Poems
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The dragon’s breath was thick and cold, Echoing in the crags of its rocky lair With the sound of cowbells ringing somewhere far below. And a path so narrow and steep, It would be missed if not for the warning signs marking its way. Maybe it was a good thing we couldn’t see beyond the
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I am not a poet. Does that mean I shouldn’t write? Are my words meaningless because they aren’t high art? I am not a philosopher. Does that mean I shouldn’t think? Are my thoughts meaningless if they aren’t soliloquy? I am not an academic. Does that mean I shouldn’t learn? Is my education meaningless because
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I’ve become a political poet. If the last few months have been good for anything, it’s inspiration. I’ve been spitting out poems about current events on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. While most of those rough drafts don’t see the light of day, I deemed several decent enough to share on TikTok and this blog.
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Wake up in the morning, Pour a cup of coffee, Sip it while you calculate The price of your eggs. Return to office mandate, An 8-to-5 in corporate, Got to grin and bear it, You’ve got bills to pay. Work hard, show some muscle. Pick up a side-hustle. No rest for the wicked. No use
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No savior No messiah No king of mine. No praising No praying No bowing to thine. I cannot, I should not, I will not resign My humanity for his glory. Your god-king is not my lord.
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I miss the ocean Though I fear the unknown deep, And I dislike the sand in my shoes And the salt on my chapped skin. Still, I miss the ocean The sea-scented breeze in my hair, The sound of rolling waves in my ears, And the tide lapping at my ankles. I miss the ocean.
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I wish life was as soft as a bedtime story-Gentle tales about gentle lives. I wish the world was as simple as a fairytale,With clear distinctions between wrong and right. I wish that reality was as gentle as a lullabye,With the soothing notes soft as starlight. I wish you an eternity of peaceful dreamsThe sweet
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I knew we didn’t have money, But I didn’t know we were poor- Until I ran out of fingers to count The number of pieces I returned. When we were playing a game, To check our privileged status And my hands were full of Empty air. A ledger of my societal debt.
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I believe that Persephone ate the apple, And Eve ate the pomegranate seeds. The cost of knowledge and power, Was the taste of red fruit on a woman’s lips. The Queen of Death and the Mother of Life: The renewal of Spring followed by the Fall- One in the same, their choices were made, and
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He’s nothing like you Excerpt for the way he stands. The same height and casual stance- Wrapped in black jeans. He’s nothing like you Except for the way he talks. A shouted voice full of mirth When excited in conversation. He’s nothing like you Except for that face he makes. Dark eyebrows raised, wide mouth
Bringing Mae Flowers 