Sixteen today, a sunlit affair,
A sky of promise, carefree and fair.
A heart that's light, a spirit that's bright,
A future unfolding, pure and white.
A world of wonder, a stage to play,
A thousand dreams, a brand new day.
With every sunrise, a chance to soar,
To chase ambitions, forevermore.
A bond of friendship, a love so true,
A circle of joy, a faithful few.
Grateful for blessings, for grace divine,
A life so precious, eternally mine.
Sixteen today, a gift from above,
A tapestry woven with threads of love.
With every breath, a reason to smile,
A sixteen-year-old, pure and guileless, for a while.

Sixteen today, a milestone they say,
But inside this heart, a storm does play.
No joy, no cheer, no spark in my eyes,
Just a heavy sigh, and silent cries.
A world of expectations, a mask to wear,
A smile plastered on, a facade to bear.
The pressure to be alive, to fit the mold,

A suffocating weight, a story untold.
Lost in the crowd, invisible and unseen,
A fading presence, a forgotten dream.
Yearning for connection, for someone to know,
But met with indifference, a vacant blow.
Sixteen today, a bittersweet affair,
A birthday wish for acceptance, for someone to share.
But for now, I'll carry this burden alone,
A sixteen-year-old, lost and unknown.

Sweet Sixteen Years

<••>

had to get the calculator
cause this brain refused
this math,

2024 - 2008 ‎ = 16

yearlong furlongs
a dustance existential
impossibility:

She selected me from the
millions of riffraf looking
for a living romantic love,
which perhaps while
not a complete miracle,
but something, that had
been as elusively beautiful
as a running back shedding
11 tacklers and well,
scoring a touching down
(n.b. it’s a Sunday)

a touchdown elusive
and once thought,
a deluded inconclusive
belief from the realm of
music and poetry,
an aberrant belief
in a life of mundane
and oft much pain

that periodically stubbed
one’s toes with streaks of
sparks, but never was carded
for one who had not
learned
the definition
of longer
lasting,
open ended,
unimaginable,
genuine
to expect, believe
that it was a
validity,
nothing but a
legal fiction
never to be a word in
my finishing diminishing
vocabulary

there will be no candlelight
dinner, no popping corks,
no mad jewelry hidden in refrigerator,
maybe just some
outshine lemonade icicle popsicles,
a modest treat
for an e-xtra oh-never-ordinary
travelogue with no final
destination penned in
blue-black ink

for the record:

she picked me out,
she came late to
our first date,
and fully agreed
on a third date,
that commitment
was a pressure
neither desired,
agreeing with a
hearty high five

so here she is,
always a present,
always an available
sujet for one more
onlylovepoem
to scribe, and
complain
how a poet goes
on and on and on

which is a reminder to self
to quit writing too much
when there is still a
tomorrow to add to this
poem

October 21, 2008
My birthday
As a kid I was always so excited
I had a list of everything
That I desired for my special day
But now I'm turning sixteen
I don't know what I want
I don't know who I am
And for the first time
I could care less if my birthday came
Or if it just passed me by
Like everyone else in this cruel world
I feel lost
Broken
I want to go back
To when things were simpler
I just want to be a kid again

So it is my birthday today
Though this day i feel no different than normal
Perhaps a little sad
As yesterday i had a bit of a conflict
But I won't let this person have control over my birthday
Today is supposed to be special
Though most things have gone wrong
I forgot my coffee this morning
And Spotify gave me the worst songs on my playlist
Still, today is my birthday
I am sixteen
It is a time to celebrate the sixteen years i have been struggling along
Tomorrow will be the same as yesterday
And today will be the only
I think of my favorite flowers
Red columbine, clematis, water lily
Trembling, mental beauty, tranquility
I think that if someone gave me a clematis today
I would cry and preserve it forever
I'd like to hide away
And sit with my poetry
And cup of coffee
Writing about the beauty of the world
That I cannot see

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                               Rod McKuen at a Garage Sale

We don’t know who Baby ****** and Tommie were
They sent each other notes and underlines
And colored slips of paper from page to page
In Someone’s Shadow (“Hardbacks 25 Cents”)

The exuberance of adolescent arcs
Reminds us of our long-ago callow youth
When we thought we had discovered something
In secretly sharing free verse in home room

And we had – indulging in forbidden lines
Is still good therapy for being sixteen

They discussed Prom and silly boys who talked big, but
couldn’t tear open a ******.

They squabbled over pole-position in a race that didn’t matter- And
analysed events made cinematic in re-telling.

I leafed through a magazine:

One Girl’s Plan to Meet and MARRY A MILLIONAIRE (who isn’t a creep)
~How to dress to be taken seriously
Top Career Women Tell Their Secrets
~Hot spring fashion
The TRAP of Living Together
~CK One (selling equality)

For a moment I pictured myself applying lipstick, then thought better not.

It was all *******.

I shoved the magazine back in my bag- with Tess, exam texts, and
a clean change of clothes.

The bus stopped right outside.

He made me tea, and I read bedtime stories to his kids.

After:

We drank white-wine in the garden, kissed and found peace-
Searched for stars in a sky the colour of storms.