11/15/2023 I think. Leaving class 6:30
A Night before thanksgiving break.
Sky ripples
Bird nests
Mulch breathing in and out of my chest
Stone walks
Still calls
satin sheets cover the sky in a pink berry hue
The great hall shadows in light
One side is jaded
The other is bright
Suns going down rather early tonight
Hungry and cold
Excited for old
Fairytales told
At an unstable
Table
Of family gold
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11/17/2023 11;07pm -airport Dunkin
White chocolate mocha
Boy in the coffee line
With the striking blue eyes who tried to buy me my coffee.
Dancing glances
Of center stances dizzying
Stage with just you and I.
Boy in the coffee line
With a gold peircing on his ear
A sweet smitten face and a nice demeanor
They didn't tell me when I came up to the front
That you tried to pay for my coffee but I'm calling out their bluff.
You asked loud and clear with a little bit of fear to pay for the girl two people back.
The one with the ankle brace too distant to focus face and glancing away at the event her eye contact lead to a fleeting disgrace.
I think we'll meet again.
You seemed so familiar.
Different gates and different places
Is this memory a distraction
Traveling and tracking packages
Is this true or is it attraction
Infatuations a messy feeling
emotions run on high in a minute your reallling
along
and carrying your backpack off
into the night
If you had stayed, I would've introduced myself. What if's and different days.
The universe works in mysterious ways.
So I'll trust it with all my might.
Coffee boy
In line
With the piercing blue eyes
I hope you have a good flight.
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11/17/2023 11:30
Calluses
Is there a right to poetry to put it on a page?
Is there a right to characters to craft them like a mage
Stirring up a secret soul
Cauldron full of emotions on loop
Of myself
Of others
Observations too.
Is it my purpose to bring them into existence is it harmful to deny their lives?
When so many characters live inside my mind
Writing is a peculiar thing
Particular in crafting but technical in post fling
Strong of consciousness consolidated thought
Mixed together with magic can create something from not.
The power of creation,
Left in my caliced hands
Ripped apart from my own strife and my own life's demands
Typing in madness in fury in haste
Will they disappear from this world if the fail to be on a page.
If I bring them to life will they live well, my burdened hands are cast under their spell. Must give to them what they demand what they deserve is not my command I write what they want. I write what I know. They show me experiences and through them I grow. With needle and thread I've a long way to go. With wishes to grant and futures to sew.
Do my characters want to take up space or want to disappear.
When bringing them into the world I can't help but be worried with fear.
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YOU ARE READING
Sophomore soliloquies
PoetryIf you've ever felt burdened by being a sophomore in college your not alone. I'm writing these and posting them as I go along. So we can feel less alone together, in a complicated world, within a song. Please feel free to comment, critique, or ask...
