#freeform poems on Hello Poetry

AC 6d

levi

you, serendipity
i didn't expect you
but you're the best birthday gift i've received all year
and mind you, my birthday's a long time from now.

i didn't know you've waited
since middle school, for this to all work out
but i'm glad you did
so glad you did

we officially met...maybe a week ago when you confessed
so then why do you make me feel like the one having the crush?
so many things i won't understand
but so many things i hope we'll figure out together, levi.

With Levi, the Roseanne Reid song, stuck in my head...I write.

#crush #confession #hopelessromantic #freeform #freeformpoetry #freeverse #freeversepoetry #levi

AC 7d

I Will Always Wait For You

I will always wait for you.
I will be sitting on the off-white wooden chair in my off-yellow painted room staring at my off-color smartphone screen while I wait for your reply to a message I sent you fifteen minutes ago.

I will always wait for you.
I will still be standing by the table we sit at with all our friends at lunch
twenty seconds after the bell has rung while you zip up your backpack
then walk with me towards class.

I will always wait for you.
I will be bending over the road, craning my neck to look for the garish yellow bus
and your silhouette trudging up the hill but if I don’t see you in the next two minutes
slowly meandering down to look for you will be my next job.

I will always wait for you.
I will run over when I see your face all ******, body barely moving
lying on the road, then all of a sudden taken away I’ll completely forget today’s science test and
run as hard as I can towards the hospital.

I will always wait for you.
I will remember that it has been ten years today and the feel tall grass tickling my ankles as I walk,
bowing their heads in sorrow. I’ll bring you a sunflower, the first one grown at the new house, then
sit beside your weather-worn stone
and wait.

A poem I wrote for a summer writing camp almost a year ago.

#freeform #freeformpoetry #freeverse #freeversepoetry #sunflower #waiting #waitingforyou #caraccident #fiction

AC 7d

the fire

how long can one both
wish to love everyone
and yet want to see the world burn at the same time?

to watch it be lit ablaze, consuming, ravaging everything
watching you
watching you scream

it pains me too, sure,
but i've been waiting for this day for so long that what else is there to do but bite my own tongue to keep from laughing. at you.

for all the things you've done to wrong me, obsessing furiously over your collective ideals you share with the rest of them. The Rest Of Them. i refuse to even acknowledge their names at the end of the world. i refuse to believe that somewhere, somehow, in some other world, we could've agreed.

yet
i want to tend to your burns
and make everything okay again
and solve all our problems with love, that's the way it should be

but for now i'll look out at the vast field of flames
too gloriously bright, and red, and orange, and blue for their own good
then i'll look at you
and the world will end.

For one whom I love very much, but whom I wish could be more sensitive to what I believe in...and perhaps even believe the same.

#fire #watchingtheworldburn #endoftheworld #morality #longing #freeform #freeformpoetry #lovehaterelationship

AC Apr 21

all's fair in love and fast-dry nail polish

painting my nails seems so unproductive
when i could be studying for math or german or history
but i'm thinking about you.

i don't know your favorite color, or i would have painted them that shade.
though, unless your favorite color is
pink
purple
silver
crusty blue or
clear
then i guess i couldn't anyway because those are the only colors i have.

#freeform #freeformpoetry #spokenword #spokenwordpoetry #nails #crush #colors #iloveyou

Rosé Mar 26

Met my younger self for coffee…

I met my younger self for coffee down at the park we used to play.
Our eyes different but the same.
One grande iced caramel whipped cream and a vape.
Almost the same as if yesterday.
“Does it get better” but my words never deliver a false comforting taste.
A short skirt and crop top, trying to ******, I wish I could convince them not to pursue.
“We have a septum? Our hairs long too.” We also moved and are getting a tattoo.
“Are we still with her?” She made us hurt but you don’t know better than to stay with her.
“But you have love in your face?” because the woman we’re with made us this way.
“Do we figure stuff out” getting there but don’t worry I won’t let us down, just be prepared and stay safe.
It’s a coin always flipping and never deciding a decision.
As we grow older I wonder what our older self will discover.
Until next time sweetie “until next time you old tree”
Parting ways is never easy but I hope older me is prepared to greet me.

