Free verse poem: Belongings

Free verse poem: Belongings

This is a free verse poem about attachment and detachment – defeat on behalf of simplicity’s sake.

I didn’t expect myself to still feel like this
And my mother laughs because it’s only been a few days
But I feel like it’s dragging on
It’s dragging on
And we didn’t even come to the conclusion of what would become our song
So what am I here to do
Sitting in the corner of the modern, moss-green, vibrantly street-lit café,
A damsel in despondency,
A variation of your favourite four-course strings
A broken-down parlor path with a shiny diamond entryway and glass slippers lining the blizzard-sinking ships,
That match my cruelty
My taste for rabid tongue
The whispers I wouldn’t let you utter
And the hesitation you’d be lucky to never have suffered

Portrait of Princess Tatyana Yusupova (1850) by Franz Xaver Winterhalter, oil on canvas

A chance for melancholia to clash with the force of nature
To detract from a foreign film
A lost, aching still
An avalanche of surprise
Beguiled by sheer imagination and phosphorescent icing

That smothers a kingdom like the holiest ghost
Always bittersweet to the liking
Made for sharp, pristine vengeance

Sans Titre (Untitled) 115 by Eliane L. Guerin, oil on canvas

In my own reserved portrait of solitude
Gazing vibrantly at the majestic cars that drive by
The classics, the tragic
The ancient and recumbent
Reoccurring in stunning ways I could not even think to properly illuminate in due time
Typing
Silently
Wishing you were next to me
Smiling
The way you do
The way you do
So magnificent
Eyes glimmering in concave and crimson, blue
God, I was this close to being obsessed with you

I feel like
A teenager
An angry one
A bitter fool
Mad at myself because I brushed away the
The fleeting thoughts of nah, he won’t like me if I say that
Nah, he won’t like me if I wear that
Nah

The Bath (1874) by Alfred Emile Leopold Stevens, oil on canvas

I’m moving in circles because I forgot how to dance
I forgot how to feel alive
I trip over my own words
Everything is in disarray
I thought you were going
I thought you were going
I thought you were going to make it work
I thought you were
I thought you were
I thought you were going to make it work with me
I thought you were
I so thought you would have
Made it work with me
And that would be
Meaningful
Hopeful
Spontaneously planned
Crimson and clover all over
Soft rubber bands

Now you’ve got me in a pit and you
Hung up on me
I threw my cellular device on the street
I don’t want to talk to anybody
Anybody at all
Anybody at all
Anybody at all
Anybody at all

I’m not writing another poem about a boy that doesn’t have the strength to come
Tell me it’s not working
Stand there in your clandestine flesh
Stand there, giving me a real piece of yourself
Look at me with dandelions in my hair

Mending the Gown (early 20th century) by Adolphe Borie (1877-1934), oil on canvas, figurative artwork

Don’t say I’m too charming for you
Tell me I’m too alarming for you
Tell me I scare the living daylights out of you

And you’ve got other girls calling you
Answer the phone in front of me
Take the flowers out of my hair
Push me down on the tar-stained sidewalk
Bully me like you do on your bad days
Get your way

That’s how I want you to leave me

Not like
Not like
Not like
Not like
Not like
Not like
Not like
Not like

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is Open-Air-Interior-barcelona-1892-Ramon-Casas-i-Carbo.jpg
Open Air Interior Barcelona (1892) by Ramon Casos i Carbo, oil on canvas

Worn desperation
Mixing in fevers of separation

But I thought I
Belonged

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Thank you for your support – currently working on the cocktail party poetry collection.

xoxo

Love poem: Don’t leave (me be)

Love poem: Don’t leave (me be)

I’m unstable
And I can’t tell you I’m unstable
Because I know you’ll leave
I know you’ll leave

I Think I’m Ready Now (The Mirror; the Pink Dress) (1883) by William Merritt Chase, oil on canvas

I look at my telephone; I put it down
I’m running around
I try to picture us together, in the rose gardens and wildflowers
But I’m holding on to a secret that’s like a back brace you don’t see me carrying
I act in idiosyncratic ways
And when I lose sight of your gaze,
I go in transient circles, wondering if I’ve lost you entirely
Come, lie in bed with me
Breathe beside me
Breathe out your exasperated fumes, and I’ll intake your carbon dioxide
All I can get
To move on to the next page
To avoid being stagnant
But it’s out of habit
That I crawl under the covers and I shut my eyes
Praying, only praying, that sleep will come bless me
Like it does, you, when you’re tired of fighting

