1/30 04.01.09 - Haiku
start off slow, they say.
take your time...time? when did time
give out luxuries?
2/30 04.02.09 - Weird Emotional Poem
light...every person emulates a light
a light that floods every corner of the earth, every grain of sand.
every person also possess a jar.
while we are all aware of our own light, we do not always shine.
but we all hope somewhere, deep in our hearts, that there is a light that will shine on us.
we keep the jars open, hoping that someone's light will come inside when their shine passes by
that someone, someone special, will give a little bit of their shine for us to hold.
most jars have a lid, leaning on the jar's side, to keep that light safe from harm.
to place on top of these jars, to place them on top of these lights.
some people are aware that light needs to shine.
light needs to move and breath in its own wave.
but some people get so scared
that their piece of someone else's light will one day no longer shine their way that
they take the lids of the jars and close them so tight, tight so that not let go any of that special light.
but light, light needs to move.
light needs the opportunity to creep its shine through every surface of this earth in order to continue to shine bright.
sometimes, we hold on to light so hard, that the light will dim under the pressure of the lid.
until it gets a surge, a need to break through the darkness of the lid.
that's when the light pops the lid and shoots out to the sky, possibly to be never seen again.
now for those who don't shine their own light, this is a devastation that will leave them in total darkness.
they cannot shine nor they do have a bit of anyone else's shine.
this does not happen to people who shine and have shine.
they know how to hold a light that isn't theirs while shining on their own.
i once knew how to shine. but it grew dim.
by the time our lights crossed, i was so dimmed.
your light on me was beautiful. it made me feel strong.
but i got scared. continuously scared.
i was looking to make my light shine light again.
but i did not want to lose your light shining on me.
i was afraid that if you went and shine your light everywhere else, you would one day leave me in the dark.
so i took my jar and closed it tighter.
you wanted to warm me, but you grew colder.
and one day, your light busted out of my jar, and you tipped your own, letting go of whatever light i managed to shine.
but the minute you give me back my own light, i realized that there were flashes that was shining on other places of the earth, starting to emerge just when you screamed.
i saw the light i had given you and i realized i wanted you to see it all.
i was hiding bits of my light, hoping to one day show you when the time was right.
but my dark fears, they flooded me, they flooded you, though i desired to shine.
and i always wanted to see you shine.
from day one, i thought your light was beautiful. my only desire ever, was to see it shine.
i did not know that i was slowly dimming your light.
i am ashamed of it. ashamed that i ever hurt you in that way.
even if i never see your light again, i could never hold it down the way i did again
it hurts to destroy beauty.
but it also hurts destroying the beauty of my own light, though i was trying to build it back up.
and my light is too beautiful to destroy. my light is worth everything, from my shine to where i place my home.
one day, everyday, i can only hold up my jar and
i want to see your light shine all around the world.
light shines on everything, from good to the bad, the usual and the unusual.
if i truly see your light, i see everything it shines on too.
if you truly see my light, you see everything it shines on too.
if we are to elevate into a true blend of light, we have to be able shine at all angles,
towards the world and towards each other.
towards the world of loving, traveling lights.
4/30 04.04.09 - A Short Poem
5/30 04.05.09 - Cinquain
for
six seconds, sex sounds the sax,
stretching strength beyond safe sugared screens,
screaming succulent searches of sentiment sappy.
she swears strategies share summarized lust
through scenes summer selects, sparkles shimmied
senses stopped, such a sadness subtitled.
7/30 04.07.09 - Writer's Affirmation
19/30 04.19.09 - Plea Bargain
20/30 04.20.09 - Mumbling Hands
My ears
breathed in the sigh of
betrayal...
"It was her...",
marched through my brain,
caressing
sharp lies
into my heart.
The denial was bitter,
metallic honey as it rose
up in my throat,
stopping at the tip
of my tongue.
I couldn't do it, say
"No, it wasn't me, I didn't do it."
I could feel their
disbelief already peering
inside of me, turning me
inside out, not to believe a single word.
I did not bother
to hold on to hope by its feet
while they made me eat that crow of lies
with the sight of their rising hands.
I felt their half-hearted mumbling hands
telling me they knew the truth as they whipped me for her lie.
