Tag: memoir poetry

Poem: A Most Fitting Cliche

The final cut: Like fresh shaven legs Or the snip-snip of a “new do” Or a new dye job Or trashing an entire wardrobe Like wanting everything to be different Wanting nothing to recognize And no memories to ache Or photos to caress No name badge to don And no ducking behind walls No working…

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Poem: I hate this poem 

I was once a little girl Spinning in circles, eyes cast down Watching my dress bloom around me from my waist, detaching at the knees reaching out, around and around until the galaxies kept in my brain Exploded, and I fell to the ground in ecstasy, while the earth reminded me that She is indeed…

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Poem: Love, 

Love, the word. Love, the verb. Love, the lie. Love, the grave I lay me down to rest. Love, the poem I can’t get out of my head. Love, the feeling ripped out my chest. Love, the loneliness strangling me at night. Love, the wolf burrowed under my bed. Love, the heaving, gasping chest. Love,…

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Poem: Untitled

I couldn’t save you yesterday. I could not fix your wounded soul. I was not your willing savior, Or the answer to your prayers. My to-do list is daunting And the laundry’s piled up. I have a quiz on Tuesday for a class I haven’t managed to attend. My cello’s corroding in the corner And…

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Poem: The Inadequecy of Words

How do you explain something that does not exist anywhere but your head? How do you form words for feelings impossible? How do you talk about the cracks in your brain caused by no weapons? 13 new countries, 16 new homes, 60 interviews, 500 new friends, 459 good-byes, and 1 lie: “Yes, I’ll come back”–because…

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Poem: Brave

I found her again. The fearless traveler and the independent woman. The unafraid to explore the unknown, unafraid of being lost, and unafraid of being alone woman. The flirt and the extrovert—the confident and ready for anything woman. The yes woman and the go-getter. The sitting in a café enjoying every last drop of her…

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Poem: Infinite Soul

It was a hot summer day in a small room in my even smaller town when I first understood that I did not belong to myself, that my body was not my own, and that I was inherently limited. Fifteen of us middle schoolers and our group leader sat in a circle, fidgeting in white…

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Poem(ish): Volatile

 I walk out of my favorite coffee shop and before my eyes walks this beautiful woman–swollen at the belly. I look to the man beside her, and your face rips through the barriers of my mind, emptying out the memories I’d purposefully hid away. And suddenly, the pain and heartbreak of letting you go comes back…

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