12/30 we was happy (National Poetry Month Challenge)

…and then suddenly all this poetry fills my head, and I write…

xoxo,
la.

12/30

it’s not the big things
not at all
like the celebrations or the milestones
but the mundane
the everyday
when i’m washing dishes
painting my toenails
sitting in traffic
it’s the nothing too particular
the not very special
the i’ve probably done this a million times in my sleep
it’s then
that i think of you
when i remember your scent
laugh at your laugh
when I’m not paying attention
when i’ve stopped building that fence around
– well everything –
that a scene replays in my mind
that a smirk sneaks upon my lips
that i steal a secret moment of silent reminisce
i can handle the big things
but it’s those little things
those fleeting moments that don’t mean much of nothing
that time when time doesn’t count
that i remember
there was an us
and we was happy.

8/30 the barrel of a gun : Brazil, day 2 (national poetry month challenge)

8/30 the barrel of a gun: Brazil, day 2

So this is what it’s like to look down the barrel of a gun
I kinda always wondered how that felt
(but not really)
They say your whole life flashes before your eyes
(but not really)
More so just what’s more important:
the contents of your bag or the contents of your life
(It’s probably not even loaded)
But really can’t afford to take that chance
“Da-me sua bolsa.”
Amazing how I understand that ever so fluently:
MasterCard
Cash
Keys
Cell phone
Lip gloss
(That cell phone is really gonna hurt)
“Não, seu telefone também…”
Did I say that out loud? Must’ve, he heard me…
Bags gone.
He’s gone.
But… I’m still here.
So this is what it feels like to look down the barrel of a gun
I’ve always kinda wondered how that felt
(But not really).

1/30 – National Poetry Month

So I’m a Poet. Well, I used to be. No… scratch that. I still am. I just don’t write as much as I used to. At least not on paper. I write a lot in my mind, but those thoughts don’t always make it to paper (screen). But this month that changes. This month is April – officially National Poetry Month. And what happens in April? 30/30. Thirty poems in thirty days. They don’t have to be good poems – and I can assure you they won’t all be! But for once in my life, I would love to actually complete a 30/30. I’ve started before. I’ve failed before. Repeat.

But thanks to the gentle (not so gentle) urging of fellow poets and friends, I am throwing my pen into the ring. And with that, ladies and gentle, I give you my first piece of the month. Hopefully by the end, this blog will be 30 pieces richer….

1/30

I’m sorry I was unfaithful.
You,
My first love
Me,
One of many in your lifetime
You claimed me as your own (in public)
Let me take your name
I failed you.
Couldn’t devote the time you required
Attentions diverted
Loyalties tested
I wasn’t what you needed
When you needed it
I left.
Still occasionally flirting
Toying with emotions not fully forgotten
You remember me
I remember you
Curled up, feeling like home
I’m so sorry I left you
…But I’m back.

My open letter to poetry.

xoxo,
La.