My glossy, stickerless guitar

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My glossy, stickerless guitar

sits in the corner of my room,

begging to be picked up

every now and then.

 

Last summer I fell in love with this

urban-tinged instrument.

With its slick strings, waiting patiently to be

touched, picked, plucked by my

agile fingers, naive to the unknown chords.

 

Its melodious vibrations,

sympathetic strums,

acoustic, rusty aftertaste,

take me back to my childhood

When my dad lulled us to sleep,

humming songs I still adore to this day.

 

My guitar,

hollow like one’s chest, empty, but with

strings like a tongue, allowing it to speak

a language all can hear

but only some can understand.

 

Lines engraved into fingertips,

printed, stamped as evidence of having played for

hours off end.

 

Pure notes, rich with passion

produced by memorized patterns.

 

A false note, repeat; again.

G, C, Em, D…

practice, practice, practice…

 

My glossy, stickerless guitar,

still sitting there in my room.

Knobs polished white,

strings tightened against its frame.

So serene yet with such potential…

 

 

PoetryFriday1

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Lost in Memory by His Side

 

Every night I dream

Of seeing him someday.

 

I miss him.

The words taste bitter on my lips

An ache that’ll never

Slip away from my heart.

 

The past stuck in a loop,

On repeat, as I’m

Lost in memory.

 

He’s taller now,

Brown locks, frizzy on his head

Now and then

Rustled by the pristine air.

 

His eyes just a little deeper than mine, with

Depths I’m willing to dive into head-first.

Pools of hazel-brown

Sprinkled with emerald green leaves.

 

His warm touch

Around my shoulder,

Sparking a wave of goosebumps

Down my body, to my toes.

 

His smile,

Oh, his smile…

Blinds me with affection.

I’ll always remember him the same.

A smile like my dad’s

Reconnecting the lines of our past.

 

How I wish for time to fly by, for once.

So I can break free

From these stiff chains

And discover the world by his side,

To guide each other to the stars,

Make our dreams come true.

 

But despite the temporary distance,

He’ll never leave my mind, for

Every night I dream

Of seeing him someday again.

Crimson Red Delights

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Candy-coated fruits: sappy,

Pulpy berries that are

Bittersweet

To the touch.

Hand-picked, crimson red delights.

Plump.

 

Teeny black seeds coating the outside like

Scattered stars in the

Night sky,

Flavorless and irrelevant

 

Strawberries,

Licked and

Groomed like a ruby by the rays of

sweet sunshine

 

The unmistakable aroma that

Tingles your nose.

A fragrance so sweet,

One could nibble on the air to taste it.

The smell of flowers and

Picnics,

Daydreaming and dozing,

Laughter and blushed cheeks.

 

Mouths,

Dripping with a luscious sap,

Sticky, syrupy sap.

The smacking of lips,

Tongues curling,

Swishing to catch the

Last drop.

 

Mouths dyed maroon,

Teeth stained pink,

The brand-new, white t-shirts now

Rosey

Like the fluffs hanging above by invisible threads

known as clouds, reflecting the sun’s

Last breath.

 

 

All Hell Broke Loose in America over the Weekend…

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All hell

broke loose

in America over the weekend

due to protests in Charlottesville, Virginia.

 

In short,

white supremacists

descended on Charlottesville

to protest the city’s plan to

take down

Confederate monuments.

 

But the demonstrations

quickly

got violent, as the white supremacists

intimidated

and

attacked counter-protesters —

and then a car,

driven by a

man with the white supremacists,

rammed

into counter-protesters.

 

Things

quickly spun out of control as protesters and counter-protesters

faced off and

clashed around the city.

 

Eventually,

Virginia Gov. Terry McAuliffe

declared a state of

emergency and police told the crowds to

disperse.

 

 

A “found poem”, inspired by the article below

Here’s a link to the Original Article

 

Vox News (Aug 14, 2017, 11:00am)

Charlottesville protests: a quick guide to the violent clashes this weekend

 

All hell broke loose in America over the weekend due to protests in Charlottesville, Virginia.

