Author: poetryfest

i didn’t realize that the five stages of grief
could be felt all at once
yet not at all
for what i feel cannot be described
by any word in the human vocabulary

denial? or more like trapped
in what i could only wish would be a
never ending nightmare
for at least that would mean
that somewhere people are awake
in a world in which you live

anger is not an emotion i can feel
for your compassion envelops
us and moves us beyond

sadness, i do
selfishly i know
for you lived a life to which
you were at peace with leaving
i just wish it were one that i could be a part of
for longer

will i ever accept, i fear i do not know
but today and tomorrow
we celebrate through the woe

They glided down gilded halls
While adorned with precious gems
Their robes were intricately woven
As were their tapestries spun with gold

We slept in holes festering with disease
While creatures crawled in every crevice of our homes
We wore garments torn and bereft of any opulent finery
Our hands were marred by toil and sacrifice
A testament to our dreams slipping away under the weight of relentless effort and unrequited
hope

Jusqu’où nous sommes venus, et pourtant jusqu’où nous devons aller

We cradled hope like a frightened child In the dead of night
Our cries drowned out in their mirth carried far over gales
We may lack what they revere
But we will never be void of what truly matters

The day dawn breaks it sweeps the land with silence
It crawls across their skin and lays siege to their souls
It carries a chill into their arms and caresses their cheeks
But still its flames lap at our feet and kiss us in sweet farewell

Jusqu’où nous sommes venus, et pourtant jusqu’où nous devons aller

You know love is interesting
It’s also terrifying
I fell for my best friend
But I didn’t say anything
Cause I didn’t want our friendships end
But in come two with insanity to spend

Enter croutons and kansas’ communist
Without them we wouldn’t exist
When I was told I was my best friends love
I just couldn’t resist
And now we fit like a glove
Even when things were rough

I just want to flood her lips with kisses
And when I’m alone it’s she who I misses
I never before have I wanted to get maridal
Now I want to make her Mrs.
Shes cute and cuddled
And if I said she wasn’t gorgeous I’d be befuddled

Only eight years I have to wait
My only regret being how long that takes
To make he mine
But now I’m writing between takes
Trying to see what is the next time
I can see her through thin white lines

I’ve now imagine a world
In a house with 2 boys and a girl
With my beautiful bride
As our life unfurls
Before my eyes
She was always my pride

Pick a part the pond
while you got me by hand
we was just babies.

Childish first love
you got me—by the pond
there is no exchange of kisses.

By hand you hand me
the beauties that grow
where we walk.

Tied into a string
around my wrist.
Something so simple

puts me over the moon.
Over there you say
death lays in a reptilian

an attempt to be manly.
I peck you at the cheek
while turning away from

where lifeless lies.
Unknowing the same
would become of us.

You’d draw the line
in rushing water—erasing,
and we grow a part.

I don’t remember my neighbors’ names anymore.
The family next door lives exactly thirty-five steps away,
Yet I have never knocked.
I think they have two sons, but I am not sure.
I have never seen them outside before.

I met Kaleb while working at an ice cream parlor last summer.
He would make me smile when my wrist hurt after scooping all day,
And we would go swimming in the ocean after our shift.
We hid our swimsuits all day under our red-striped uniforms.
I couldn’t look him in the eye after I found his Instagram,
And all of the pornstars he followed.

I remember walking into my first college class.
My parents had left me alone in an unfamiliar state on the other side of the country,
And I wanted to wear my favorite pair of cowboy boots that day.
My classmates wouldn’t listen to a word I said after they saw my shoes,
Even if they agreed with me.

I hate that it is more important to be efficient than human.
I hate that my friends do not write their essays.
I hate that they get the same grade that I do.
I hate that we eat perfectly plastic-wrapped poison.
I hate that my friends look at their phones when talking to me.
I hate that people care so much about suffering on the other side of the world,
But cross the street when they see a homeless man asking for a dollar,
But leave a sparrow with a broken wing to die alone in the rain.

Community is dying

And we are too lost in an algorithm to see it.

– Jodi Deadwood

Your eyes stare into mine and I
see empty pages waiting for
quill, waiting for ink, waiting
for all the words not yet
written. Blue eyes, an ocean
of shooting stars coming to life
in an hourglass, each breath,
each heartbeat, another particle
of time falling through the spine.

Your hands pull me gently in and I
feel unsung notes waiting
to be set free, waiting to be sung,
waiting for shattered silence to tear open
fragments of bone. Strong hands
moving with the current pulsating
on ripples of bated breath, each
touch, each caress, a movement
of yearning crashing through tidal waves.

Your lips graze mine and I breathe
quasars waiting to be
full, waiting to overflow, waiting
to hold all the light from this
midnight sky. Soft lips searching
for life in the upper atmosphere,
each leap, each lunge, another
whispered prayer wandering
through forest fires.

Your skin blends with mine and I
taste unfiltered rain drops waiting
for air, waiting for space, waiting
for waterfalls against a glass
canvas. Hot skin, reminder
that this moment simmers
in a kaleidoscope or summer,
each breath, each caress, each
lunge, a prophecy of bodies
falling through the spine, crashing
through tidal waves, wandering
through forest fires to skip a beat
and start again.

23.

Why would I be
scared of growing
old
Knowing you will
still look upon me?
I so look forward to
seeing your trunk
grow rings and
To be able to truly
Live my life as a
flower,
emphasizing the
Temporary.
To be able to sink
into the soil,
rot with the
underbrush,
and wilt under the
shade of your bough.

I miss you…
phoning
just to say hello.
I miss you…
calling
to hear about your day.
I miss you…
coming here to stay
giving me
your precious time.
I miss…
our travels together
taking in the sights
like kids set free
on a playground
finding pleasure
in exploring new things.
I miss…
your smile
sharing
hearty laughs.
I miss…
your affection
warm hugs
when you greet me
at the door.
I miss…
lying next to you
the warmth of
your physical presence
feeling secure
your arm wrapped around me.
I miss…
life with you
loving you
growing older with you.
Knowing…
You were my ONE.
I miss you.

Dear Father Time, I write to you
In greyed hair and wrinkled skin
In foggy recollection of many a welcome and adieu
Dusty trophies of varied hues in the trash bin

Matter you are not, or else I would have consumed you
Energy you are not, or else I would have used you
What currency are you that I can only spend
What beast are you that I now try to befriend?

Before, after, then, when exist in you
If my mind stayed still, would it be able to touch you
You, whose passage is marked by the sun and the moon.
Stand frozen, as lovers share ice cream on a single spoon!
Why is my poetry trapped in rhyme
It happened again, for the nth time!
To change how the words come out, I took many a class
Stop here or gently pass.

In the quiet moments between heavy breaths
Hearing two heartbeats sync as one
In the silence, words unspoken yet understood
Language is spoken in the intimacy of touch

To caress the canvas of skin, a masterpiece of texture and tone
Fingers tracing, lips meeting, creating a circle of desire
As if God himself pauses to witness
Not merely physical contact but a merging of souls

Passion in bloom, delicate and raw
The magnetic force that draws two together
As the addiction to passion seeps its roots
Creates a relentless yearning for another

Where every breath is a whisper of their name
Discovering another woven into your existence
As the universe conspired to bring our souls together
Living without them now was never a conceivable notion

As the grasp tightens with every heartbeat
Reminders of two souls so profoundly intertwined
And when vulnerability is met with understanding
Two strangers created a sanctuary of love