I wrote this in school today! The prompt was to write a ten-line poem describing what balance is or could be without using the word balance. (it became a bit of a social commentary.)

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A boy twirls on a line stretched above a swamp of greedy eyes,

following him as he spins and pivots.

The brown drinks up her birthday surprise -

she's always wanted to be in the circus.

At home, her family can barely scrape by.

The blue is fixated with a dry gaze,

one that comes from seeing the same movie too many times.

This isn't as good as the Cirque du Soleil he saw last week.

The boy swivels and whirls,

his well-practiced equilibrium reflected in the demographic far below. 

Here's the one that I wrote with Soren's prompt.

journey

let's begin our journey

to the farthest ends of the earth

and beyond that,

in search of all the time that we

have forgotten, lost, tossed carelessly

away in a spell of reckless,

happy joy

--

Also, I wrote a poem about the snow. I don't know if the formatting at the end will work....

in praise of the snow

----------------------

when it snows

at night the city is

lighter, somewhat, as streetlights reflect

off of the white, that blankets the ground and

sky. it seems like everything is whiter

and prettier, as the imperfect/perfect snow

covers all impurities completely for a little while

at least.

i lie awake, resting on my elbows on my pillow,

staring out the window, as the snow falls gently

down. in a warm cocoon of blankets, safe inside.

peacefully breathing in and out and imagining

tomorrow, filled with sledding and mouthfuls of snow.

"the frost on my window is like 

fractured glittering splinters of diamonds"

i will be asleep

soo

n 

Wrote a poem today from Abi's prompt, though I didn't use all the words, I liked how it turned out! 

dear time; 

in my hands one last time  

overload

blurred noises chase their tails

back-to-forefront

like the slap of hopscotch soles—

a singer’s upward croon,

piano chords slammed past coherency,

clipped words, voices parceled into gibberish.

honey-bodied monster languishes on newspaper clippings:

“lexophile, one who has a love for words.”

my father crosses his arms,

tan to grey to pink-tinged frowns,

and his mouth spouts a car alarm (yet i’m the oversensitive one).

“to write with a broken pencil—”l

i’d love words more if they were quiet, i decide, and sink

into the blue belly of this sagging sofa,

a small fish going off the deep end

(perhaps if i sit here long enough the fabric will close over my head).

i’m not scared of drowning,

i do it every day.

french class, the bus, stranger’s living room.

drop a phone in water, put a phone in rice—

my operating system’s saturated with steam.

faulty hard drive, volume locked in high gear,

stupid bawling baby too weak to take a hit.

my ears fill up with water.

it’s too loud, i can’t see a thing.

is my bra too tight? i think i can’t

breathe again.

This one doesn't have a title, I just really got into the flow-and-half-rhyming thing that it has.

---

by the way i

was in the front all the time and

all the time, slipping

can i turn back time?

la

la la up in the 

front once upon a far-off

time

found, and lost, at once,

starry-eyed

when i look up at the sky,

i find the beauty of people's lives 

can we connect two more people

like puzzle pieces? another

set of friends to find

each other

let's act kind to

each other now

i know i

lied,

so forget you ever said it and join

your faithless hand in

mine 

--- 

I wrote this a couple days ago, and it just stuck with me so much I had to post it. I had done this thing where I opened up the dictionary to random pages and had to choose a noun for myself from each page I landed on, and one or two adjectives. This is what came from it. (Clarification--I've never been in a situation like this.)

---

untitled--

your ruined hands hold a pile of violet petals out to me; spanning a heap of fluttering softness that you offer to me like it'll kill you if i don't take it

picture-perfect, isn't it? you, trying so hard and me, feeling like an awful duplicate of myself, about to hurt you so badly

you must think this is the worst time of your entire life, but i, i feel like when, at 1 a.m., i tend to find a happy contentment. i hate that i feel like that and feel so ready to destroy your heart. but it just feels right       

?

am i behind a ruse of smiles? it must seem to you like i am ready to accept your flowers but i, obviously (to me at least) am not, at all

i can't bring myself to harden my countenance. i'm sorry if you're getting false hopes. i'm sorry

(i push away your flowers)

(you choke on your heart)