In short, white supremacists descended on Charlottesville to protest the city’s plan to take down Confederate monuments. But the demonstrations quickly got violent, as the white supremacists intimidated and attacked counter-protesters — and then a car, driven by a man with the white supremacists, rammed into counter-protesters.

Meanwhile, President Donald Trump’s reaction — or lack thereof — became a major story in its own right after he refused to condemn the white supremacists, in particular, initially blaming “many sides” for hatred, bigotry, and violence. The statement seemed like yet another example of Trump pandering to white supremacists.

If you’re still catching up on a head-turning series of events, here’s a more detailed breakdown of what’s happened so far.

 

Protesters clashed in Charlottesville, and a reported Nazi sympathizer killed a counter-protester
  • White supremacists went to Charlottesville to protest the city’s plan to tear down Confederate monuments, particularly a statue of Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee. This has become a hot-button topic over the past several years, as civil rights groups and protesters have condemned the monuments as symbols of a Confederacy that fought to maintain slavery and white supremacy in America.
  • On Friday, some of the white supremacist protesters — made up of white nationalists, neo-Nazis, and members of the Ku Klux Klan — brandished torches and marched onto the University of Virginia campus in Charlottesville. When they were met by counter-protesters, they surrounded and eventually attacked the counter-protesters, triggering brawls.
  • On Saturday, white supremacists planned to hold a bigger rally — dubbed “Unite the Right” — at noon.
  • Things quickly spun out of control as protesters and counter-protesters faced off and clashed around the city. Eventually, Virginia Gov. Terry McAuliffe declared a state of emergency and police told the crowds to disperse.

Tankas – Poetry Friday

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young blood

 

Youth; us kids that roam

the streets like stray cats, prowling.

Slip through the crisp dusk,

grainy silhouettes traced, smudged

on the forsaken sidewalk.

 

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seeping away

 

Gleaming eyes; shiver.

Silence, a bitter absence.

Ready to crumble

Locked: broken past, torn future

Past, like a house of frail cards.

 

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Infinite

 

roads, traced on the map,

carved into the earth’s frail skin;

like tattoos, painful.

Wheels grind the pebbles beneath.

Wanderlust. Thirsty heart. Drive.

 

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raw nights

 

Shadows: witnesses

of our presence; company.

Our eyes like candles,

Guiding us through the brisk night.

Pristine air, fresh, almost sweet…

Third in line

After my parents.

After their responsibility, love, and care.

Being the oldest of the siblings

Is like being the younger one’s

Back-up parent.

Especially when times get tough.

Thoughts drizzled my brain

Just like the drops of water.

 

The water rushed

Out of the tap,

Onto the soap-covered plates.

I helped my mother.

 

The water rinsed off

The soap and filthiness of the dishes.

“Why is it always

The women

That end up doing the dishes?”

Her voice echoed,

Bounced off the water

Into the pipes where the water disappeared.

 

That’s not

The question on my mind.

She never asks why

I help.

 

 

Together we hung wet clothes

That were in a basket.

Piled on top of each other

they were.

 

The humid smell of the clothes,

Thick – almost – as if you could drown in air.

“Why is it always

Us

That end up hanging the clothes?”

 

 

We are at home

Alone.

Just me and my brothers;

Parents both at a meeting.

 

Curtains are down.

The world outside

Was inky black – starless.

Too dark to let any light escape.

A world that was shut off.

 

We were inside the house,

Almost ready to go to sleep.

A subtle yawn from my brother

Told us it was time to rest our eyes.

 

The minutes swept by

As I tucked my youngest

Brother in.

Words of castles, magic, and fairy tales slipped off

My dry, sore lips.

Twenty minutes have passed

But he just doesn’t seem to fall

Into a dream.

Ten minutes ticked by.

 

I left his room assuming he was sound asleep.

I stretched and yawned

Until my eyelids felt heavy.

 

As I got in bed

Ready to lay down and pass out,

I hear a hushed voice,

The words so faint they seemed to be

hanging in the air from silk strands.

“I’m afraid.”

 

Tears crawled down his cheeks

As we cuddled for a few moments.

“It’s ok. They’ll be home soon.

Why don’t we go to sleep.”

And with those words

He fell asleep with still

The traces of his tears on his cheeks

That I then wiped off gently.