Poetry, Prosetry

iambic pentameter & my fingers – Iman Messado

i have dirty fingernails,
you noticed. what can i do but assume
that you love me? and if you say you don’t
then you’re a liar. because who takes care
to look so hard at the nail beds of hands
they don’t love?
Advertisements
Standard
Poetry

The Look of an Old Book – Iman Messed

I’m afraid of prying eyes
and I no longer wish to be coherent
but i’m not sure i have cause to worry
i think it all depends
on whether or not
my heart is made up of words
i checked
it’s not
sometimes i read so much
that my heart is as heavy as that tome of shakespeare
you have hidden under your bed
that my tears smell like musty libraries
and my tongue can’t reconcile anything
save plot holes
Standard
Poetry, Prose, Prosetry, Uncategorized

Things That Are Grey – Ally Ameel

I’m not sure if it’s grey or gray, but in the end it doesn’t really matter

 

everything is blurry

 

it’s like my ears stopped working

and I can’t see very well

like I’m looking through water

and everyone is swimming

 

which I guess I am

 

I don’t know where the crying began

and when I stopped

 

but now i found myself sitting

in silence

 

I could smell cleaning products

and the walls were so white

it was almost blinding

but the light bulbs

washed everything away

 

I stared at the wall

and sometimes

people passed

in blurs of white

blending with the walls

and occasionally blue

 

I must have sat for hours

without thinking at all

 

mom came later

and did her mom thing

with the hugging and the worrying

and trying to figure out

just what I’m feeling

dad just sort of stood there

with his hands in his pockets

saying I’m sorry a lot

he doesn’t deal with sadness

too well

 

they waited

but then we had to go

and I had to say goodbye

 

I’m used to goodbyes

but they never get easier

no matter how many times

 

I stood up

and walked to the window

next to the door

the blinds cut my vision

into thin strips

but my brain put the image together

like a puzzle

and I saw her lying there

with her chest moving

up and down

I breathed with her for a while

 

I walked inside

and stood near the window

to the outside

 

I remember when

she taught me to play chess

even though I already knew how

and she broke all the rules

and wouldn’t let me take any of her pieces

not even the little pawns

 

she had cats too

but only two

so not quite crazy

like I said before

she snuck them pieces of her dinner

while we sat around the table

playing cards

when she got sick of chess

she cheated at that too

 

and she even made me watch

black and white romance films

while I sat on the green couch

with cracks in the leather

and she sobbed

into a box of tissues

 

she believed in

true love

and all that stuff

 

I looked outside

the sky was grey

it seemed to know

that something sad was happening

i was still crying

 

she finally spoke

her voice crackling

like a radio stuck between stations

 

“henry stop crying”

 

I turned around

and there she was

mrs laverne

she still wore

those silly green glasses

her skin was worn

and she looked tired

 

“henry get over here. I’m dying, didn’t you hear?”

 

I stumbled over, awkwardly

 

“hi” I muttered

 

“wow your social skills have really improved”

 

I didn’t laugh

 

“you know henry, you’re a good guy.”

 

“oh thanks.”

 

“and life sucks, but it will get better”

 

I thought

about when mrs laverne

bailed me out of jail

 

she asked me what I knew

about love

 

I always thought love was stupid

and cheesy

I thought

it was supposed to make you happy

but all I felt was grey

like the sky

 

but then I thought about

when mrs laverne

made me chicken noodle soup

when I got pneumonia

for two weeks

 

and when she fixed my car

after I drove into a tree

and she didn’t even tell my parents

 

I thought

about how she dazed off

and stared

at the photograph

of her son and husband

siting on the mahogany table

in her living room

 

and I sort of knew why now

 

“thanks” I finally said

 

she reached her hand out to mine

her nails were still painted red

I almost smiled

 

“I’ll miss you henry”

 

“do you really believe in love?”

