Irene Morgan (One Year Later)

If you saw my Facebook post last week, you'll know that after almost a year, I discovered that the Scripps College Journal had published one of my poems.  I had written it for Introduction to Creative Writing under the prompt: "Write about a historical figure."  At first I wanted to write about Rosa Parks, but then I discovered Irene Morgan, who had actually refused to give up her bus seat 10 years before Parks did.  I'm glad I was able to offer her at least a little more visibility through my writing, which I hope you'll enjoy here.

Irene Morgan

Spoiled meat sandwich in my hand,
Shuddering metal underneath my feet.
Black and white bodies shouldn't
Be in the same line of poetry, let alone
On the same old bus with tired blue rust.
It's what the law demands, yes?
Wait.  They keep trying to erase our side
Of the colored line, but our edges still grate.
"Lady!" the driver shouts at me.  He means bitch.
"Get outta that seat and go to the back!"
I see his puckered pink mouth,
His fat face ripe as a plum,
Yet he calls himself white?
I think I would rather release
My feet from the spine-snapping weight
Of wiping wet noses and stuffing
The mouths of my family like turkeys,
And of daily building green metal birds
Whose droppings can kill and win wars,
And of working underneath angry sunshine,
Picking white puffs spurting from their leaves,
And feeding them to the master's rolling machine.
I turn my eyes to the plum-faced bus driver.  I smile,
And in the same creamy, dripping voice I use when

Speaking to my children, I tell that driver he can just go to hell.

Footprints

If you've been following me since the beginning, you probably remember my poem "Like Footprints" (if not, just click here).  I have progressed a lot since the day I posted it, and after a semester of poetry at Pomona College, I've decided to do a complete rewrite.  In fact, I'm not even sure if it's fair to call it that, since the only thing I've kept in this new poem is the idea of footprints in the sand.  Something that I miss from the original is the rhythm that it had to it, but I think there are some great things about this poem as well.  Some changes are probably going to be made to this poem after the poetry workshop on Tuesday, but I thought I'd just post the most recent version I have now.

Footprints

Your footprints in the sand
Are swallowed by the seawater

Palm-palm touch
My hand hangs in the air, waiting

I miss your sticky fingers
Glued onto mine in a flesh mesh

My soles slap-slap the pavement
The echo of your footsteps ping-pongs

My hand ventures into the casket
You're frozen in all kinds of ways

One day these black-clad figures
Will live, forget life, but

I can't unremember
Your print's still stamped on me

Mind Adrift

Hiya, guys!  Whaddya know, I'm making a post in the middle of the school week (I'm currently procrastinating my homework… shhhh!).  It's for something important, okay?  I'm thinking about submitting a poem to the Scripps College Journal.  I've already gotten my poetry class's opinion three times and my twin's opinion one time.  Before I do the daring deed and turn it in, I want my lovely followers' opinions.  The deadline to submit is coming up quick, so please reply soon.

Mind Adrift

sometimes it goes too far
but it still has yet           to touch

resting my head in
the hollow of your chin

tucking my arm into
the fold of your elbow

sliding between the gaps of
your slightly parted fingers

mingling my legs with yours
skimming the edges of you

Me-Shaped Hole

Inspired by this post

Me-Shaped Hole

There is a Me-Shaped Hole

In my parent's house,
Which creaks and groans in mourning
In the wooden desk,
Which stands stiffly and lonely
In the old brown couch,
Which slumps in its silent space

There is a Me-Shaped Hole

In my mother's hands,
Which used to always cook for me
In my father's eyes,
Which used to nightly read to me
In my sister's mouth,
Which used to eat my food for me

There is a Me-Shaped Hole

"We miss you."

There is a Me-Shaped Hole

In my high school's bookshelves,
Which are filled with new favorites
In the scrawling whiteboard,
Which has new lessons, new tricks
In my old teacher's brain,
Which brims with new things to learn

There is a Me-Shaped Hole

In far off friends
Who ventured to distant Dreams
In misplaced classmates
Who have gone to Who-Knows-Where
In acquaintances
Who traveled to AfterLand

"I miss you too."

There is a Me-Shaped Hole

There is a Them-Shaped Hole

The Shrug

Since I haven't made a post all month, I figured I might as well put one up now.  I wrote a poem a while ago called "The Shrug," inspired by a conversation my dad and I had about the constant use of the word "shrug" in stories.  I poked at the poem a little bit today to edit some things, so hopefully it has come out all right in the end.

The Shrug

I despise that thing you do,The symbol of simply not caring,The portrayal of plain lazinessIn preference to spoken words.

When I ask you a question,Or request an opinion,All I get is the tensionOf your shoulder muscles.

The upward, then downwardMotion of your bare shouldersCauses the vomit to scream up my throat.I become ill at the mere sight of you.

