Author: poetryfest

Fold and press until th edges stay.
Don’t burn your fingers
and keep your hair out of the way.

Measured meters and ripped seams,
Clip and curse and sweep and steam,
make use of the faded reams.

Count an inch and mark with a pen.
Box the corners and curse the bobbin.
Check the back and sew it again.

4 in the morning

The farmers come to pop us out of our amniotic sacs,
tossing us into the daily grinder;
every body counts
to keep the Machine alive.

They instruct us, but never teach.
We memorize facts, but forget how joy once felt.

We pledge allegiance —
some of us will break that vow
the day we wake up
with dust in our mouths
and truth between our teeth.

They test us but never challenge.
We know answers, but never wisdom.

We boast achievements
without achieving,
never nearing
the person we were born to become.

Trauma greets me in the morning
Growing legs and stretching to lay beside Grief and I
My spearmint tea is poured with with tears of solitude steeped into my being

My phone dings, a message from the socials

this “relative” seeking to be absolved
“Hey I saw this *grief story* made me think of you (from a person I haven’t heard from since 2 days after Dad died)”

Next a message from 3:06 am…
“I know I haven’t been there for you with your grief after your dad. I hope you’re doing better”

The closer to the holidays, the closer I am to the realm of Dante’s Inferno.

So many levels to choose from…

So this is like the ex that called me out of my name once, 4 days after my Dad died. We then broke up.

This is like the man that I thought was a friend when my sister was experiencing that aneurysm (2 months after Dad died) but showed me his unsolicited penis and opinion instead.

This is like the person I thought was a friend told me, I don’t want to be around you when you’re like this. Can we try to see where you’re at in a few months?

This is like when that other “bestie” never initiated contact. Never uttered a word. Nor the other bestie because “I was a downer”.

This is like when I needed support and love and was met with the attention of my lonesome loneliness.

This is the part of the story where I can’t make this shit up,

They’ll say it’ll get better. I’m waiting now like I’m waiting for the 14 trying to get to work. Hummingbirds knew to find the best method of recovery —fly in any direction but love yourself enough to leave

Follow me from mountains borne
From marshes rare, green
And paths well worn
And I shall show you a riveting brook
That babbles from the deep,
All the secrets you hold so dear
All the lies you try to keep.

Follow from Titania’s flowery bed,
Where the fool with asses’ ears still lays
Come swift, come wise, like Bonnie Janet wed
Forget your cloak, let passion smoke
The nights cool dim creates diamonds within
As proof of love’s eternal blaze

The stars above are my haven, you see
The world below is far too cruel
We dance to drum and fife while mortals cry and plea
From the realm beyond the ring of toadstools

O, leave the day and cares away
Diane’s foresters’ are we
Merry castaways all, heed not curtain call,
When the young prince cries, “The play is the thing!”
Live the sweet dream, for players we be
Strumming, mocking fate as Orpheus sings
The mortal truth, life is never free
Sit with me,
Have a pomegranate seed.
And dance with us, till your eternal sleep.

Follow me from mountains borne
From marshes rare, green
And paths well worn
And I shall show you a riveting brook
That babbles from the deep,
All the secrets you hold so dear
All the lies you try to keep.

What is the most beautiful thing you saw recently? How did it make you feel? 𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢
𝔑𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔱,
𝔑𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔧𝔬𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰,𝔑𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰,
𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱’
𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤,
𝔑𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞 𝔑𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱,
𝔞𝔰 𝔦𝔣 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤,
𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔰 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤,𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔲𝔦𝔫𝔰,
𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔪𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤,
𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤,
𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔰,
𝔡𝔬𝔫’
𝔱 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢.
𝔅𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡
𝔎𝔦 𝔨𝔦

Incandescent lights above terracotta statues
Paint stoic faces yellow;

They stand in near-perfect lines
as a wall of glass separates them
from nameless men in white shirts
with a nation’s emblem on their left breast.

The men hammer words into their ears
through a circular hole;
Papers fly toward a mud face
through a waist-height slit in the glass.

Sun dried clay falls back
like an array of dominoes;
Terracotta heads meet the tile
as brown-faced dreams scatter across the floor.

When you’re denied
All of the nice things in life
It stings

Try to alleviate that pain
With your favorite poison
A promising painter did that

He died
Yet his apartment
Went up in flames

But his painting of me
Remained untouched
By the flames

When denied
All things becomes
Pins and needles

It happened to me countless times
When I am applying for a job
Or submitting literary works

For free with no money
All I can do is get high
On pain

Because I love pain
So much
I bottle it up

I wonder how
It feels when you gain acceptance
It feels good

They said
After being accepted
For their works

Gaining all of the fame, the fortune and fan adoration
For all the right reasons
Or the wrong reasons

If not scampering on a tree
and for its long and bushy tail,
it could be a chipmunk.

It must be a young kit
just out of the nest.
But how boldly it scurries
up and down our old poplar!

Now, down on the ground,
it pauses, looks about, sniffs—
fearful, excited, curious?—
roves through the grass,
stops, crouches, then springs,
leaps onto the birdbath
in one fluent bound,
perches lithely on the rim,
pauses, smells, inspects,
flicks its reddish tail,
dips its head to the water,
and drinks . . .
and drinks . . .
and drinks . . .

So small, so quick, so thirsty!
Weaned from mother’s milk,
its thirst for life still unquenched,
it now guzzles thirstily
from nature’s wellspring,
to nourish the surging vitality
of supple young sinews and organs
and to savor novel sensations:
the discoveries, fears, and delights
of its first furtive forays
out of the nest into the world,
a skittish, quivering plunge into
the vibrant, mysterious flow of life.

Maybe it’s flaunting its agility,
proving its incipient skills,
showing off its fragile beauty
for its mother, who is watching—
fearfully, anxiously, proudly?–
from a far-off treetop nest.
And for another mother,
gazing through the window
as she sips her breakfast tea.

For the first guy I’ve ever liked,
I dreamed of marrying him in Disney
I planned out a wedding and everything
But of course nothing happened, I was three
He thought I was a weirdo which I was
And threw out all the cards I gave him

The second guy I’ve ever liked
I fell for him HARD
I became friends with his friends
I was pretty much a wildcard
I fell for too long and eventually
He told his friends that he didn’t like me

The third guy I’ve ever liked I drove INSANE
I watched baseball and came to every single game
He loved baseball more than he could love me
I was too blind to see that unfortunately

The fourth guy I’ve ever liked was my friend from school
About 6 foot 4, and everyone thought “he’s cool.”
I learned all the tricks and the games in lacrosse
Until he found a girl, she bullied me, then hope was lost

The fifth guy I’ve liked, I have nothing bad to say
He’s so precious and kind, and good in everyway
Except for the fact that he’s so handsome I didn’t stand a chance
He met a girl named Lily and she’s his date to the dance
For this guy I didn’t do much except trying to look pretty,
Because I started comparing myself to Lily.
I realized through him I need to grow up from fantasy
Because boys like him will never love me.

The sixth guy I’ve liked was a pain in my ass
If life was an airplane he’d be in first class
Tight end linebacker of my emotions
I studied his religion and tried to
make love potions
He was even worse than guy three
Was, is, and will forever be

The seventh guy I’ve liked is who I like now
He’s also out of reach, but closer somehow
I’ve started eating healthier, hoping to slim down
But that just leads to late night indulging
I like him so much but he’s in love with someone else
So i just sit here waiting like an elf on the shelf
Wishing he’ll see something in myself
He’s too flirty with me to set me
And I don’t think I want to get set free