The stench of a first time beating.
Never have I ever smelled their anger before now,
though I know it will linger...
...
Sister's shadow faded into the mountain of toys,
her smirk twinkling in the broken pieces of the vase
she broke while running around.
I guess for once, she didn't want to be the blame because
their mumbling hands were not new to her.
But I guess for me,
well, everyone has to have a first time...
Even if it's based on lies.21 - 30/30 4/21-30/09 - a mixture of work, especially introducing an Ekphrastic Lune Loop21/30 - Haiku
fiercely haunting, an
exile so foreign, it is
lost among blood lines.
22/30 - Haiku
metaphysical,
a bare boned need for the tongue
to meet a lapsed death.
23/30 - Haiku
a border wrapped in
laced cotton never stopped skin
from emerging black.
24/30 - Haiku
there is a breaker
in all value of life: out
living yourself now
25/30 - Random
oceans could sparkle
and nothing under a
brilliant sun could cause
waves like your smile,
not even an act of God.
26/30 - Haiku
only in heart have
i declared that i could bleed
this lust in your hands.
27/30 - Sneak Peak from a Haiku Chapbook: Two
a silent screen ties
my tongue around my stomach,
shamed by my fool heart.
28/30 - Sneak Peak from a Haiku Chapbook: Eight
and woman is she,
who made me storm in between
my legs by first glance.
29/30 - Bowling Green
the death of the
butterfly
reminds
me that evolution
is
useless:
all eyelids stop
fluttering
whether you are
the caterpillar
or
the butterfly.
30/30 - Ekphrastic Lune Loop (10 lunes, one poem, exercise from poetry club)
a poem rides
on the body of the
train, visibly hidden
shadow people block
the bright message etched horizontally
on brick rails
i remember a
starfish, bus, sand and mother
hovering in imagination
in the wedding,
communion of a family, white
decorating the past.
old woman in
cafe used to stare at
my hungry disobedience
while playing tag
with my youth, a friend
slowly fading away
i used to
leave my brother behind while
i chased adulthood
jumping upside down
on the sands of hot,
risky, white danger
riding in the
family care in 1960, pressed
against cool posing
and i hug
a violent movement with message
pressed on back.
start off slow, they say.
take your time...time? when did time
give out luxuries?
2/30 04.02.09 - Weird Emotional Poem
light...every person emulates a light
a light that floods every corner of the earth, every grain of sand.
every person also possess a jar.
while we are all aware of our own light, we do not always shine.
but we all hope somewhere, deep in our hearts, that there is a light that will shine on us.
we keep the jars open, hoping that someone's light will come inside when their shine passes by
that someone, someone special, will give a little bit of their shine for us to hold.
most jars have a lid, leaning on the jar's side, to keep that light safe from harm.
to place on top of these jars, to place them on top of these lights.
some people are aware that light needs to shine.
light needs to move and breath in its own wave.
but some people get so scared
that their piece of someone else's light will one day no longer shine their way that
they take the lids of the jars and close them so tight, tight so that not let go any of that special light.
but light, light needs to move.
light needs the opportunity to creep its shine through every surface of this earth in order to continue to shine bright.
sometimes, we hold on to light so hard, that the light will dim under the pressure of the lid.
until it gets a surge, a need to break through the darkness of the lid.
that's when the light pops the lid and shoots out to the sky, possibly to be never seen again.
now for those who don't shine their own light, this is a devastation that will leave them in total darkness.
they cannot shine nor they do have a bit of anyone else's shine.
this does not happen to people who shine and have shine.
they know how to hold a light that isn't theirs while shining on their own.
i once knew how to shine. but it grew dim.
by the time our lights crossed, i was so dimmed.
your light on me was beautiful. it made me feel strong.
but i got scared. continuously scared.
i was looking to make my light shine light again.
but i did not want to lose your light shining on me.
i was afraid that if you went and shine your light everywhere else, you would one day leave me in the dark.
so i took my jar and closed it tighter.
you wanted to warm me, but you grew colder.
and one day, your light busted out of my jar, and you tipped your own, letting go of whatever light i managed to shine.
