CLOUDBUSTING – A POEM

CLOUDBUSTING – A POEM
(title inspired by the Kate Bush song)

CLOUDBUSTING

For the second time I asked

why the clouds were late

I grew rosemary on my

temples and collected

Vesper

               tines in the morning

 

wax of secrets and diaries of

beauty for

               the second time, a second time

the world was made with

paper and construction blue

 

I love it when

my stomach jokes

and when my elbow drove me to the lake

with a door, and I

remembered the last time my liver was

handed, crowned with

jewels and baskets of

oranges, the ones picked

last night rolled back twice

on some moss’s jealousy

 

I wonder why

I wonder

Why the second time

the clouds didn’t call today

 

H

If Thinking Could Be Blown Away

If Thinking Could Be Blown Away

Hello my readers, here is a poem I wrote for one of my poetry classes. It was recently workshopped but I thought I should share it in it’s original form, once edited and played around with I might post a new version. This is welcome to multiple interpretations which is something I discovered during the workshop. The title of the poem is inspired by MBV’s song “Blown a Wish”.

This poem is dedicated to many, to all, and to one.

Enjoy

Continue reading “If Thinking Could Be Blown Away”

Maybe

Maybe

A sad poem about conversations, just something I observed and a character formed.

 

Maybe if I’m still enough

I can float on conversations.

Maybe when there’s an opportunity

I won’t wait.

Maybe if I didn’t judge too hard

on myself, I’d talk in fragments.

Maybe if I start talking about what everyone likes

Maybe they’ll like me too?

 

H

I made a short song

Hello everyone, I made a short song from a poem I wrote. It’s just a demo of it so it’s not a finished product. I decided to play some chords and sing the poem as it came to me. It’s not the greatest but I like it and I hope to make it into a fuller song. Check it out on my SoundCloud Now!

 

– Men in Bikinis Women in Speedos –

Right words in the mouth

take the chance to make it out.

Making out to better times

brings the cool out of you.

What is right is right as gold,

who would like to try?

The sun is fun the moon brings tide,

to wash away, our guilt of the night.

 

H

Mustard

Mustard

 

Can I have some on the side

and give me some honey.

Mix it with the vinegar

and the mustard seed.

Paste on your skin and

beam in the sunlight

We pretend we are the sun

and color ourselves with rays of gold.

Let’s get old and brown.

 

Starving

Starving

 

Another one of my weird poems. I wrote this one without thinking about structure or anything. This morning I was going to get my fruit but found out that it all spoiled in a matter of a few day, mine was the only one that went bad, which was weird. So I made a story of a narrator based on that. I hope you enjoy it, I know its rusty! lol

Continue reading “Starving”

B & W

B & W

If I stare long enough you look fleshy.

Like a glistening wound, sliced into a smile.

And yes, our smiles meet,

and it’s like natures sweetened water.

It’s complicated, sometimes…

You see, the freckles like to get stuck in my teeth.

But I think better of it, for I learn more about you.

Since your water is sweet,

I sometimes I have tackiness on my fingers,

But I lick them and leave the stains.

I’d bee with you any season and any day

You never lose your smile, even if you feel bruised

If you are taken apart or left out in rims

I’d nap next to you and curve to your body.

What is left is just enough,

We only have so much time.

H

spectrum

spectrum

I haven’t written a poem in a long time. I thought about this one last night so I decided to write it down today. It didn’t come out like the first draft in my head but I think I got the idea down.

 

To make my colors change

You have to see to gradient

the fine lines of my pores

and the rouge to my pupils.

 

You make my colors change

what was once purple is now blue

what was once red is now green

and black to white.

 

Making my colors change-

I am a different person

I think I gave some of myself

to become something new

 

My colors changed from

newspaper to a carnival

the popcorn butter and the cotton candy twists

that satisfy the never-ending taste buds.

With the stars serving the neon lights

that change the mood over time.

 

H

 

 

 

 

p.

p.

 

Sometimes I stare at old pictures

not because of the memories but because

my mind likes to think and wonder

wonder where they are

did they mean to…

you know.

no, I never know

what to think in a situation of contact

So I resort to my photographs

My nice photographs

aligned by the edge

collaged in time.

But look at my photographs

Is there an admire, a thought that goes through your mind?

Do you ever wonder what happened after the pictures

and the last one there.

 

H

 

 

30 Days of Poetry: Day #12

30 Days of Poetry: Day #12

Day 12: Write a poem in the perspective of a stranger

 

I see her staring at me.

She looks like she ought to be a person that always stares, I know how she feels.

I’m staring back.

I’ll go back to my ways. But, I wonder. What are the chances of seeing that person again?

I wonder how many people looked at me and thought the same thing. I doubt it.

But it’s a thought.

What are the odds that I will see that woman again, the staring woman?

I won’t give it another thought, let me go on my day.

But, did she think the same thing too-

there she goes walking away.

