The Pier


If you shall sail away tomorrow, dear
May I pass by the foaming white beach side
And lay my soul to rest beneath the pier

How can I live if I live in this fear?
Not enough times, i tried, you tried, we tried
And soon you’ll sail away tomorrow, dear

Is it worth living worlds away, from here?
Or worth living without your love, your bride?
If so, I’ll lay my soul below the pier

My heart like an anchor, it pulls you near
But distance binds me underneath the tide
How can you sail away today, my dear?

May I sink to the ocean floor, so clear
The waves stroking my feet with every stride
And soon burry my soul beneath the pier

My heart is soaked and salty as a tear
All of my bones have somehow pruned inside
And now you are sailing away, my dear
I lay my soul to sleep beneath the pier

Habits


biting down on chewing gum

can’t stop thinking about it

pick and twiddle at my thumb

can’t stop thinking about it

knuckles crack against the bricks

can’t stop thinking about it

count my scars, four, five, six

can’t stop thinking about it

digging out my fresh, red scabs

can’t stop thinking about it

time to take a few more dabs

can’t stop thinking about it

paranoid, ADHD

can’t stop thinking about it

scheduled to break at one, two, three

can’t stop thinking about it

smokey lungs and itchy throat

can’t stop thinking about it

my liver’s ready to explode

can’t stop thinking about it

ALWAYS ON MY MIND

NEVER STOP THINKING ABOUT IT

Crushes Suck.


I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel
And I’m pretty sure I’m in love with the wrong person.

The wrong person catches my eye in a crowded room.
The wrong person makes the flowers in my body bloom.
The wrong person makes me laugh way more than usual.
The wrong person makes my daydreams sound delusional.
The wrong person gives me powerful feelings I’ve never had.
The wrong person makes me show off my dance moves that are… my god, so bad.
The wrong person is the inspiration of my writing.
The wrong person is the reason everything is aligning.
The wrong person teaches me how to love every single day.
The wrong person makes me think “You’re the one, there’s no other way.”

Now replace “the wrong person” with the name of your crush – and then get over it!

If the wrong person can make you feel like that, imagine what the right person can make you feel…

Butterfly Bones


i had butterflies through my entire body

ready to rip my chest apart

and fly from my rib cage

my heart fluttered its wings

my body floated to the ceiling

and there was no chance of falling

for a weight had been lifted

making me light as a feather

and a cover had been pulled

making me bright as Sirius

A Bottle of Ignorance


This is different than the little green leaf

That I regularly smoke during the week

I hope you know what I’m talking about

But maybe your innocence has washed you out

For luckily, you’ve never experimented like this

With drugs that are so cruel, they give you bliss

This time, it’s not ignorance that fuels a result

It’s simply stimulants that put you at fault

I’m intoxicated as I write this right now

I can’t tell a lie, see the sweat on my brow

It brings out the best

It brings out the worst

It’s just a drunken poem

Go home and quench your thirst

Poem of the Week by Elise Bauman


Obviously, these were not my words and they were spoken a long while ago. Even though they are intended for her thoughts and feelings toward Inauguration day, Elise’s words are still relevant today in our daily lives. We truly are a nation of hypocrisy and we will never be able to move past our differences if we can’t see eye to eye. Luckily, we have taken a couple steps forward since the delivery of this poem but we still have kinks to work out. Maybe we as a society aren’t as broken as we used to be, but every day is always a new opportunity to better ourselves. Maybe you don’t even care about this poem or don’t find it relevant anymore, but its meaning goes beyond the political spectrum. I find this poem to be beautifully written (especially for a first-timer) and I slightly envy Elise for her passionate and flawless delivery. I was glad I could share this with you even though it’s far past its original publication. Hopefully, I could put this idea in the light again and make you think a little. Or maybe I just posted a beautifully spoken poem for you to enjoy. Either way, there you go! Now enjoy the rest of your day.

Poetry Pens


She was born
A few countries away from Rome,
Far from the Mile high state
She now calls her home.
With a young married couple
Traveling hours on a plane
She was adopted in the year 2000
And given a different name.
Coming to her new house
She had a love for climbing trees.
She enjoyed life’s little moments,
They came as they pleased.

With a loud family of six,
There was always time for fun-
Skiing, hiking, and camping-
With occasional burns from the sun.
She had two brothers, one sister,
But no pets to be found.
Her siblings loved to wrestle,
They would tackle her to the ground
Who doesn’t love a little family bonding?
They meant the world to her.
They meant the world to her,
Until something stopped corresponding.

More time passed
And her siblings moved out.
She would go to school
With so much self-doubt.
It was a time of struggle
But ended totally
When she discovered her talent
To naturally write poetry.

She began to think
Until her thoughts would rhyme
And that’s how it was created:
The words for every line.
The smallest things
Or the tune of an old song
Led her to grip the pencil
To write a poem that was too long.
But that’s the beauty that she later discovered:
This random talent got her through,
And even helped her recover.

She hasn’t stopped writing
She’s a poet undercover.
No one knew she could rhyme like this,
Not even her own mother!
Oh, wait… oops, I told a lie,
Some of that’s not true
Because her best friend read her poetry.
She was the only one who knew.
Well, now I must be a liar
I’ve committed a sin
But I can’t blow her cover!
People might turn her in.

Now you know
That poetry is my passion
It has been for nearly
Six years in action.
My life has been mellow
And I love all my friends,
I even love my crazy family
I love everything when I have my poetry pens.

Imperfect Facade


Do you want to know what’s eating me alive?
It’s all these thoughts I bottle up inside.
My mind continues to recite this unspoken soliloquy.
It plays in my head, non-stop, repeatedly.
These are some of the lines:

“I may be everything you wanted but I could never be everything you needed. Defeated is all I’ll ever be in my abandoned memory. To you, I applaud your hypocrisy, for it was much more deceptive than I remember. But what right have I got to state that claim when I suffer from memory loss and numbing pain. You put on this facade so often, I can’t even remember who you used to be. To me, you were imperfectly pure. But I can’t find that in you anymore.”

You stabbed me so hard,
I nearly fell through the floor.
But you held your hand out to catch me,
you confused me once more.
How much longer
do we have to live like this?
That’s all I want to know.