I have been writing poetry for a few years springing up here and there with new things. Most of the time I just write things down on the go or have inspiration springing from some event in my life. These poems were written in high school (I think) as I shuffle through papers I have kept. Hand writing works better for me. I read this first poem at Barnes and Noble one night for creative writing class. It's about my grandpa Massengale. I owe all credit of this hobby to my creative writing teacher from Osseo Senior High, Mrs. Endres. If you ever read my poems, I would most definitely like to hear your feedback. Thank you. I'm going to attempt to write more and this is my motivation to do so. Don't feel like you have to like what I write, I am simply doing this because I have to get my mind wrapped around something else besides finding a job...I appreciate all feedback and would encourage you to give me critiques on my writing. I am not a pro, and don't think I am. I just like to write.
California Dimples
He roamed through the street in his Chrysler New Yorker
Listening to AM Radio
The Baseball Game is almost over
A cigar hung from his mouth.
He looked up at the sky
At an airplane he once knew how to fly
Dreaming of those pilot days
As those wrinkly cheeks got older.
His bushy eyebrows would rise and fall
like two caterpillars inching away
As he told me stories
About how he was a spy.
He told me about the unsafe places
Where not to go and what to avoid
How he hated criminals
And how drugs and gangs were still alive.
He told me that hurricanes and earthquakes
Were natures way for telling us to feel thankful
I can hear his voice now
"Hunny cherish these days of your life for it is too short to waste."
He taught me computer games
Grandpa pilot, Sharon co-pilot
And we ventured through family albums
His eyes would gleam when speaking of our family's ancestry
With grandpa, a conversation was never really necessary
For those eyes of his spoke more than his mouth ever did.
Listening to him hum a song
It was a snap shot of his soul
How he showed unconditional love to his family
And how you knew he gave it his all.
Grandpa would blow me warm kisses goodbye
His smile had California dimples
Those creases in his cheeks
Like an arrow had shot straight through.
My Grandma doesn't notice
But she reveals him when she smiles
It's almost like he's sitting in the room with us
When she shows that sunny array that lights up the room.
If somebody were to ask me about my Grandpa
I would tell them of his stories and adventures
But there are some things in life that have to be experienced
And with Grandpa, that's just the case.
Sight
Let my eyes breathe
They will unwind
Intense secrets intertwined
Motionless clouds devour their light
Sandy beaches calm their existence
Seeing is only a motion
Sleek movements control the silk like glass
Pupils dilated under the swift breeze
Beauty, Lust, Magnificence
I see the world in translucent colors
Overlapping colors exalt my fears
Breathe
For there are no more clouds
I will succeed
My mirrors to the world
Let them guide me.
Passion
Burn
My passion
My heart beats like a drum
Thump
I will not let it over come.
It rips through my stomach
Approaching my throat
It rattles my veins
On a continuum through my brain.
Right Hemisphere Left
It takes a swing
Indulgence is near
It will never leave.
My passion
Stuck to my heart like glue
Conquer if you will
Come inside.
My steaming kettle
Deep wooded fire.
Filled with glory
Inside the rigid cracks
Of solid oak wood floors
Where my passion resides.
Air
Telegraphic sight.
Enduring night.
The bird takes its flight.
To fall into a land
with no delight.
Gaseous fumes.
Soot and tar.
Butterfly blooms
Hands are charred.
I fall each night.
Into a feathery bed.
They swipe my cheek
Oh so sweet.
My nose scrunches
Foresees old grunges
Punch
It will come back
Punch Punch
Let the gravity in the air
Take over
It will win
Conquer bug
til' you feel you've sinned
God I miss the
Sunlight.
Well there's my push. Time to get writing more.
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