Tag Archives: poems

Slammed

In addition to the recent influx of writing and reading I’ve been doing, I’ve also been falling down the slam poetry rabbit hole quite a bit lately. Perhaps it’s because I’m starting school soon or perhaps I’m just really interested in emotional creativity… who knows? Regardless, I’ve compiled a brief list of poems I’ve listened to repeatedly as well as quotes from each that really struck a chord. I strongly recommend watching all of them.


Boyfriend Interview” by Haley Mosley

“And I never understood people when they said that they could remember a touch until I felt his thick palms four days after he left. And when he said he wasn’t coming, I ate a strawberry and tasted nothing and I haven’t eaten fruit since. And I haven’t made sense since ten days before he left… Can you be with a woman you’ll never be able to please?”

Touchscreen” by Marshall Davis Jones

“Apple picking has always come at a high cost. iPod, iMac, iPhone, iChat, I can do all of these things without making eye contact. We used to sprint to pick in-store blackberries now we run to the Sprint to pick BlackBerrys.”

Scars/To the New Boyfriend” by Rudy Francisco

“There is nothing rational about love. Your love stutters when it gets nervous, your love trips over its own shoelaces. Love is clumsy and my heart refuses to wear a helmet… Cupid is fucking irresponsible and I’m tired of him using me for target practice… I was told that time would heal all wounds, but what exactly do you do on days when it feels like the hands on your clock have arthritis?”

When Love Arrives”  by Sarah Kay & Phil Kaye

“Maybe Love stays. Maybe Love can’t. Maybe Love shouldn’t. Love arrives exactly when Love is supposed to. And Love leaves exactly when Love must. When Love arrives, say, “Welcome, make yourself comfortable.” If Love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her, turn off the music, listen to the quiet, whisper, “Thank you for stopping by.””

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Poetic Moments.

Emolabs

So, I recently discovered the Instagram account “Emolabs” and it was such a serendipitous find. I wouldn’t normally spotlight something as inane as a random social media account but I think the vision of this one is worth it. The poet/photographer behind the ‘gram is a guy named Tony Ciampa and his photos are not only beautiful, but also incredibly vulnerable and, at times, quirky. When he’s not posting carefully crafted outdoor dinner tables, often equipped with sparklers and an attractive woman, he’s posting raw, handwritten poems juxtaposed with scenic backgrounds.

It’s a relatable, heart-wrenching, and artistic addition to my feed and I think it will be to yours too. Here are some of my favorites:

blehhh

 

 

Here’s What Our Parents Never Taught Us

tumblr_mflwcggXEG1s1vzebo1_500Here’s what our parents never taught us:

You will stay up on your rooftop until sunlight peels away the husk of the moon,
chainsmoking cigarettes and reading Baudelaire, and
you will learn that you only ever want to fall in love with someone
who will stay up to watch the sun rise with you.

You will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will
realize that nowhere seems like home anymore.

A woman will kiss you and you’ll think her lips are two petals
rubbing against your mouth.

You will not tell anyone that you liked it.
It’s okay.
It is beautiful to love humans in a world where love is a metaphor for lust.

You can leave if you want, with only your skin as a carry-on.

All you need is a twenty in your pocket and a bus ticket.
All you need is someone on the other end of the map, thinking about the supple
curves of your body, to guide you to a home that stretches out for miles
and miles on end.

You will lie to everyone you love.
They will love you anyways.

One day you’ll wake up and realize that you are too big for your own skin.

Molt.
Don’t be afraid.

Your body is a house where the shutters blow in and out
against the windowpane.

You are a hurricane-prone area.
The glass will break through often.

But it’s okay. I promise.

Remember,
a stranger once told you that the breeze
here is something worth writing poems about.

Shinji Moon

Whole

by Katrina Wendt

Stop showing
You love me
A little at a time.

Stop saying
You care
Bit by bit.

Stop keeping
Me here
For tiny pieces of time.

Because I need
All of you
Not piece by piece.

I love
All of you
Not just some parts of you.

So love all of me
All the way
All the time.

Or let all of me go
All at once
For good.

The Love Song of My Seventeen-Year Old Self

It’s funny how you can come across something at seventeen and think you understand it yet when you revisit it years later, it takes on an entirely different meaning. At that age, I loved things because I thought I was supposed to. I lived and breathed specific quotes because they were alliterative, metaphorical, personifying. I felt sage for knowing the facets of those carefully crafted words, never caring how horribly pretentious I came across to the arbiters I called my “peers.”

I had an english teacher back then – in high school – a man whom I adored and admired, who frequently told his students that he taught life, not books. It was a statement I found humorous at the time but I didn’t really appreciate the gravity of his words. Four years later,  I’ve come to realize that I’ve utilized more of the knowledge I obtained from that one class than I have any other. He helped to cultivate my love of the written word and my overall obsession with classic literature by introducing me to poems like the following work by T.S. Eliot.

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