1. Secret Stash
Draft One
YESTERDAY
If life could turn back to yesterday,
The sun would be happy to rise in the morning.
I wouldn’t cry to say goodbye to the moon,
Because my dreams would play before me once again.
I’d evaporate like rain
And fall down on you once again,
To enjoy naps on the beach
And evenings on the porch.
I see your smile on the walls,
And feel my lonely finger haunted
By where a ring sat.
Only half the person I am continues.
As forever ended in my world,
It resumed through yours,
Without me.
Yesterday, I was whole.
2. Exercise #1: And what if I’m a taker?
Draft One
Emails line my screen,
Begging for responses.
They’re disappointed
As they’re “marked as unread,”
And put off for another day.
The cord of my twisted laptop charger
Overwhelms a once prosperous workspace.
It coils around cups of pencils,
Snakes under stacks of sticky notes,
Lies across heaps of paper,
And hides overflowing to-do lists.
An assignment due in twenty-four hours
Competes for attention with my phone.
The fight is rigged;
Homework surrenders in embarrassment
As notifications and messages distract every time.
The clock beckons to be noticed,
Desperate to keep me on schedule,
But it’s ignored.
I rush once it’s too late,
Forgetting my keys, phone, and books,
And it’s the clock that’s blamed for moving too fast.
I’m greeting with beams of warmth,
And a canopy of emerald along my path.
The chattering of a crowd
Puts on a show of laughter and ordinary life.
Smiles emerge to brighten my spirit,
And I pretend they do.
Inside, I lament the day
Despite the gifts it bears.
3. Film Poem
Draft One
It’s watching you,
but it’s unseen.
You know it’s there to get you because
Your mind tells you,
You’re not alone.
It’s day,
But down here,
It’s night.
The stillness echoes like an old scream.
Small drips crash against the concrete.
Rickety, rotting floorboards overhead trap you in.
Your arms shiver,
But the burning red furnace
Crackles,
And tells you
it’s not the wind breathing down your body.
Cobwebs and dust lurk behind the shadows,
But flood your nose as you fill your lungs.
Is it really there,
Behind you,
Watching you,
Or does it live in your head with all your other fears?
Your timid little feet find a moment of bravery,
Before the silence is broken,
And you once again feel it,
watching you,
Becoming restless,
And moving from its spot.
Its footsteps mimic you,
quickening and following your own.
Your pumping heart,
And round eyes
Are familiar.
You’ve been to this foreign mind before.
Your escape from it feels silly
As you remember that it lives anywhere but there.
It lives alongside your conscience,
Always
watching you.
4. Exercise #2: Drafty-Draft (artist’s book poem)
Final Draft (click here for all drafts)
3:00am
It’s only the singer, writer extraordinaire
That sits on the front porch
With your dog and your Earl Grey tea.
Your facade speaks confidently of
Love, your passion, and the world.
At 3:00am
When your bright blue eyes finally soften,
Your sheepish smile is uncovered,
And your giddy laugh mixes with mine,
I see the hidden you.
Your weary rambling turns into sweet music,
And you tease, but never say no
When I ask for “just one more song,”
Even after the encore.
You say you can’t tame your wild life,
But I long for you to settle down.
I hope that soon you find who you are
At 3:00am.
5. Living in Metaphor
Draft One
I tend the garden
Desperately waiting for you to blossom
And bare a gift for the care I give
Plucking your bothersome weeds and fluffing your soil
Shooing your pests and watering your body
Encouraging you to bloom
I worry for you
Beg the weather to be darling for you
So that you may someday offer your harvest to me
Like tending a garden that refuses to fruit
I sacrifice for shriveling love
And I watch it die upon a cemetery of many others withered away
Draft Two
I tend our garden
desperately waiting for you to blossom
and bare the love for me that I give to you
Plucking your bothersome weeds
shooing your pests and watering your body
encouraging you to bloom
I worry for you
beg the weather to be darling for you
so that you may someday offer your harvest to me
Like tending a garden that refuses to fruit
I sacrifice for shriveling love
and I watch it die upon a cemetery
of many others
withered away
Draft Three
Grow Alone
I tend our garden
desperately waiting for you to blossom
and bare the love for me that I give to you
Plucking your bothersome weeds
shooing your pests and watering your body
encouraging you to bloom
I worry for you
beg the weather to be darling for you
so that you may someday offer your harvest to me
Like tending a garden that refuses to fruit
I sacrifice for a shriveling love
and I watch it die upon a cemetery of many others
withered away
6. Through The Past, Darkly
Draft One
Thank you for asking how I am.