This is lowkey kinda sad

#metmyoungerselfforcoffee #freeform

AC Mar 24

Reality

there’s most likely a certain feeling within the world, sweet…and bitter.
soft footfalls gently approaching you, almost silent against the chatter of the city
making your blood rush faster, your heart beat louder than you thought it ever could
the adrenaline goes up and twists your surroundings, making them so very colorful
all of a sudden a fantasia too good to be true materializes right before your eyes
so perfect, so beautiful, almost a bite of awestrucking sticky-sweet bliss, of heaven—

yet then

it all falls down, a gleaming castle of visions crumbling into worn brick and cracked stone
crashing, shattering into millions of thin, crystalline shards of broken glass, clear as day yet cold as night
grappling on, plunging into your flesh and twisting your heart, knifelike pain searing into your skin
with ashen, burnt, blackened vines, branching out and ripping you into shreds of a being.
it’s so ****, so bittersweet, so soothing yet so stoic, so overly melodramatic
you wonder why you believed this flawed, traitorous fantasy in the first place.
it lets ripples of pain strain through you in cascades, tormenting you
with waves of sobriety you wish you didn’t feel.
enveloping with perfection, and crashing with hurt
this perfectly imperfect unfolding drama
feels a lot like reality.

#freeform #freeformpoetry #reality

Gideon Mar 8

174 "The Suncatcher"

Two pairs of pliers in my hand. A silver chain between them. To most, this is creation. But, no. This is destruction. Tugging at the jump rings is also pulling at my heartstrings. Is it sympathy? Do I empathize with the connections that my own hands wrought? No, it's a steaming burning hot coal sitting heavily upon my pride. Why am I rendering my own creation useless? Taking all the shiny ends off the suncatcher, so that it may deflect rays of light no more. Well, I must. I have no choice. I must destroy the best thing I ever made to make smaller versions of it. These flawed fractions will be nothing like my original work. They will be merely reflections of it. Like deflected rays of light becoming a rainbow, they will become less. Less color. Less joy. Less pride. I will take less pride in these smaller artworks, though artworks they are. They are only a sliver of shattered glass compared to an ornate mirror. A mirror that once reflected me.

#freeform #crafts #suncatcher #art #masterpiece #destruction

Gideon Mar 8

171 "****** Justice"

Justice isn't enough. I want her blood, but I don't want it spilled on my child-like fingers. I want it washed off of them, with simple gentleness. The kindness she never bothered to save for her own flesh and blood. I want her blood to soak into a warm, wet washcloth, held in loving, caring hands.

I never wanted her blood! She put her blood on my hands, framing a child for a crime no one committed. She covered up her own atrocities by bleeding all over a small body with small hands that only wanted a hug. Some comfort. A mother.

So no. Justice will never be enough. Vengeance will never sate my rage. But sweet words may. And warm cuddles might. Maybe a hug from someone who isn't a bleeding blood relative will make up for what she did and didn't do.

Please, wash my hands. Wash off her sins, and let me have my childhood back. Cleanse my soul of her tainted blood, until the water runs clear.

#freeform #blood #guilt #justice #mother

Gideon Mar 8

132 "Death of a Poet"

She looks out the window silently. Despite the moon’s pale glow, she cannot see very far. She is thankful, for the world’s beauty on a moonlit night might convince her to stay. She turns to the chair. Here it sits, as it has sat for days. It has been waiting, building tension and anticipation, only encouraging her heinous act. She drags the chair to the desk, and starts writing. Words flow from her pen, and tears flow from her face like blood has flown from her wrists. She stops. Thinks. Carefully places one final period to end her words, her work, her worthless life. She drags the chair once more. It finds its place in the center of the room. She finds her place with God. And the poet wrote no more.

#freeform #poet #death

Gideon Mar 8

71 "Forest of Five Feet"

Moonlight casts a pale glow on the forest of five feet behind my house. It once stretched for miles, but now it doesn’t stretch at all. It’s confined to a thin strip of land, only five feet wide. It was my forest, a place of wonder and cryptids. Now it is a flat plain that deer solemnly walk across. They mourn the trees and grass, and the life it once held.

#deforestation #freeform #nature #mourning