but the minute you give me back my own light, i realized that there were flashes that was shining on other places of the earth, starting to emerge just when you screamed.
i saw the light i had given you and i realized i wanted you to see it all.
i was hiding bits of my light, hoping to one day show you when the time was right.
but my dark fears, they flooded me, they flooded you, though i desired to shine.
and i always wanted to see you shine.
from day one, i thought your light was beautiful. my only desire ever, was to see it shine.
i did not know that i was slowly dimming your light.
i am ashamed of it. ashamed that i ever hurt you in that way.
even if i never see your light again, i could never hold it down the way i did again
it hurts to destroy beauty.
but it also hurts destroying the beauty of my own light, though i was trying to build it back up.
and my light is too beautiful to destroy. my light is worth everything, from my shine to where i place my home.
one day, everyday, i can only hold up my jar and
hope that one day, everyday your light will choose to come and
cradle itself inside, to have a place to come home to.
and one day. everyday i can only hope that you will let
and one day. everyday i can only hope that you will let
my light come into your jar, and give it back a home.
from my jar, i threw away the lid.
from my jar, i threw away the lid.
i want to see your light shine all around the world.
light shines on everything, from good to the bad, the usual and the unusual.
if i truly see your light, i see everything it shines on too.
if you truly see my light, you see everything it shines on too.
if we are to elevate into a true blend of light, we have to be able shine at all angles,
towards the world and towards each other.
towards the world of loving, traveling lights.
3/30 04.03.09 - Album Poem
Oracular Spectacular
Time to pretend.
That's what weekend wars are about.
Youth, electric kids of the 4th dimensional transition,
telling pieces of what childhood looked like in the tongues
of moons, birds and monsters,
haunting your dreams until you agreed to reluctantly give up your toy chest.
Handshakes at the dinner table seal the deal
to future reflections of missing important tree house meetings,
not lending your pal your comic books for the weekend and
saying no to sleepovers due to homework.
How long have you yearned for Saturday morning cartoons?
To have the screen so close to your face,
memorized by the electric feel radiating
towards the tip of your nose instead of
touring a photo album of Saturday mornings of long ago
over a morning cup of coffee.
How long has it been?
Time to pretend.
That's what weekend wars are about.
Youth, electric kids of the 4th dimensional transition,
telling pieces of what childhood looked like in the tongues
of moons, birds and monsters,
haunting your dreams until you agreed to reluctantly give up your toy chest.
Handshakes at the dinner table seal the deal
to future reflections of missing important tree house meetings,
not lending your pal your comic books for the weekend and
saying no to sleepovers due to homework.
How long have you yearned for Saturday morning cartoons?
To have the screen so close to your face,
memorized by the electric feel radiating
towards the tip of your nose instead of
touring a photo album of Saturday mornings of long ago
over a morning cup of coffee.
How long has it been?
4/30 04.04.09 - A Short Poem
i remember a time when backseats
did not cause me to blush,
when chocolate syrup was just for ice cream
and when "I'm coming!" meant i'll be right there.
when did i become his dirty little whore?
did not cause me to blush,
when chocolate syrup was just for ice cream
and when "I'm coming!" meant i'll be right there.
when did i become his dirty little whore?
5/30 04.05.09 - Cinquain
Lazy
smiles tug at
my heart strings, like they were
mine for keeps instead of a gift for
the world.
what a shame...
smiles tug at
my heart strings, like they were
mine for keeps instead of a gift for
the world.
what a shame...
6/30 04.06.09 - Six Words
for
six seconds, sex sounds the sax,
stretching strength beyond safe sugared screens,
screaming succulent searches of sentiment sappy.
she swears strategies share summarized lust
through scenes summer selects, sparkles shimmied
senses stopped, such a sadness subtitled.
7/30 04.07.09 - Writer's Affirmation
To do a poem like this, check out this site:
http://ettcweb.lr.k12.nj.us/forms/newpoem.htm. Cute fill-ins that can be useful.
Writer's Affirmation
I am creative
I value the metaphors that swirl around my tongue when
I write in the wild of language.
I trust the feel of the pen on my fingertips while
I honor the ink splashed on the page.
I give voice to the insanity no one will accept if said in prose.
I give voice to the emotions no one wants to hold.