The chaos that is driving me to combust
To erupt in fragrant comatose remedies only made for
Heavenly maidens under God’s brightly lit eyes
I’m not that type of person
I’m the one that lives with the curse in
-side me like a poison
That’s stumbling and rocking and weaving in between the Heavens to serve me a splendor I
Never deserved

A New York Blizzard (1890), By Frederick Childe Hassam

But I would
I should
Get up in time
Take the frostbite right off me
And take off my hospital gown
Surrendering to the amplified surround sound
The blankets we put over your walls to keep the vocal tone pitch in the points that mesmerize us the most
Haunt us until we’re comatose
In bed with the flu
Poor, sick thing
She’ll be fine by the morning

She’ll be fine
She’ll be fine
She’ll be fine
In time

I awaken in a wretched state; I’m ghastly and ill and,
I hesitate
To reach out
I know how these things go
I know I’m alone
I know my despondency is tragic, in a way that shakes you
Like you don’t want to be shaken
Nobody wants that in place of a lullaby
And I can be that-
That soothing, transient, hypnotic daze
But I’m succumbing to old premonitions
I’m losing the battle
And I can’t let you see my struggle

Lady Constance Leveson-Gower, later Duchess of Westminister (1850) by Franz Xaver Winterhalter (Museum: Royal Collection)

It’s not pretty
It’s not on purpose
But it’s oh so purposeful
I have to move on to move on to the next page
The next page where we’ve arrived at Saturn and your eyes have a glaze like a beautiful vegan donut in a ceramic box
A chamber where I don’t make a noise
Not because I don’t know how to
Because I know not to
I just know not to

I’m losing this battle
Nobody’s on the line
And I know, I know, that in time I’ll be fine
But how I wish
Can only wish
That you were here to tell me

The twenty-seven different beautiful things you see in me
And how that projection spontaneously came to be
That’s what truly most interests me

Interior of a Baroque Church (circa 1660) by Emanuel de Witte, oil on canvas

But I won’t ask
Shove the covers and refuse to speak to my mother
I go through everything alone; it’s the way this life paves
One day I’ll be at the Heavenly gates asking for forgiveness

And I don’t think that’ll be quite in store
Or offered
To someone like me

Will you still love me?

I’m too scared to look

Free verse poem: Replace the terror in me

Free verse poem: Replace the terror in me

A free verse poem interpolating love and boredom, those mutually excluded. I write about my surroundings and how I respond to them; I write about you and how I’m feeling enamoured, but I won’t make this a love poem.
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I’ll slip like a satin glove
One abstraction over another, turn the pages, can’t stop reading textbooks on topics I haven’t reached yet in my academia
London print and soft pastels to remind me softness still exists
In little teacups filled with daredevil laughter

How do I
Distract from the blue light filter
I’ve got this covenant, this modern-day orchestration
A plate of cinnamon toast for two
With soy whipped cream and untouched, fresh blueberries
A breakfast in the comfort of our living room
With the television on,
Vintage advertisements
Try it for yourself, buy it, now!
We put our heads in our hands, switching places
Serenade me, serenade me
Run away with me

Impressed by my collection of 14.2 carat diamonds
I knew it wasn’t right, but I find it hard to stop myself from trying
When you hear me tell my truth, you think I’m lying
A country house’s ceiling covered in coral-buff-pink that doesn’t compete with the furniture and artwork in the room
I don’t believe I’ve lived this life before
I say silent goodbyes to the waves when I swim towards the shore
Never settling in life because there’s always something more

But I’m patient, I can wait
I know how to play this waiting game
But I’m patient, I don’t hesitate to hesitate
I know how to play this waiting game

You spend your life attached to the poison
You see the same things in every new person
But I – I find waves to weave my carefully knit spiderweb
The remnants of my being
(but I swore I could be tranquil)
I engulfed you like a macrophage
I brought you to the Heavens
They asked me for all my pennies and I said all I could offer were dimes
In an aster black & dune-white coin purse
With wild daisies in watercolour
Where I keep a ticket stub from our day at the ballet
Our day in the sweet vermouth from the South
Your shots of whiskey – endless, hopeless- almost!

