Author: poetryfest

Runnion ran
Through my mind
Last night I couldn’t find
An answer why
We had to die

Runnion ran
Away from me
‘Twas a mystery
At the time
Hitherto she was so kind

Runnion ran
An arrow through my heart
But I did not start
To notice the array
Of damage until today

Runnion ran
Years ago
Why did I not know
She was the one
And not the other that made me undone

Runnion ran
To my side
The day the music died
And let me confide
What I tried to hide

Runnion ran
Her fingers through my hands
Seeming my only friend
She had showed
What the other never knowed

Runnion ran
My spirits high
Showed me a light
In my darkest day
Made me not afraid

Runnion ran
From my gratitude
Suppose I acted rude
Not know exactly how to
Say thank you

Swelled by humidity
the mountain is a green cemetery
hiding men and ages
people may not believe in the valley
everyone is walking I hear
death echoing in tunnels
dark or grey, black or green
itching like a whore
whose hand has clutched everything
every song is a lament
conspiring with rains, winter, summer
autumn, storm, wind, sun, moon
it’s hardened, cruel, a green stone
nourishing the dirge
we crown death

–Ram Krishna Singh

Before the day I received news of your
wedding, I thought our friendship flowed beyond
Limits. Eighteen years of silly jokes,
Exchanged advice and counting boys we once
Had crushes on; yet you preferred the pit
In your avocado. Visits to your home
Were endless, though your promise to return
The favor, joined the pile of books never
Perused. Unopened chats and calls ignored,
Unmasked the rusting bond once shared and envied.
Our trip to the mountains gets cancelled, plans with Fay
Becomes your goal. Your sudden care surprised
Me, raising doubts about the gifts you gave me.
There’s no need closing the gap between us,
I believe space is what we both need.

Uncle Ricky, a Gentle Giant
Uncle Ricky, a brilliant soul
He gave his near and dear a softer grace
With his gap-toothed smile on his face
His laugh filled a room as he told his vivid stories.
A smooth swagger, a heart in bloom
A brother, father, mentor, uncle, friend, and garden healer
When he gave advice, it felt like gold
And wasn’t afraid to be bold
Uncle Rick, sharp and fly with a thinking grace
He could light a flame with his looks and charm.
He was a plant whisperer, sunshine sower, and dream weaver
But when he felt ill, the skies grew gray
But he was finding a way
Whether it was a wink, a grin, a knowing nod, or with God’s guidance.
Now, when I work and continue to help clients heal with massage
He is a light within my legacy
Forever etched in every part
His presence reminds me of God’s power that never yields
His memory will always be my quiet and enlightening guide
His love won’t cease, his story shall forever rise, and lives
So we just don’t say goodbye, see you later
As you remain, a star eternally in the skies

Hospital walls towered over me like a vault
too large to comprehend, and I stood there,
small and insignificant,
trying to grasp the weight of its closing door.
The sterile air bled through my skin a cold draft
of debts I couldn’t pay each visit a withdrawal
a slow drain of everything I had-
emotions reduced to balances on a ledger,
the quiet screams I couldn’t afford to voice.

They poked and prodded,
trading in tests and scans like the most worthless of coins,
exchanging pieces of us for answers that never arrived,
while I remained a spectator, standing outside,
watching hope become a currency too high to exchange.

The waiting room, a vault of silence, held everything fragile—
the kind of fragile that could shatter at any time,
as though we had entered a market with no price tag
and were told to pay whatever we had.
I learned what it meant to grow up too soon,
to face the truth that the world is broken,
and no matter how many tears I shed,
the system never even blinked.
I didn’t know which was worse—
seeing you in pain,
or feeling powerless,
unable to understand why I couldn’t help.
They told us to stay hopeful,
but hope felt like a currency we couldn’t afford.

I learned to stay quiet,
to swallow questions that burned like acid in my throat.
I learned to smile when you smiled,
to pretend the fear in your eyes wasn’t mirrored in my own.
I watched you suffer,
and somehow it felt like I was being broken too,
shattered by the weight of a system that couldn’t see us,
that didn’t know us,
that didn’t even care about us.
Every day,
a little piece of me shattered—
not only from the pain you endured,
but from the suffocating helplessness
that gripped me,
Silent, and relentless.

Before the day I received news of your
wedding, I thought our friendship flowed beyond
Limits. Eighteen years of silly jokes,
Exchanged advice and counting boys we once
Had crushes on; yet you preferred the pit
In your avocado. Visits to your home
Were endless, though your promise to return
The favor, joined the pile of books never
Perused. Unopened chats and calls ignored,
Unmasked the rusting bond once shared and envied.
Our trip to the mountains gets cancelled, plans with Fay
Becomes your goal. Your sudden care surprised
Me, raising doubts about the gifts you gave me.
There’s no need closing the gap between us,
I believe space is what we both need.

This poem is dedicated to the Fortieth President of United States, Ronald Reagan,

If it wasn’t for your relentless deregulation,
For truth, justice and freedom prescribed by corporations,
Your complete and utter disconnect from anyone who wasn’t born with a silver spoon up their ass,
The utter pissing on the 99%,

Your gutting of welfare,
The annihilation of social programs,
After school programs,
Music programs,
Your complete and utter disregard for the middle class,
Working class,
Poverty stricken,

Your contempt for those struggling,
For those living paycheck to paycheck,
For the tired, hungry, and weak,
The incarcerated,
People of any color other than green,
The malice you showed towards people, children, sleeping on floors,
Being bitten by bed bugs, coach roaches, lizards, mice and rats,
For defunding mental health programs,
For throwing the mentally ill out to the streets,

If it wasn’t for your crimes against your own citizens,
For leading America towards the Great Trainwreck,
For firing people who want nothing more than to live,

You will always be remembered for what you are,
Not a crappy actor turned politician,
For being Wallstreet’s favorite Commander and Chief.

Bear me your soul
so I can show you who I am
Spill me your thoughts
so I can free my own

Burn me‒
so I can peel.

I placed my hand on the red hot eye,
eye to eye as you stab me in the back.
Back before the memories were all that stayed;
stayed with you while you were in pain.
Pain flowing through the space between,
between the lies that you told.
Told myself to pull away.

A way to be free is all I need,
Need to pull my hand from the burning.
Burning down all that was left,
Left me addicted to the feeling you cause;
Cause me to lose myself in time,
Time spent wasted your words.
Words screaming to fill a void.

Avoid the blaze with my hand now,
Now living with not even your face.
Face the world where you could never remain;
Remain scarred from the ache in my heart.
Heart on my sleeve as grieve,
Grieve the friendship that was never clean.
Clean the stove with no heat.

I lived my life a
MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL,
unconventional and giving my world to a slew of men.
Next in line!
Just the next stop on the train,
destination: anywhere but here!
They love my world- NOT my person.

They love that I’m not average,
that I’m a dropout- a bartender,
that I’m full of all this wisdom that doesn’t make much sense.
Eccentricity,
creativity,
I think differently from everyone else.
They’re never bored with me!

I inspire them to do more for their lives.
They leave this town,
yet I keep finding myself back here.
Like I’m the toll booth attendant,
showing everyone the way out,
but cursed to stay.
They soak it all in and when they get their fill,
they move on with their life-
minds broadened and memories cherished.

I never see them again,
solely on Instagram with their long-term girlfriends,
getting engaged,
having babies,
going to college and landing their dream careers.
And I’m left here in the dust,
the ashes of those memories they hold so dear
burns me to the bone.

I just want someone to stay-
to see that I’m more than my odd hobbies
and lack of traditionalism.
I’m a person,
not a dream girl.
I want to find me, too