I am a life which leaks its words 85% honestly, which is more than what can be said for most.
I make a poem heaven and hell, to honor both sides of the coin while
I hold the world in one endless notebook, to recreate and destroy.
I am safe writing on the page.
I make my home a place to write.
Writer's Affirmation
I am creative
I value the metaphors that swirl around my tongue when
I write in the wild of language.
I trust the feel of the pen on my fingertips while
I honor the ink splashed on the page.
I give voice to the insanity no one will accept if said in prose.
I give voice to the emotions no one wants to hold.
I am a life which leaks its words 85% honestly, which is more than what can be said for most.
I make a poem heaven and hell, to honor both sides of the coin while
I hold the world in one endless notebook, to recreate and destroy.
I am safe writing on the page.
I make my home a place to write.
8/30 04.08.09 - Tanka
not a good idea,
leaving words hanging off of
blossoming rose buds,
dripping unsaid. breathless hope
belongs screaming in the rain.
leaving words hanging off of
blossoming rose buds,
dripping unsaid. breathless hope
belongs screaming in the rain.
9/30 04.09.09 - Poetry Generator
* i searched for some poetry generators online and i came across one (which i do not have the link for because i closed the page!) which did haikus, supposedly lesbian haikus which i dunno if they are or not. but here is a string of 9 haikus linked together.
In Her Mouth
rumination groans
masquerade plucks, foundling falls
solitude blushing
dazedly moping
devilish anacondas
destroy carelessly
plodding riderless
chaste chameleon sagging
delirious cubs.
ghostly oaf rattling
glumly opaquely blindly
oak gusting sting clocks
pure virgin emerges
miser resists, goose sneezing
jeering shorebird shakes
raspberry ponders
moodily, cocoons sluggish
fluidity slurps
copious pure warm
abattoirs encircle, gray
lemons chop drily
demoness seeks, ear
stampeding shadow squirming
singing, yearning cats.
implacable child
hissing bicycle pulling
shrewd rapturous hearts.
In Her Mouth
rumination groans
masquerade plucks, foundling falls
solitude blushing
dazedly moping
devilish anacondas
destroy carelessly
plodding riderless
chaste chameleon sagging
delirious cubs.
ghostly oaf rattling
glumly opaquely blindly
oak gusting sting clocks
pure virgin emerges
miser resists, goose sneezing
jeering shorebird shakes
raspberry ponders
moodily, cocoons sluggish
fluidity slurps
copious pure warm
abattoirs encircle, gray
lemons chop drily
demoness seeks, ear
stampeding shadow squirming
singing, yearning cats.
implacable child
hissing bicycle pulling
shrewd rapturous hearts.
10/30 04.10.09 - Respect
My mother once told me
"You are only my child, you deserve no respect. I am the mother."
Does mother mean spirit breaker?
How can I respect myself if the person who carried me does not?
How can I soar to my highest when you believe me to be so low?
Respect is a two-street, STOP taking up two lanes.
For all the times when I was young and naive, with talks of love for you mother,
I take back everything I've said.
"You are only my child, you deserve no respect. I am the mother."
Does mother mean spirit breaker?
How can I respect myself if the person who carried me does not?
How can I soar to my highest when you believe me to be so low?
Respect is a two-street, STOP taking up two lanes.
For all the times when I was young and naive, with talks of love for you mother,
I take back everything I've said.
11/30 04.11.09 - Status Poems
a bullet in a bible,
eating away at the
scriptures
with the pain of belief
and the hope
that something would
click
between Genesis and
Revelations, smoking,
breathing the truth of faith
and the lies of men who wish
to be greater than
the religion.
eating away at the
scriptures
with the pain of belief
and the hope
that something would
click
between Genesis and
Revelations, smoking,
breathing the truth of faith
and the lies of men who wish
to be greater than
the religion.
12/30 04.12.09 - Haiku
i love the way you
do not bring me bliss yet i
still feel like a queen.
do not bring me bliss yet i
still feel like a queen.
13/30 04.13.09 - Haiku, Late
you took my hand and
led me back to a night of
no kisses to kiss.
led me back to a night of
no kisses to kiss.
