marking paint demarcating two-way traffic
a graduation gown
one thing they have in common is their color
and the girl who is trying to make sense of it all.
Can we ever reach back into time when we were five months old,
only beginning to see past the shades of light and dark?
No one is ever really ready for change,
but still, it comes knocking uninvited.
Now is not the time to fear,
embrace your expanding universe and all the ensuing wonder we will discover.
Yellow screams danger, slow down,
yet it also whispers sunrises and new beginnings.
Hey guys, it’s been a while since I have posted poetry and I apologize. I am still writing poetry in my journal, but I have been too busy to post it online. This poem, along with several others I am planning to share, I wrote as a writing exercise I created for myself through Instagram. On my stories, I ask people to message me ideas for poems then I challenge myself to write them down and share. It’s not easy. As a perfectionist you want your poetry to be perfect, but if I want to improve I have to learn how to write through writer’s block. As the title says, one of my friends suggested to me to write about nothing. Here it is.
As I walk to the stop light,
I see a man walk off the metro
and I’m half praying he does something outrageous
like grope me,
so I could channel this rage into something physical
my fist meeting flesh,
adrenaline rushing through me,
fight or flight,
a reason to live.
He glances over, looks away,
walks faster ahead of me out of sight.
I am left caught in between the feeling of everything,
and the desire for nothing at all.
The anticipation of entering the pool is always the worst.
Jumping into the abyss of fridged water
I feel its sting slapping my skin,
sounds of bubbles rushing past my ears before my feet
settle feather-like to the bottom of the pool.
Like the astronaut I am weightless,
blind, and deaf to the entire world;
here is my silent sanctuary
where I can’t see their faces, their fervent glances, or judging stares.
It’s just me striking the water, pushing and pulling to propel myself forward.
As I rise to the surface at the end of a set,
I relax against the lane line bobbing gently up and down
I sing to myself, “It started out as feeling”.
I’ve been stuck in a writing rut. So I edited this poem as practice instead of practicing for my jury examination in a week on the clarinet. Needless to say, I am screwed. Oh well. Enjoy!
You didn’t notice it before, but the tides flow so swiftly.
Almost 18 years have gone by without fanfare,
So take the time to be grateful for the small things.
Take out your headphones, put away all the distractions.
Just be. Look at the tide swirling around you
And as you stand there thinking about then, this, and there,
You can hear it moving ever so faintly.
The raindrops pattering the sidewalk,
A gasp of surprise when the Sunday school kids have grown,
The cars whooshing by, carrying people and their worries away.
They say we are fish out of water but look at you.
Swimming with fins, scales, gills, and all,
Even if it was only for a moment.
3500 miles per hour
spinning out beyond the known limits of our galaxy
is a recording
of the electrical impulses of a mind and body in love
and while I’m listening to this podcast
I can’t help but make a metaphor out of this
this is how you stole my heart
every time I look at you
you send my heart
shooting off into the dangerous, beautiful cosmos
stealing all of the breath out of my lungs
there is no oxygen in this perfect vacuum
nothing but gas and dust particles
and distant lights from suns that shone 13 eons ago
maybe nothing will become of this golden record
it will be lost in the dark expanse of time and space
someone or something
will decipher the static of brainwaves
the sound of flowing air whooshing in and out of lungs
the thudding of a yearning heart
Perhaps they may listen
And have a tiny glimpse into the passion that defines mankind
-inspired by Radiolab