Author: poetry_3ksn2y

Bryan L. // WHY HE CHOSE HER

All his life he told himself he didn’t need one.
That it would be better if he had none,
so what if she looked cute.
He could still keep his mouth shut and mute.

He used to hang out with those he knew,
but this was something entirely new.
This was love he was trying to deal;
a force that he knew he could not forever seal.

He had tried to stay in the shadows.
He was not willing to score or bleed in any battles,
but this girl could be his treasured wife.
Why let something like this control your life?

He finally knew she was the one,
It was either her or none.
He might as well give a try,
as it was much better than to lie or cry.

He chose her since she was the best.
He fell for her and passed his conflicted quest.
When he believed himself to be totally lost,
he actually what he wanted without any cost.

Caroline Palys // MY BACKYARD

As I was putting my dog outside one day,
I realized how perfect my backyard looked in the moment.
The snowflakes that were falling from the clouds
Enough for one to notice, but subtle enough so you’re not distracted From the rest of the scene
My backyard
The same backyard that’s littered with wiffle balls in the spring
The one with lounge chairs and hammocks in the summer.
And the one hidden by a thin layer of snow
That my dog is destroying with every step.
But the flakes don’t seem to notice.
Because they continue to fall from the sky.
Nestle themselves in between blades of grass, and other snowflakes Erasing the paw prints
Like she wasn’t even there.

Owen H. // STILL, THE SEA GRASS GROWS

The sun was the last thing to leave him;
the loss not lost on him, yet.
Not even the beach brought him peace of mind,
one more boundary for the sea to transgress.
The sky? A waste of a canvas!
The beach but a smashed hourglass.
Let it be!​ said he, watching sea-grass grow.
All things must pass.

Then he fell, parallel to the ocean.
Blink. Enveloped in black.
Waves tear at the spot where his feet were once planted
for that of all things brings him back.

All things must pass.

Jacqueline Cheng // AN ODE TO MY JEAN’S POCKETS

You know that feeling
When you find a perfect pair
That end up dispossessing
Functional pockets?

And even if it did have pockets,
They were so insubstantial
That you couldn’t fit
Half your hand into those channels.

As for the back handles,
Which can never hold a smartphone
Without it falling into purgatory.
They must get a kick from my misery.

I get it.
They have to be nonexistent
In order to be visually appealing
But guys have humongous pouches,
So why can’t we?

Nicholas Favazzo // VENDING MACHINE

A1                                A2                         A3

What’s next?

I am not in the business of placing bets

But C5 has been selling so fast, be hasty

And F3 is looking ever so tasty

And for the customer looking for more

I head D2 has cookies galore

But if it were me choosing, I have a hunch,

If I had a penchant for a tasty munch,

I would look past the chips and treats,

For I have no interest in sugary sweets,

I would go right past the old vendor itself

And grab a fresh apple from my own shelf

Lavanya L. // JEALOUS

A flower of Vengeance,
Birthed from the embers of the hearth within
Its hues, which Majestically Mimic flames,
Sway,
As if it were faltering, stuttering,
Trying to find the right words
To say.

When distraught,
it bellows Like a Beast,
Rising from the recess
Of your soul.

It appears like a small,
Unimportant thing
A meager chore
Left undone,
Or perhaps a shoelace
Left untied.

But don’t be fooled
Look past the smoke screen it has conjured,
Keep your eyelids unfurled,
For this,
This is what it desires

It craves
To be concealed,
It yearns
To be unseen
Why you ask?

So it can sink its talons
And grow roots in your mind,
Distorting
Your clarity.
As it sets its opinion in stone,

You surrender
Your supremacy
You let it take the wheel
As it drives straight towards
The brink
Of your sanity.

Anna F. Honohan // DESPERATION FOR YOUTH

Dying roses
Lose their vibrance
Petals fade
Red to brown
Smooth to shriveled
The girl picks off the
Roses dying petals
Hoping to remove any
Sense of its death
Greying hairs
Once full of color,
Now lose their vibrance
Brown to grey
Silky to coarse
The woman plucks off her
Dying hairs
Desperate to remove any
Sense of her death

Amanda Flashner // MISS YOU

September 2007
“Girls I need to talk to you”
“Okay dad”
“Your mom has been diagnosed with a carcinoma ”
“Ooh, cool! Is that like a superpower?”
“No, she is very sick, but will fight”
“Okay, can we go outside now?”

