimo, poetry

Made one for me.

Then for the couple;
that’s two
 which makes three.

Feeling hungry, I
 cooked four five.

But after six,
 Seven eight Nine.

I did say get a room
 but that escalated
fast.

NaPoWriMo 2023. A poem following a joke.

Tritina

2023, napowrimo, poetry

It’s been a while since I’ve written a tritina
with all of its circular movements
that begs me a story.

Even when tongue tied, it drags out a story
from within me. How have you been, tritina?
Let’s play new movements

together. By song or dance, we’ll let movements
paint the world, and us, a new story.
Then we’ll know you, tritina.

Tritina, let’s dance to the movements in our story.

NaPoWriMo 2023. A poem addressing the poem.

Expense

2023, napowrimo, poetry

It’s the reason I’m broke
she says
as she makes another purchase.

I’m the one that got swept away
she says
as she mans the sale but buys herself.

But of those who spent and gone,
myself I gave
and given the choice, again I will.

NaPoWriMo 2023. Overheard language.