The Lillies


You plucked each petal,
and bruised each stem.
You wanted each and every one of them.
The sepals were torn off,
and thrown in disarray.
Their blooms misshaped,
and scattered away.

Five pink lilies, sisters of spring.
The flowers left wilted,
No joy could they bring.
Oh, the horror on everyone’s face!
Found near their mother, the shattered vase.

Dripping onto their carpet,
their perfume left a stain.
Life without the Lillies—
Which culprit to blame?

Hush


My blood cascades beneath
my skin—hush, as the candles flicker.
Oh, it draws you in.
Shadows on our bare—

But your blood replies, shallow breath,
touching—
my velvety, skin—it whispers, hush.

The flame licks the cherry blossom lips.
Its taste and fragrance—a head rush.
Hush.

Pleasure with your eyes, painting
slow, long, and deep—
The wave, upon wave,
my cries.
You tell me teasingly,
hush.

Consuming our shared blood
a fire breathes.
Burning the roots of the family tree.

Imagination


The six string guitar swims in a sea
between the earth and sky. Horizon beams
projected out of my head.
A layer upon another. The paint still,
in the light’s movement.
The abstract concrete takes over
the uncontrolled. Falling in an abyss
of tantalizing emblems, that marks
infinitesimal particles
surrounding, swelling.
Drowning in uncertainty.

(Three times a day for five days assignment)


The thrum of the world’s outside my window, shades the sweet melody of the bird’s narratives.
But one mile into my thoughts, and my knees go weak.
Exhausted by the categorical nature.

Losing out to make a record,
Chimes the aggravation.
Red, red, red.

Wisps of air
Itching and burning—stings
like a film strip.

One foot in front of the other.
Free.
Eleven hours of grey,
And the class crosses over.
A square of us, talk of trips.
Cold and distorted.

The Kiss (Poetic Line Assignment)


The brush of the wind, a sweet ecstasy.
A sunrise’s caress, soft and warm.
It hums beneath my skin,
waiting to blossom and fly in the breeze.
Yearning for time and this endless moment.
A song of white fire, that tastes like rain;
the symphony of a spectrum of colors
becomes a whirlwind of uncontrollable desire.
Fantastical dreams that should not exist;
the colliding of midnight stars, along the twilight’s horizon.

Eli's Words (Conversation Assignment)


Wait.
You don’t really care about me.
Nothing.
Super bright light.
Blanking out.
You’ll be fine.
Drowsy.
Let it flow,
free as a bird.
Thanks.

Sweet enough.
Self-conscious,
Shy and soft spoken.
No, too sweet.
Stay true.

Sorry joy to yourself,
with interesting stories to tell.
I’m taking a while.


The Wanderer (Craft Assignment)


As the sun braves the world,
he smiles on.
With an effortless grace,
he roams the day
like a soft summer breeze
just sweeping through.
He is a mystery.
He is a wanderer.
His spoken words are rare-
a rare beauty.

The sun rises,
so he smiles.
Casually walking
throughout the day,
like a light summer breeze
that blows through.
He wanders around,
making him a mystery.
He barely talks;
But when he does,
it’s nice.
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