But I found you out by the car, near the diner with the half-lit sun-kissed sign
That illuminates the grey tones of the weakened sky
I’ve yet to find a relation that feels like spiral twine
In due time
My dear one
It always takes time

Crumpets in bed, you’re so sweet; why are you doing these things for me
The back of your Carrera that you lean on when I find you
Down, downtrodden
In a medieval, Victorian garden
I found roses that smelled like the ones you once bought for me
I wrote secrets down on receipts for other people to find
And they’ll have no idea what I’m talking about
What I’m writing about
They always have no idea what I’m composing about
What I’m going on about
Often too timid to say what I’m handling out loud
(In the wild Texan landscape, I screamed without making a sound)

But you, cast like the sun’s sharp, contrasted rays upon the deep blue, dark steel water body that is
Where I swim against the current because it’s the closest I manage to get to what others feel from amphetamines
A satin blanket with a cushion for our picnic by the bayside

You, there, me – laughing when I look at you
Think I know why you do the things you do
But nobody is ever sure of anything, how can they be?
I’m the Chicago princess, the flat-rate bourgeoisie
Things that make most sense to you don’t mollify me
In the orbit of the moon
I am your apogee

How is your gaze so familiar when it’s just out of sight?
Inoperative like a 1990s old engine Civic brake light
But I’ll be the warm air watching your gunfight
With the resilience and nepotism of stunning graphite
Like the perfect backdrop
Like an ivory white snowstorm while indoors
I’m what the mosquitos won’t ever bite

I think it’s sweet, how people give you their time
In a palace where everybody always feels they’re running out of such a concept,
The ballgame isn’t enough
(Oh, you think you’re so tough?)
Pour me iced green tea
Show me you can be there for me
Tell me I’ve been disillusioned
Replace the terror in me

Satin-pink signature bowtie on the back of my tulle dress, and flower petals arranged to counter my dismay
I am a lovable girl
Who loves in the most appropriate way

The kind of girl that sends you straight to fame
Ambition my only pursuit, I write you love letters on the train

I am bored with how it hasn’t yet rained
In days
In days
In days
In days
In days
In days
In days
In days

Free verse love poem: Florals on film (white dove)

Free verse love poem: Florals on film (white dove)

Short but sweet
I’m a plate of coconut-sugared honeydew
In the azure-blue wave of the evening sky,
I make my way to you
With a glistening undertone to my green eyes,
That you swear are hazel
Because you don’t look for long enough

Receptive, and kind
Is this a love letter to myself?
I want what I have to give; how can I be more transparent
Always feel like I’m tearing –
Apart music venues, but all I do is hang concert posters
Artists that I work with
They trust me with their craft
Something makes me think I should be proud of that
But I’m a mellow girl, tend to be more relaxed
(Because when it’s about me, I get frostbite)
Amputated in broad daylight

When you came over and laid on my satin blush-pink bedspread and stared at my lilac & steel grey walls,
I almost became afraid
That you’d get the wrong idea about all the wedding dress advertisements
They’re just for decoration!
(Can’t a girl feel elegant in her own residence?)
I’m not looking for tulle, when I try to breach the lull
Apprehensive about if you read what’s on my whiteboard
Like I’m the kind of person who needs inspiration external to self
But it’s all me
It all comes from me
I am the doyenne of my own prosperity
I need my very words for my sanity
And you – laying there – you probably didn’t notice
That I like white flowers too

More than my love for the moon
More than vegan blueberry pancakes with homemade butter
Horse-drawn carriages always made me sad
But a cowboy’s relation with his horse is what I admire
Absence of solicitude makes me so tired
I refused admiration for so many years
But oh, what it would be – to be softly admired!
Take away the high opinions
Give me real touch
To fawn on, to adulate
To feel you’re enough

Vindication has two different definitions, and they’re not at all alike
One is to remove someone from suspicion or blame
The other is to prove yourself right
That’s not how I want to spend the evening tonight
Even a white Mourning dove comes bearing a beak
The most indifferent amongst us would cite that as weak

