recently: a poetic snapshot of growing up
These are just a few of poems I’ve written recently that I believe do an interesting job of highlighting some of the ways I’ve been feeling about growing up, moving, learning, and loving every day.
- sorry
sixteen years old and in need of nothing
but a hand both to hold and to count
my sins in the waking hours,
forgotten when daisies embrace
the scars on my wrist weaved together with
the impossible: the promise of tomorrow.
and when rain falls, a caricature of the
leaves bidding their farewells alongside
the future i must let go,
will my eyes betray my breaking heart?
whispers of guilt taint my blank slate
the ugly eggshell yellow that gasps for breath
through the pure white on the entranceway,
but i spend my last dollars on cherries
and knot the stems with my tongue.
my yesterday is not my tomorrow
but i pray lord grants me the power to
accept the things i cannot change.
memories live lost on my tongue
and i cannot say the words i need to say:
i cannot say i’m
i cannot say
2. growing
i live my life Tuesdays through Sundays
and take a break every Monday
to replace the flowers at my grave
growing through the earth.
a moment of rest, dipping my
feet in the warm tropical sea
of soil, six feet away from
meaning anything at all.
i would simply cry myself to sleep
if it were viable in this drought,
but instead i weave tears
of liquid envy and memories.
i do not know if i am the girl i left behind,
but i am the woman i became,
dreaming until erosion meets oak
and i finally feel the summer air again.
3. illusions
i’m trying my best to write, you know
thumbs swerving to the tune of the setting sun
making beauty cold, succinct but dry
alight under the weight of a single flint crackling, cracking my garbled words
swirling with the gargle i flush down the sink
the lines are bending with crinkling paper
in a rhythm far too fast for any chord
to sound less than rubbery, clicking needles
against balloons, grating ivory into the
tuesday night kūmara casserole special
it’s windy out here, and sleepless cries
of thought aren’t enough to block
the creative essence being stolen
with every gust through the changing trees,
falling leaves making agar wood into holly
i’m trying my best, you know
but all the coins have fallen out of my pockets
and i’m funnier than ever before,
stuck with first grader vocabulary,
because life is easier when it’s a performance.
4. lukewarm violet
there’s a locket with a broken chain
resting on my bedside table enclosing
a faded picture of my first love,
the world and its cracks in this
blushing dawn light, oceans rising
towards the midday stars
until the sun drowns
heels resting on chipped porcelain
i draw a bath and the the water runs
lukewarm violet
as true on my skin as it is
corrosive, skin to bone
dust and petals scattered amongst
ashes as i rise,
bleeding iridescence
scarred by mirrors and hope
exothermically powered even on
these frigid silver-skied winter days
knit up with a new kind of morning
telescope poised towards tomorrow,
but i find what i need right in this moment
i’m cold, empty, and green, but
alive and in love again
I hope you enjoyed! These poems and many others I have sitting in my notes app are just written for fun, and also as almost a kind of diary where I can vent my feelings! Thank you and love always, Ella.