Poetry – Spilled Ink

before i could remember

part 2 ~nine~ You watched yourself bleed, red blossoming against a manilla pillow. Your teacher walked you to the nurse’s office, where you cried tears of humiliation. Am I dying? You asked yourself. Am I dying? ~ten~ The year your grandfather passed away. ~eleven~ The year you thought you would receive your Hogwarts letterContinue reading “before i could remember”

before i could remember

part 1 ~nothing~ Something even the Greeks couldn’t understand. The pulsing of my mother’s womb—turbid and hollow; slick like the sound of a pallet struck against a gong. Empty. Pristine. It was like coming out of a vacuum where the white silence that cloaked you in the womb was drowned out by the obtrusive somethingness,Continue reading “before i could remember”

Let Me Trace Your Heart

Let me trace your heartWith fingers that do not shakeI know your soul is fragileBut I promise it won’t break.Let me see your woundsLay them open and lay them bare…It’s been so long since poetry Has flowed from these lipsLet me share…Show me your ocean eyesAnd if they spiral or shatter like glassI’ll beg youContinue reading “Let Me Trace Your Heart”

Song of 3 Crows Excerpt-

This is an excerpt from a longer story I wrote as part of my senior capstone. I used a hybrid medium of prose, free-verse poetry, and art. I’ve attached 2 poems below: Monsoon.Shiva is dancing. His feet strike the gates of heavenAnd the earth shudders. Fear sizzles through my veinswhen i hear Her cry;in aContinue reading “Song of 3 Crows Excerpt-“

I don’t tell myself ‘I love you…’

I don’t tell myself ‘i love you”I let the sun caramelize my skinI watch the ocean lazily traceAll of the places that I’ve beenI bury my toes in ancient soilLift my head to an indigo skyI am buoyed by the silenceAnd the absence of so-called time.I’ll make myself a picnic:strawberries and a cup of chai;fallContinue reading “I don’t tell myself ‘I love you…’”

Fireflies

I’ve touched God beforeHeld him in my handsA small specimen throbbing with lightWhile suffocated by a blanket of duskA beacon of hopeI’ve seen God kiss the grassWith his lusterAnd muster up a glow so magicalIt permeates the dewey summer airI’ve seen him flickerFade in and out Like stars Even though he’s always thereClose enoughTo beContinue reading “Fireflies”

through the ages…

My six year old selfBelieved in fairiesShe would scavenge in our backyardAnkles caked with mudDigging for earthwormsAnd buried treasureNot knowing the treasure that was staring her right in the face My seven year old self Liked to escapeBetween the binding Of a torn paperback She dog-eared pages With her tiny hands And thought there wasContinue reading “through the ages…”

dear dead butterfly:

I wonder when you learnedthat beauty is immortal Yesterday I saw yousoaring through thepouring rainorange and black wingssoddenLike coffee stainson parchment paperBut today you are nothing But a piece of poetry crumpled by gods fists Lying on the side of the roadWith ants gnawing at your feetDear dead butterfly, Who gave you wings?Who spawned you from your silk-spunContinue reading “dear dead butterfly:”

i’m 17

and there’s a picture above my father’s desk ofa little girlon his back, giddywith joyand smiling ear to ear I’m 17and this is when I start to wonderWhere all the time wentWhen leisurely mid-afternoon walksCatching cottonwood seeds like FairiesTurned into hoursCloistered indoorsAnd growing became somethingUglyI’m 17And people tell me”You don’t need to have it allContinue reading “i’m 17”

i’ve picked up the same book

about a dozen timesnot realizing that I am still living between margined lines.The same story again and againlike a broken record.The same tale with the same endingwhich never gets any better.So I picked up another book on the shelfRead it once or twiceAnd noticing the blank pageswithout hesitationbegan to write. I wrote myself a libraryIContinue reading “i’ve picked up the same book”