The people here changed and they forgot how to love.
You can see frowning faces in nothing but their peaking, tired eyes.
Their hate demolishes whatever is good.
We hold our breath to avoid each other
And in the process we’ve given up on kindness.
I don’t know the last time I met a stranger and wasn’t afraid.
The first week felt like a break from life
But now it feels like driving home from vacation and getting stuck in traffic.
My life has changed and there’s nobody around to see it but me.
I regret wishing away my busy days, meetings, and last-minute plans.
I hope where you are, you’re sharing your day with others
And they’re asking how you are too.
7. Free Poem
Draft One
It was like finding myself lost in the city,
Begging foreign faces to make up for the time you stole.
I hoped my final destination was just one more step ahead,
But buildings taller, grander, and much further away beckoned for me, taunting me.
His old promises blended with the murmur of other city goers.
Like the hum of tires rolling along the pavement,
His expired love became nothing but white noise,
Temporarily forgotten and burdening to remember.
A bird landed aside me on a crowded park bench
And I asked her what brought her there, why anyone comes here.
She answered by flying high to her lonely home in the lonely tree,
Surrounded by chaos, but content in her own lonely world.
Draft Two
It was like finding myself lost in the city,
Begging foreign faces to make up for the time he stole.
I hoped my final destination was just one more step ahead,
But buildings taller, grander, and much further away called for me, taunting me.
His old promises blended with the murmur of other city goers.
Like the hum of tires rolling along the pavement,
His expired love became nothing but white noise,
Temporarily forgotten and burdening to remember.
A bird landed aside me on the crowded city bench
And I asked her what brought her there, why anyone comes here.
She answered by flying high to her lonely home in the lonely tree,
Surrounded by chaos, but content in her own lonely world.
8. Free Poem #2
Draft One
That humble, crowded lake is home.
Where we feasted off of brittle paper plates,
Napped deeply on a rocky, uneven shore,
And had a concert of broken, but intimate notes.
The burning rays collided with the shivering breeze
Like how your arms insulated me in a soggy towel.
The dread of abandoning our spot grew as intimidating as
The mountains that stared down at our sand-invaded blanket.
I’m hopelessly looking back at the pictures,
Pretending that night never showed up that day,
That life ended in that single moment,
As still as the water that puddled at our dripping feet.
9. Acrostic
Click here to see the progression of this piece
Draft One
That girl is looking for something or someone,
Hiding from the soul that’s buried beneath her poor choices,
And I do not know who she is,
Though her eyes reflect my pain as if looking into a mirror.
Girl, what are you doing?
Ignoring the flashing danger signs,
Risking what I spent four years to accomplish,
Like tearing down delicate, preserved wallpaper.
Is she getting her revenge, destroying my city,
So that she can rebuild it from bottom to top?
Maybe she needs to be saved.
Even she may prefer that.
Draft Two
that girl is looking for something or someone,
hiding from the soul that’s buried beneath her poor choices,
and I do not know who she is,
though her eyes reflect my pain as if looking into a mirror.
girl, what are you doing?
ignoring all the red flags,
risking what I spent four years to accomplish,
like tearing down delicate, preserved wallpaper.
is she getting revenge, destroying my city,
so that she can rebuild from its ashes?
maybe she needs to be saved.
even she may prefer that.
Draft Three
that girl is…
that girl is looking for something new,
hiding from a soul that’s buried beneath poor choices,
and I do not know who she is,
though her eyes reflect my pain as if looking into a mirror.
girl, what are you doing?
ignoring all the red flags,
risking what I worked four years to accomplish,
like tearing down delicate, preserved wallpaper.
is she getting revenge, destroying my city,
so that she can rebuild from its ashes?
maybe she needs to be saved.
even she may prefer that.
