Since it's Poem in Your Pocket day I figure I'll show some personal poems I've made in creative writing class...
Haiku:
In this bright morning
The birds' chirps fill me with glee
Don't you hear them too?
Cherry blossoms bloom
Down they fall slowly for us
Bringing us great peace
Clerihew (best one):
People pass by and I say I'm fine
But really I think I broke my spine
I fell out of and am under this tree
Hey, does this yard even belong to me?
Palindrome:
You know that it's true
I have a fixation
Taiko's all that I do
When I'm on the Playstation
When I'm on the Playstation
Taiko's all that I do
I have a fixation
You know that it's true
Golden Shovel (also gonna show this one to my boyfriend):
I never guessed when I met you
It would influence all that I do
I don't believe all the ways you help
Cherish, love and care for me.
I know soon I'll have to leave your
Warm embrace, but I'll always love
You, and everything you do for me is
Everything to me, provides my heart's key.
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Ted Kooser - Pocket Poem
If this comes creased and creased again and soiled
as if I’d opened it a thousand times
to see if what I’d written here was right,
it’s all because I looked too long for you
to put in your pocket. Midnight says
the little gifts of loneliness come wrapped
by nervous fingers. What I wanted this
to say was that I want to be so close
that when you find it, it is warm from me.
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“Fairies here your steps advance;
To the harp’s soft dulcet sound,
Let your footsteps lightly bound.
Unveil your forms to mortal eye.”
—Felicia Dorothea Hermans, “Invocation to the Fairies” (1812)
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Thank you
I think we fall a little bit in love a million times a day.
The way the light falls like fading starlight. The first sip of a hot beverage on a cold morning. The silly thing our dog or cat did. Or child. The way someone laughs. Old friends. New friends. That spark of connection, wherever it begins and wherever it may lead.
There is so much beauty in the world. And so much magick. It’s easy to overlook it or dismiss it as ordinary. But there’s nothing ordinary about the thing that light us up, that make the dark diminish. And I am constantly seeking out what shines, where I find it or create it. We are all meant to be lighthouses, in the end. I believe that.
Yesterday, I made a choice to let go of the idea of something and embrace what is. Sometimes, that can be hard to do, whether it’s intentional or not. But we are often so full of longing that it won’t fit into words. And we are, in one way or another, often chasing after one spark or another. Because it’s the light that matters. That makes the darkness into something less. And there are so many ways we accomplish that for ourselves and for each other.
I think connection is one of the most important things in life. The marrow of it. It’s the whole point of this mad world. I have friends living all across the globe. I have visited some of them, but not nearly enough. If you had told that to sixteen year old me, I would’ve thought you were daft. But it’s the truth. And I know the internet can be vile, but it has also made the world into a kind of cocktail bar with books. And I love that.
I have been privileged to make incredible friends. Those friends have supported me when I needed it, cheered me on, given me advice, made me laugh, held space for me when I’ve cried—often from the bigger-on-the-inside space within my phone. Pocket friends.
I’ve said this elsewhere, but if you have supported my poetry in some way—reading it, sharing it, telling me what it meant to you—thank you. It means more to me than I can articulate, but I am grateful. And, well, ’tis the season and all that.
XO
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Today is Poem in Your Pocket Day, so here's a little poem I hope you'll like. (Please forgive my presumption in sharing one of my own--I couldn't resist.)
Text:
BOTANICAL AUBADE
Waking just like
a seed today:
drowsy heavy coat
splits--
toes extend into
the bedclothes,
warm, dark, rooted--
arms above head
rise, tug at
shoulders--
on each hand
pink jointed
leaves
shiver in thanks
for the taste
of sunlight
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"you ask me, lips pressed to vertebrae,
about the ocean: does it weep
for all those lost at sea; does it
remember all it’s taken?"
Read it here | Reblog for a larger sample size!
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