A poem I submitted for a contest on YWP. . . the prompt was birds:

take these broken wings~

i. healing is a process

ii. she finds this out when

she falls, when everything 

shatters 

and it’s so hard to even move. 

iii. broken wings are irreparable, 

google tells her, except by humans

and even though she knows

 deep down that she's alone

but she’s okay with that

she’ll do it herself if it means

avoiding the pain

iv. no pain, no gain

is what her father always tells 

her after soccer practice

but everyone has a breaking point

maybe he doesn’t know that too much

pain is no gain. 

v. you don’t feel the weight of your wings until you can’t use them

vi. she builds up her walls like a nest, 

interwoven and sturdy, nothing is allowed

to pass through. it’s easy at first, then it 

becomes harder to shut everyone out

but she knows that she can’t do it 

again. 

vii. what google doesn’t know is that broken hearts can’t be healed

viii. she is stronger now, she can feel it,

she takes tentative steps, light, no weight 

on her feet because one push is all it takes

to push her over the edge. she knows this too. 

viii. and then she’s falling again 

so she lets herself fall because sometimes 

it feels like she’s trying to save someone

who doesn’t want to be saved

ix. the thing about impact is that you can’t feel it until it’s too late

x. the second time, she makes no mistakes

they tell you that the first time is the hardest 

and it really is. no lies this time. 

xi. she can still feel the fractures 

where bone separated but they’re only 

internal scars and aren’t scars supposed 

to be symbols of triumph? 

xii. this time when she falls, she pulls herself up and soars 

up 

up

and 

away 

~~~~~~

I'd love some critique, as usual, and if any of y'all have YWP accounts, they have a really great poetry club on one of the forum threads!  

to riley (nightfall)

i. you are something like razor edge

geometric sharp angles, the color of

electrical tape, a tang of

metallic quarter smell and

sickly sweet tangerine, or a pharmacy,

you sound like wind chimes in a hurricane

ii. you are a perfect 90 degrees,

although chaotic, you turn off the

lights but i know of the havoc in your shadows

iii. you are a film photograph, black and white,

double exposure, it evens out to gray

there are two masks- Melpomene and Thalia,

(you often choose the latter,

but only to save face) 

iv. you are broken 8-tracks and flat keys,

but still melodic, it sounds like

misery if you listen- a clandestine meaning,

something imperceptible but completely

clear in my mind, i get it when i hear you,

i want to listen, i want

to learn, i want to

know 

v. remember that night is good,

we all love the moon but even he

has a dark side. 

~~~

So I finally wrote something. This was a prompt I've used before, write a poem about a friend. I'd like to hear critique as always :)

I've written a lot of poetry recently. Here's one of the better ones.

——

blue boy

you love her, she who isn't me,

and i know how that is to want to give it all but

you don't want to be stardust, trust me.

it is not what you think to die, my

beautiful boy. 

don't be noble, not yet, not now,

we've got neon in our veins, honey, we're

special but i can't glow alone. 

i'm here and selfish and need you,

so don't leave me here, all alone, blue boy,

my darling spacey dreamer

with the star-splashed eyes—

it is not what you think to die. 

And another!

——

lonely

please,

lie and say you love me,

though i know it isn't true.

do it anyway 

because i still love you

in the corners of my mind, ,

because i'm still sorry,

even if you aren't,

because i'm not anyone's everything

but i'm yours—

because it's 3am

and i'm lonely

just for you. 

I wrote this last night. I was trying to imitate something like September's style, but it turned out pretty different...anyway, I'd love critique!

Back to Summer

It seems like just

yesterday we were

staying out late in the

dark warm air.

Muffled laughter ringing through the

blocks and pounding sneakers

on asphalt--

playing tag in the

streets and sometimes just

sitting there on someone's steps.

Flashlight beams sweeping across

our grassy backyards and running figures--

and the sweets smell of summer

air and dying lilacs.

Thoughts shared in the darkness and jokes

laughed over while the breeze whipped our

hair around and we smiled.

Old jeans and t-shirts worn because it

didn't really matter--no one

could see you anyway.

And then there were smuggled

sparklers that we lit so it smelled

like the 4th of July

while we held the tips together to make

an airborne bonfire.

Now I want to

go back to summer

so we can repeat it all and our laughter will 

float through the streets again.