Hm, will she see me again?

 

H

 

30 Days of Poetry: Day #11

30 Days of Poetry: Day #11

Day 11: Write a poem based on your favorite lyric

 

I am overcome by the process of living

With what they throw back and what I can catch

And I try to pull the buckets of tears over my sail

To take me out to the vastness.

And I see your arms and a stretch it made

From your skin brought a wave

Of a happy disaster, what a surprise.

And as the wave cast, Your sweat pushed me through,

To the undiscovered temples.

And your words salted my tongue and eyes

As bubbles orbed around me

And we floated past the waving grass.

 

H

 

“My life in an upturned boat, marooned on a cliff
You brought me a great big flood
And you gave me a lift
To care, what a gift
You tell me with your tongue
And your breath was in my lungs
And you float over the rift”

“Simple Song” by The Shins

30 Days of Poetry: Day #10

30 Days of Poetry: Day #10

Day 10: Write about the moon without using the words, bright, shine, dark, crator, and moon.

 

I always wonder how you still look glowing
Even though your skin is cracked and porous.
You give an aura at night, you still seem to beam.
I always wonder if you are ever alone,
do you have friends or want companionship.
I know it’s been 45 years since our last visit.
The closest I can get to you is by sea
I meet you at your ripe tide
As you pull me back and forth, back and forth.
I bet it is so quiet all the way up there
so I’ve made a song for you,
I’ll sing it to you through bubbles.
Your face is like a pie and I want to take a slice.
 I can see you smile crookedly on those fun nights,
And you carry me home on those long somber rides.

 

H

 

 

 

30 Days of Poetry: Day #9

30 Days of Poetry: Day #9

Day #9: write an honest poem about yourself, don’t hold anything back.

 

I relapse in my thoughts

And its a drug I can’t stop welcoming.

Don’t worry it’s not tangible, I can’t taste it, I can’t consume it.

Everyone has it. So I think it’s okay to feel this way.

 

I overthink and take too much time

To make a choice or to decide.

I tend to get mad, and days like this I stop everything.

People don’t know me to be crippled in cold,

but that means you don’t know me

 

I always get tired. I get tired of trying to be something.

I don’t care for crowds and loud people talking at the same time.

I prefer to be alone, or with one great person.

I feel that I can show you myself more

Otherwise, I won’t say much.

 

I force words out of my mouth and It feels like I’m throwing up acid

Becuase nothing sticks, it just burns a hole through an ear.

I can’t speak loud anyway and when I do

It’s always something wrong.

 

Then I stare at people

And I wish I could be you, him, her.

I wish I could feel pretty all the time and not let my jealous rage

make me angry for no reason.

I start to think I hate people.

 

I don’t realize this about me

I think I’ve earned to feel emotion and sadness from time to time

But all the time- that’s the issue.

It’s not good to drown others with me while I’m at it.

 

This isn’t an intervention, and I’m not trying to feel sorry for myself.

I don’t hate myself and I do find my company great.

I have grown to love my self, and I am learning to just

let it go.

 

I find myself cute and pretty. I find myself sexy.

I believe to be different.

I like the things I like, and I like how I give my heart and love and patience to many

I worry that I’ll get hurt. But I’ve been hurt many times before, not by a love

but from all.

 

But I always seem to still be here.

I’m here and so is everyone else.

I’m still working on myself and I haven’t figured out what is wrong sometimes.

 

I just know that there are so much more beautiful things to cry about.

 

H

 

 

 

30 Days of Poetry: Day #8

30 Days of Poetry: Day #8

Day #8: Describe a color without using the name of that color

Bubbly and Soapy and you see me at the corners of your eyes, but I am not at a primary state

Roses like to hold my name, but I am nothing like that puncture from that thorn.

I’m in your lips, in parts of your tongue. Sometimes on your nails and between your teeth.

I taste like cotton candy and smell like grapefruits. I erase the mistakes we’ve made and I help with yours.

I can dance on my toes for you, and I stereotype of the feminine, although I like men too.

You can hear the ocean in me if you hold me close, while I stick to you like watermelon juice.

I open like a lotus when you touch me. I bloom rarely like the sweetness of cherry blossoms

But I give myself, bathe in my lake and waterfalls of the blue moon

 

H

 

 

 

30 Days of Poetry: Day #7

Day #7: Write a poem about something that makes you happy.

 

To hear you in the air is blissing

And I want to celebrate my sensitivities

Nothing has to be done

Just as long as we can hear

 

The words of your music, and music

And the taste of your knowledge

Who would have known

that entering here would be without effort

 

Separated is lost and silent

I feel the need to touch and hear again

Pluses with Vibrations

Collect our joys in the pockets we share

 

Sounds and music

Embraces our embraces

Beneath us is the soundscape

And to escape was our home

 

Approaching me and to you

Was the decision that struck the tempo

In our oceans of skins

In a girl and boy

 

H

_happy_