 

“doesn’t everybody? it’s the only reason I’m still alive”

 

she closed her eyes

and smiled back at me

 

“goodbye”

 

“I’ll miss you too mrs laverne. you weren’t so bad”

 

I walked away

without turning back

in the back of my mind

I wanted to say

see you tomorrow

but I knew it wasn’t coming

   

Standard
Flash Fiction, Poetry

(untitled) – Karlee Saunders

I never knew just how much I would miss the glances we would give each other every now and then as we walked

nor did I expect my hands to feel empty with every move I made

I didn’t realize the things I was taking for granted before he left

but now his eyes are filled with infatuation for another

and I’m still here

ks

Standard
Prosetry

Heat Wave – Iman Messado

the heavy days of summer are over
the pregnant rain
and the ripening leaves
and the lazy breeze
embrace your still sleeping form
lying in the emerald grass
the heavy days of summer are over
sticky globs of strawberry jam
on thick cut meaty bread
gallons and gallons of too sweet iced tea
bumps and mounds on children’s legs
young blood running freely from cuts and scrapes
the heavy days of summer are over
sleepy eyes – inky, deepest black, almost celestial
i wonder
if i stare long enough
can i reach in
and pull the universe out?
i want this heavy, heavy summer to last for an eternity
and i see it in your eyes
Standard
Poetry

a.w. Circa 2009 – Ally Ameel

why did she write

so often

of fireworks

as if she could have become one

exploding into the night sky

finally being noticed

to hear the applause

of the wonder she created

did she solely want to be loved

for the colors that she held

I think of her often

like a foreign film

with scenes

that I have seen before

but can not recall the words of

sometimes

I sit on the steps outside

and try to make myself believe

that she will come again

that I will look down

just as I hear footsteps

denying that it is real

only to find her

looking at me

with twinkling eyes

to grab my hand

and pull me along

for another adventure

I still have the notes

that she passed to me

in the days when I so admired

being noticed

it was enough

that she would write my name

in big letters

with swirling designs inside of them

we would run away

the house shrinking behind us

our shoes slapping the pavement

as we laughed

trying to catch our breath

but running even faster

i can see her looking back at me

our hands still folded into each other

like an envelope

holding a secret

I could hear our whispers

intermingling in the air

as ice cream dripped onto our hands

and covered our mouths

she would have gotten mint chocolate chip

and somehow

we would be talking to the cute boys

and I would be glowing

because that was what happened

she would be bright

and somehow I would be bright too

and we would be an unstoppable force

even when I spilled soda

onto my shirt at the movies

we ran into the bathroom

giggling

hurrying back into the theater

we smiled to each other

as the plot became lost

but I knew that

only she would have left for me

I remember when I knew

I knew that she was leaving

and wasn’t coming back

I saw her again

but never the same

she still glowed and twinkled

but I had to learn to be bright

on my own

I hope

that she still

remembers me

I hope

that she

sometimes

thinks

of the times

when we shined

Standard
Poetry

Hey – Brooke Safferman

Hey, you say,

I just called to tell you that I love you.

Or do I? Do you? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

So I laugh, and hang up, and leave you hanging,

Like you always do to me.

This power dynamic,

It’s sick and it’s twisted and deliciously unbelievable

Like the kind of chemistry that they try to show in those old shitty movies

That you love so much,

You know, the ones that you always go on about

with all of your obscure references

that we all roll our Young and Fresh and Free eyes at

But your own freedom is something you crave

You’ve shown me how lost you’d be without it

Oh, but how you would find yourself if you gave it all away!

To someone you can trust,

To someone you could try to believe would never hurt you

But promises are dangerous things, I know.

Oh trust me, I know!

But I will never give up on showing you

What an amazing person I think you could be

If you would only let yourself become the guy you’ve always wanted

You were always too afraid to even try, you say,

Well, I’m here now.

So don’t you dare take my hand because that’s not the way we do romance.

What we have is dipped in arsenic, in benzene,

Like a shortbread cookie with the chocolate, oh,

The coating melts on my fingers, and my tongue melts in your mouth

It’s so damn easy to ignore the way anyone else has ever tasted inside of me

And I smile when I forget that you liked my friend

And you smile when I forget that I liked yours

And we come together, wrapped up in the salty smell of angst and adoration,

And we know that what we have is real, but that the movies tell us lies.

Hey, you say.

Hey.

Standard