But I am very familiar with my satin blush-pink bedspread
And after a long day when I rest my tired head

I think of white florals and play Baby Breath & Calla Lily film reels in my mind

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Free verse poem: This is my castle (they built it for the queen)

Free verse poem: This is my castle (they built it for the queen)

All I want is some wine
To know that you’ve tried
But I don’t get what I want, but in case you forgot,
This is my castle; they built it for the queen
I’ve gone by my nickname since I was nineteen
I picked the cherry stems just fine
Wrapped them around you in due, hazel time
Not unsettled by rage, only burnt by hot sunshine
There is a time and a place
For letting me go tonight
I can only live in shades of blue for so long

You’ll call when you’re drinking
But the rosemary and fever dream has me thinking
That in this warm abyss, I’m finally putting myself first
I’m the most decadent of late-night desserts
(I don’t care if I get hurt)
Moving like the Chicago Transit Authority that picks me up every fifteen minutes,
To sit and watch the downtown splendor, the people having conversations
The luxurious skyscrapers with their gleaming reflections on the river
My god, if you could see it
My god, if only you could see it
Reels of the same film run through my mind

I look at the lilac flowers
That I picked out for myself
You handed your credit card to the cashier and made my head hurt
You didn’t want to be there
You pinched my weakest nerves
But they fired back, like dropped bombs on a 1990s Cadillac
I was confused when I looked in the mirror, and I wasn’t blushing
Why, as a young girl, did I feel nothing?

I moved, so briskly
I held them, so close
I always hold flowers so deathly close to me
Can’t help having something in my life I don’t intend to have and to hold, as the evening unfolds
I’m mesmerized by the dusky, disorderly, crimson, secluded, and mechanical sky
I can’t help having something in my life without keeping it close-by
I’m a porcelain and ivory, soft-hearted girl
All you had to do was try
All you had to do was try

Ice cream summer popsicle dreams
Muscle relaxant mixed with white amphetamines
To handle the chaos that you collided with mine
I think there’s a right place, and a right time
But if you call late at night, know I’ve had some red wine
So the pauses are longer
When you hold your breath,
No longer allowed to lay your head on my chest
Coming to terms with what I’m led to believe
You’ve been lying to me
I saw it; I grabbed it; I wreaked some fucking havoc
Internally, always
Internally
No longer lying awake as you, beside me, breathe

An exemplary paradise for your magical thinking
She’s the one, she’s the only one
Who cared to ask about
Things you couldn’t say out loud
To anyone, anyone
She’s the one, she’s the only one
She’ll be the one, she’ll be the only one
To tell you the truth
To show you who you are
She’s the only one
She’ll be the only one

I’ve moved in a geometric possession to the interwoven mention,
Of “boyfriend,” and “happy”
And “I don’t want to,”
A passing thought: was I gentle enough
As if in my lifetime, I’ve ever been rough
Like a foreign identity
I’ve latched onto lately
To remove your hesitation with no A+ on my exam
I rest my heavy head in my pale hands
I pull you back and forth like a rubber band
I’m swimming and I don’t want to come up to breathe

But I have to
I have to

Like fine black metal branches, delicate though not brittle,
The uncertainty
Is damaging
It feels
Like tragedy
Knocking on hell’s door asking if I’m ready for some more
Are you ready for some more?
The peaches were more vibrant than I could have dreamt them up to be
But they’re only on a painting that was completed in the 17th century
Find myself alone in this maze of lost equilibrium
There’s an error in your calculations
The past has nothing to do with the girl standing before you
It’s taken me 26 years to learn the blind cannot be cured by me
Even though it’s my specialty
Even though it was real to me,
Even though I

Count blueberries and pick off their tiny stems
On a blanket, it rains; I am hopeful again
For a time when I’m sitting in a boy’s passenger seat, and he looks at me
And he’ll feel so free
The thought of belonging to me
They have led astray me, but don’t go by a day
That I don’t count the ways

I grow softer, and softer
As I learn man’s ways,

I grow softer and softer
I don’t lose myself in the haze
If you knew what I know,
My god, you’d be amazed

Take that to the grave
My god, you’d be amazed

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