Showing posts with label Poetry Friday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry Friday. Show all posts

Sunday, October 24, 2010

The story of That Girl



If I ever met…
Such a serene little girl.
With blond curls and blue eyes,
Her soft hands lingered in her mothers.
Her smooth pink cheeks
Holding that perfect smile.
If she ever had an inkling
That this Sunday,
Was the Sunday that her most beloved family member
Would be lost.
Her mother-- looks pretty,
With her long blond curls and blue eyes, always smelt sweet.
The white dress draped her back as she crossed the road,
She was audacious.
Her mother was the only ne that the little girl was close to.

The little girl cried over
Her mothers now pale skin.
Dripping a profuse amount
Of perfect tears of love
Over her mothers cracked lips and stretched cheek bones.
Crying the waves of the pacific,
Now she had no one to share laughter with, to share her love with.
This lasted days.
Until her abhorrent father
Confiscated her traces of her mother.
Beloved photos soaked in tears,
White linen that she slept in scented with sugar.

She was ruled by her mean father,
Shouting out orders like daggers.
Punishing her for half of what she never did.
She was always "that girl" to him.

For years until she was set free
Into the big world,
At first she was clueless.
Not little any more she figured it out.
The only place she had was a little apartment
With two rooms and a leaky sink.
The only money she made was
From working for a string factory.
But she soon realized that it was better living there,
Far from her father.

She soon made a friend,
A dark skinned girl,
As quiet as a mouse.
She taught her how to laugh.
She made another friend,
He had olive skin,
Taught her how to love.
She mad more friends.
How to live again.
She was happy, with the leaky sink, and the low pay.
She had friends,
All types.
And shared the rest of the life with them.
She was happy.
She figured life out.
To live it with happiness,
And share it with the ones you love most.


(made it up.)

Sunday, September 26, 2010

You Got to Love Her

The soft flow of her hair flows with the scent of apple blossom,
The sweet look in her eyes as they open into wide blue pools of happiness.
We sit on the berry colored bean bags,
And jabber on for short hours about anything we can think of.
We drink sugary drinks together,
And laugh ourselves silly.
We take in one balloon worth of helium between us,
And scare our mother with the squeak of our voices.
We lie on the hammock and nudge each other,
Until 'Crash', one of us falls.
We fight sometimes too.
All the way to slaps and shouts,
But I still love her, not just because she's my sister,
Because she's a friend and you got to love her.
She's like a pet; they get annoying, and are hard to get rid of.
But you still love them anyway.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

The Girl that Finally got Caught

She'd be doing homework,
In the wolf room 'till four,
Or so she said.

She and her friends strolled casually down to the bakery,
Down the road, so slow, to study,
Or so she said.

They had gone there, to find us, sitting on a carved bench,
Waiting for exactly four,
Or so we said.

A 'gasp' we heard, and embarrassed looks suddenly crossed her face,
Guilt, sorrow, innocence,
So we saw.

The sound of her voice was soft like the white linen that draped my mothers back.
She told us that she'd been talked into it,
So we heard.

Standing there, glowing with sorrow,
It was her, the girl who finally got caught.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

UK

Britain,
the place my family was born.
The place I wasn't.
It flows through my blood
like it would flow through a river.
Not an English accent, not quite,
my own, mixed, unique, mongrel one
Haven't lived there
for more than a year.
But that's where I'm from,
where I'll always be from.

It is the place with scattered villages
but only none do I belong to.
I'm in Panama
and that's where I belong for now.
Not in Greece, Romania, Malaysia, not any other place I lived
Just here... for now.
Almost my entire family are settled in UK,
except the ones like us.
The ones who are away from pounds and high prices,
strong English accents asking you questions over and over.

I miss Britain,
with the cool weather,
with the sun till 10:00,
with the fields and fields of green and
fields with cows, horses, sheep.
Mud, thistles, nettles, berry's,
wildlife every where you look.

I'm here for now,
not there...perhaps I'll return one day...one day maybe?

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