14/30 04.14.09 - Acrostics, Late
Sex collapsed around
Our aching bodies,
Uniting an emotion called love and a desire named
Lust in a
Frenzy of
Ultra realism, hanging off the breath of
Calloused calls of
Kicking
Instinct, sixty-
Nining the look between me and your
Gorgeous eyes.
Our aching bodies,
Uniting an emotion called love and a desire named
Lust in a
Frenzy of
Ultra realism, hanging off the breath of
Calloused calls of
Kicking
Instinct, sixty-
Nining the look between me and your
Gorgeous eyes.
15/30 04.15.09 - Lune
every fifteenth of
april, she
packs up her income.
april, she
packs up her income.
16/30 04.16.09 - Lune
he decorated
my finger
in hematite love.
my finger
in hematite love.
17/30 04.17.09 - Lune
bound soul, daring soul
tongues yearn to
cry in your language.
tongues yearn to
cry in your language.
18/30 04.18.09 - Haiku, Late, Midnight Blue Ball
his urge, his shame, a
bridge swollen between an ache
and salutes to i.
bridge swollen between an ache
and salutes to i.
19/30 04.19.09 - Plea Bargain
i
need
some
time
and
nurturing
to
heal
open,
petrified
emotions...
can you promise me that?
need
some
time
and
nurturing
to
heal
open,
petrified
emotions...
can you promise me that?
20/30 04.20.09 - Mumbling Hands
My ears
breathed in the sigh of
betrayal...
"It was her...",
marched through my brain,
caressing
sharp lies
into my heart.
The denial was bitter,
metallic honey as it rose
up in my throat,
stopping at the tip
of my tongue.
I couldn't do it, say
"No, it wasn't me, I didn't do it."
I could feel their
disbelief already peering
inside of me, turning me
inside out, not to believe a single word.
I did not bother
to hold on to hope by its feet
while they made me eat that crow of lies
with the sight of their rising hands.
I felt their half-hearted mumbling hands
telling me they knew the truth as they whipped me for her lie.
The stench of a first time beating.
Never have I ever smelled their anger before now,
though I know it will linger...
...
Sister's shadow faded into the mountain of toys,
her smirk twinkling in the broken pieces of the vase
she broke while running around.
I guess for once, she didn't want to be the blame because
their mumbling hands were not new to her.
But I guess for me,
well, everyone has to have a first time...
Even if it's based on lies.21 - 30/30 4/21-30/09 - a mixture of work, especially introducing an Ekphrastic Lune Loop21/30 - Haiku
fiercely haunting, an
exile so foreign, it is
lost among blood lines.
22/30 - Haiku
metaphysical,
a bare boned need for the tongue
to meet a lapsed death.
23/30 - Haiku
a border wrapped in
laced cotton never stopped skin
from emerging black.
24/30 - Haiku
there is a breaker
in all value of life: out
living yourself now
25/30 - Random
oceans could sparkle
and nothing under a
brilliant sun could cause
waves like your smile,
not even an act of God.
26/30 - Haiku
only in heart have
i declared that i could bleed
this lust in your hands.
27/30 - Sneak Peak from a Haiku Chapbook: Two
a silent screen ties
my tongue around my stomach,
shamed by my fool heart.
28/30 - Sneak Peak from a Haiku Chapbook: Eight
and woman is she,
who made me storm in between
my legs by first glance.
29/30 - Bowling Green
the death of the
butterfly
reminds
me that evolution
is
useless:
all eyelids stop
fluttering
whether you are
the caterpillar
or
the butterfly.
30/30 - Ekphrastic Lune Loop (10 lunes, one poem, exercise from poetry club)
a poem rides
on the body of the
train, visibly hidden
shadow people block
the bright message etched horizontally
on brick rails
i remember a
starfish, bus, sand and mother
hovering in imagination
in the wedding,
communion of a family, white
decorating the past.
old woman in
cafe used to stare at
my hungry disobedience
while playing tag
with my youth, a friend
slowly fading away
i used to
leave my brother behind while
i chased adulthood
jumping upside down
on the sands of hot,
risky, white danger
riding in the
family care in 1960, pressed
against cool posing
and i hug
a violent movement with message
pressed on back.
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