Through A Window of Indecision

Written 4/15/2010 as a revision of a previous poem. Look, I can do postmodern poetry! Short line free verse.

Through A Window of Indecision

you see
unexpectedly
pass by without
hitch in step
presumably awkward
exchanges avoid
a void
unintentional
eye contact

look away then
back make sure
you face a face you
recognize
the one you
said those
words to
but someone else
does it now

breath caught
in chest
heart beats
irregular, you stop
passing
halting

stop.

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Streamers

It's been so long since I've been home. I've been gone..I've been gone for way too long..

Streamers
by sofiadventure

Today I have all the blinds angled open
In the hope
That the wonder outside
Will shine its light
Into the cracks of my heart
That just can't close today

I guess that my dreams
Broke all the stitches
As it swelled to this mound in my chest
Full of hope
And it's so hard to convince myself to keep eating
When my insides are facing the wide open seams
Of this muscle

Like the dishes in the kitchen
Fill my sink with the stink
Of being left to wait too long
And I'm listening hard to know I'm still breathing
Through the cracks in my heart
That drape my lungs like the streamers
Of my fourth grade birthday party
Where I said I wouldn't play
Because I knew that I would lose
Because my heart was hanging heavy and loose
The words which set the pace for every game
I haven't played since that day
I have been trying to tell myself
It's not too late
To learn that I don't want to race
Because I can't bear the tears
In my heart strings
That come
From leaving somebody behind

And I remember when I was 5 years old
Standing on a chair to reach the kitchen stove
And burning the skin of my elbow
As I tried to fry
Breakfast for my mother
While she lay sick in bed with
The voices in her head
Telling her she wasn't enough

And I remember filling that cup
With cordial straight from the bottle
Because I didn't know that we could be too sweet
unless we watered down what we gave

And I didn't know that the foundation of my faith
Was based
On my mother watching Jesus
Helping her to dry the dishes
And that when I measured the weight of that diagnosis
My prayers would turn to wishes
Floating like dried up dandelions
Away from me

And I was eight years old when I realized
that maybe my friends didn't fear
the same look
in their mothers eyes
when they went behind themselves and shined
with the reflection of the tears
of fear in my eyes
because I knew that she could hear
all of her own voices
But not mine.

The letter challenge

Try some of these out, they may result in some interesting writings. Post some for your friends to see if you dare. I challenge everyone to try this with at least one subject, perhaps your friends will appreciate your openness and getting to know you better!

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself.

Ground Zero

Yes, this is a one-lined poem. Let me know how it works for you, as the reader. I'm trying my hand at different styles of poetry these days.

Ground Zero

all that's left are embers..

Steps to Hiroshima

Steps to Hiroshima

The man's maniacal cackle
echoes through the streets,
an imprint of an old woman
left on the bank step from the blast.

The man shuffles past
gasmask in hand, useless
a prop of comfort
for nothing will save him
from the radiation-

it will sink deep into his bones.

(If memory serves me correctly I wrote this on 4/1/10)

..and there was no wall

A collaborative poem written by myself and Eric Rudko on 4/26/10.

...and there was no wall

"It's the kind of happiness that can only come in a vial,”

she said, her eyes dulled over by years of wear,

black mascara on her hand where she tried to erase

the tears, hand shaking a jack and coke with ice clink on glass

he had never noticed the paint on the wall,

before that moment, nor how the bags she wore chronicled a month

of disgust and neglect, decrepitude. Stagnation.

The walls became unfamiliar over time, the curtains tattered,

"Likewise", he muttered to none but he,

and fixated on the ragged tatters, crimson against daylight

that passed as she sat, staring outside through the holes

that was the only daylight she had seen for a month.

Sweat hung about her glass, following the ice as it fell

with each sip, the room heavy with ash and almond

colored wallpaper. The ripples swimming, undulating.

She would reach out her hand but it met with no solid surface.

The floor was cool, but inviting, her soft cheek
against dust, her warmth creeping away like a thief, and all he could do was watch.