October 2007
My mom told me she would be losing her hair.
She was going to shave it off on Rosh Hashanah,
It means head of the year,
the Jewish new year.
My beautiful mother,
She is fighting for her life.

January 2010
Mom, do you have cancer?”
She looks startled,
I just figured out the secret.
“Yes, honey I do”
“Will you die?”
“I will do everything in my power not to”

November 2011
My mom just had major surgery.
The surgery was a success.
Her lifelong dream was to see giraffes.
For her birthday we are surprising her,
We are going to see giraffes.

August 31, 2012
Today is my 10th birthday
It is the last birthday I will have with her
She got me rollerblades and a card.
It’s a smiling ostrich

November 2012
I get a text
my mom has been admitted into the ICU
They need to operate immediately
She doesn’t know when she will be home.
The surgery is a failure,
She will never eat again.

December 19, 2012
She is still in the ICU
Today is her birthday,
she is turning 56
I write her a letter.
I don’t think she will remember it,
but it starts with
“you are the best person I have ever known,
Please keep fighting, I can’t lose you yet.”

January 2013
My mom is home again.
She is still dying, but maybe there is hope, right?
No.
The doctors sent her home to die.
24/7 nurse care, watching my mom be fed with IVs and tubes,
I don’t care, I can’t lose her.
I won’t.
I cry myself to sleep each night

She is still the light in my life,
she is still fighting,
for the 10-year-old daughters, she will never see graduate,
get a job,
live their lives.
I hope what she has is enough.
I hope she is proud.

February 25, 2013
6:00 pm a call comes.
Nobody will tell me what’s going on.
WHAT IS GOING ON?
She couldn’t have died yet… right?
The last thing I say as I walked out of the room is
“I love you, and I hope I see you again.”
What if I never see her again?
My dad walks in
He can’t be here.
If he’s here it means my world is ending.
“Girls, your mother passed away”
I let out a heart clenching scream that shakes the walls.
She’s gone and there is nothing I can do.
I fall asleep that night with tears running down my cheeks.
I am 10 years old and I just lost my mother
The one person who is supposed to be there for me.

My mother lived,
The first year,
The second year,
The third year,
The fourth year,

The fifth-year she died.
She is the best person I will ever know,
She was strong, beautiful, intelligent, and kind
She taught me how to be better in everything I do,
to love, and hope no matter how difficult.
I love her and always will.

Jennifer Li // LIGHT

Light is a wavelength of radiant energy,
The flicker of a lamp within sightless night,
A flashing streak of brilliance followed by the grumbling of the  sky,
The glowing of coal which bursts into flame.

Light is a gleam of white sun upon a frozen lake,
A glinting reflection suspended in ice from a frozen rooftop,
A droplet of water slipping shyly down a freckled window,
The sharp crack of crystal upon pavement.

Light is a brilliant blue sky,
A delicate red rose bathing in winter sun,
A crumbling orange leaf forgotten from the month before,
A shuffling indigo boot through flakes of white.

Light is a weightless feather carried by wind,
A fluttering winter bird gliding through whispering air,
A green balloon lazily adrift in winter sky,
A delicate snowflake in search of earth.

Light is dead weight lifted from the mind,
The touch of fingers dancing across a piano,
The gentle hand of a friend resting on your shoulder,
A small joke shared between friends.

Light is what you make of it.

Nick Porter // WHAT WE DON’T SEE

Like a baby bird
Harnessed to its nest
Humans when young
Cannot see much else

Blind at first
Their eyes only see one thing
The bright light of the sun
Is all that seems to be

With the passing of time
Comes the gain of sight
Now there is darkness too
That consumes the light

Jumping out of their nest
They fall far from home
Hurt by this cruel new world
Seeing past what’s bright