10. Anniversary Poem
Click here to see the artist’s book
Draft One
She was as hot as the flames of
The baking sand and whooshing Malibu waves
And the beachgoers sauntering like swans swarmed her
Cornered her until she was blinded from her escape
She believed it was only a vacation
And she swam away promising she’d never return
But like the seagulls who fly out to sea
The wind eventually calls them back
Many years later and from miles away
She too is beckoned
And now she sits in the sun washed up on shore
Rotting among the seaweed and foam
Draft Two
female, 17, washed ashore
She was flaming hot
like the baking sand and whooshing Malibu waves
And the beachgoers sauntering like swans swarmed her
cornered her until she was blinded from an escape
She believed it was only a vacation
and she swam away promising she’d never return
But like the seagulls who fly out to sea
the wind eventually calls them back
Many years later and from miles away
she too is beckoned
And now she sits in the sand washed up on shore
rotting among the seaweed and foam
11. Dream Poem
Draft One
last night at the rose garden
the wind swirled until her hair
wrapped around them both
like a hurricane ravaging the land
they met in the gazebo as they had planned
and when the world caved in they advanced
to a paradise where they wouldn’t have to split
wouldn’t have to upkeep a failed system
wouldn’t have to wonder if god were real
maybe that’s what she wished for all along
was for him to be right
and for the world to crash so he could save her
but it wasn’t true
she knew that much when her head rose from the pillow
in an empty bed without him
12. Free Poem #3
Draft One
hot night air stuck between us
as we huddled under the blanket
together for twenty more quick minutes
too soon it was coffee filling the air
and gloomy drops of rain echoing from outside the window
in the dimmed light of morning
your steps pounded about the apartment
and i trailed behind you
watching as you asked if i was ready
you gathered me in your arms and lips
but it left me as cold as our abandoned spot in bed
when your day begun and our night had ended
Free Poem #4
Draft One
Oh little home up on the fourth floor
With your squeaky door that I have to jiggle shut
The way you echo when bare feet hit the floor
And go quiet as the train whistle sounds from Main Street
Head lights from below cast shadows on the wall
Your clutter drowns me in sleep
Swallowing me whole into still water
Where the view to the outside is blurry
And I can only sink deeper into the warm darkness
Here there are new creatures new plants and a new life
Floating lifeless with the liquid
I don’t panic as my body struggles to breathe
Don’t even notice
Don’t even want to escape
I’m pulled from the depths to a morning chill
Where it’s suddenly turned misty and bright
But I’m still crowded by the love of this little home
Draft Two
Oh little home up on the fourth floor
With your squeaky door that I have to jiggle shut
The way you echo when bare feet hit the kitchen tile
And go quiet as the train whistle sounds from Main Street
Head lights from below cast shadows on the wall
As I’m wrap me into warm bedsheets
Your clutter soon drowns me in sleep
Swallowing me whole into still water
Where the view to the outside is blurry
And I can only sink deeper into the darkness
Floating lifeless with the liquid
I don’t panic when I struggle to breathe
Don’t even notice
Don’t even want to escape
I’m eventually pulled from the depths to a morning chill
Where it’s suddenly turned misty and bright
But I’m still embraced by this little home
Draft Three
Stay The Night
Oh little home up on the fourth floor,
with your squeaky door that I have to jiggle shut,
the way you echo when bare feet hit the kitchen tile,
and go quiet as the train whistle sounds from Main Street.
Headlights from below cast shadows on the wall
as midnight embraces us,
making me stay, as he wraps me in warm bedsheets.
Your clutter drowns me in sleep,
swallowing me whole into still water,
where the view to the outside is blurry
and I can only sink deeper into the darkness.
Floating lifeless with the liquid,
I don’t panic when I struggle to breathe,
don’t even notice,
don’t even wish to awaken
from the depths of this little home.