Oh, where is the cure?The refreshing articulationOf your smirking, grossly underused lipsIs all I need, and all I want.

No one does it as much as you.Thankfully I know others more eloquentAnd capable of accomplishing moreThan your infuriating shrug.

What Is Love?

Hey guys, there's a love poem contest going on at my school.  Do you think I got a shot at winning?

What Is Love?

Love is the pink petals of a newborn rose

Love is the soft sunlight of a dawning sky

Love is the crude kiss of a wandering wind

Love is the sustaining soil of a verdant earth

Love is the chubbiness of an infant’s cheeks

Love is the depth of a smile’s dimples

Love is the swelling of a woman’s heart

Love is the yearning of a man’s soul

Love is the embrace of a faithful father

Love is the caress of a marvelous mother

Love is the jabs of a bothersome brother

Love is the smack of a smirking sister

Love is the world’s word of misuse

Love is the child’s emblem of hope

Love is the star’s source of light

Love is the sage’s center of thought

Love is the seamless intertwining of fingers

Love is the undeniable power of Shakespeare

Love is the potent adversary of hate

Love is the purest essence of life

Love is the cross of Christ on a hill

Ode to a Friend

This post is dedicated to Grace Moore, whose birthday is today.  Love ya, chica!

Ode to a Friend

For Grace Moore

My love so dear,

Should I want another sister,

It would be you, I fear.

None can quite understand

The bonds that have us entwined,

Yet none would reprimand.

I do oft wonder

Whether anything vexes you,

For wrongs roll down your shoulder

So very smoothly,

Without a scratch on your skin.

You endure my remarks so patiently.

Rejuvenating camaraderie,

Overflowing in your fountain,

Quenches me for free.

Yet not so free, perhaps, 

For when you need me,

I'll join you in your mishaps.

Look for Me

I know it hasn't even been a week since my last post, but I've just been inspired.  So, I had to write this down and, of course, I had to post it.  Edits and critiques are welcome, especially since this is hot off the press.

Look for Me

Look for Me in the shadows,

in the depths.

Look for Me in your heart,

in your very soul.

Look for Me, darling,

look for Me.

I say it again.

Look for Me in the mass

of people before you.

Look for Me in the eyes

of a total stranger

and of a close friend.

Look for Me everywhere.

Look for Me in the hallowed halls

and in the grimy gutters.

I am everywhere.

I am right behind you.

I am nose-to-nose with you.

I am just above you;

the soles of My feet just graze

the crest of your head.

I am below you, calling your name.

Ah, look for me, for I am waiting

to be found by you.

I purposely leave behind my tracks.

I discard the clues along my path.

I write you a note everyday.

I send you the treasure map to find Me,

and yet you have not found Me.

Where are you?

Everywhere that I am not.

Oh how I long for you,

sweet child of mine.

You know where I am.

Come look for Me.

I promise you will find Me.

He is not lost, but wants to be found.

Like Footprints

Hey, so this summer has been SUPER busy, even though I don't have summer school or anything like that.  Either way, I haven't had time to update until now.  Below this I have put a poem that I recently composed.  I was inspired by a day at the beach earlier this week, when I saw everyone's footprints being instantly washed away by the ocean's waves, with no traces left behind.  I'd been itching to write about it since.

Like Footprints

Like footprints in the sand

Being washed away by the ocean's waves,

So you were washed out of my life.

Like peanut butter and jelly

Sticking together between slices of bread,

So we went together oh so perfectly.

Like raindrops and sunbeams,

Who are opposite yet form lovely rainbows,

So we were juxtaposed in the sky.

So now you're gone

And my heart grieves

Because I have lost more than just a friend

Like footprints in the sand

Being washed away by the ocean's waves,

So you were washed out of my life.

Only your print has not left my heart.

A Daily Miracle

"A Daily Miracle" is a poem that I entered in a contest hosted by the American Library of Poetry towards the end of the last school year.  Just recently I ordered and received a book with my published poem in it :D  I know most of you have already read it, but here it is anyway for those of you who haven't.  A special shout out to Pastor Joel for reviewing my poem via email.  Anyway, merry Christmas!

A Daily Miracle

Every day you can HEAR,

Every day you can SEE,

You can see a MIRACLE

As realization DAWNS in the GLEAM of a pupil's eye.

When the perfect string of WORDS is formed

Or the equation is SOLVED,

The IDEA materializes and CREATIVITY is born.

How are these CONNECTIONS made?

It is something taken for GRANTED, 

But it has been a persistent MIRACLE.

Parables, Scriptures, Pictures,

Models, Diagrams, Charts,

Stories, Poems, and WORDS

All help you see the KNOWLEDGE and BEAUTY

Of every aspect of our LIVES.

This is worth MORE than a SCORE on a page.

What is this MIRACLE, YOU ASK?

L-E-A-R-N-I-N-G!