(Featured) Disassociation

I looked as the stars fell,

But I did not see them,

I listened for the screams,

But I did not hear them,

I searched for the answers,

But I did not find them,

Them,

Them,

Them,

They who do not understand,

I,

I,

I,

Me a soldier of my own reality,

Me,

Me,

Me,

Self-absorbed as my world crashes around me,

 

It is not their world,

But there is where help lies,

Where the fallen stars plummet.

Author: navi.  “My writing reflects how I feel at that exact moment so I guess you can glean a lot from in between the lines if someone wanted to find something haha!” Check out their site here, for more poetry:  https://navisaidit.home.blog/

(Poem) Predicting Life

I just want to be able to do it
The fact is, I don’t have the right time
The new update
The one way 
I’m not sure how to make a difference
I’m so tired but I think it’s time to go
Back to sleep
Now playing: the same thing over and over
Again, with their help
They have been the most important thing
The only thing
That makes me happy
When the sun goes down

The fact is, I can see the point
Where hell is going on and on
A lot of the day
I’m not sure how I feel
Like I’m going back
And I don’t have the best way to get the hang of it
But I think it’s time
To be the best
To be the first place in my life
I’m so excited to be able to do it

 

This poem was made using predictive text.  What could you come up with, using only predictive text?  Leave a comment or Contact Us and your work may be featured on our site!

(Prompt) My Neurons Can’t Decide What to Eat

The Time Is Now (from the awesome website Poets and Writers, https://www.pw.org ) offers free prompts every Tuesday, to help get your creative juices flowing or to challenge you to try something different.  So, every Tuesday we will be using their prompts to experiment and expand and have a little fun!  Feel free to join us every Tuesday, we’ll be doing the previous week’s prompt to let everyone have a chance to write something.  Leave a comment with your poem and you may be featured!  Remember to like and subscribe for more poetry prompts!

7/31 Prompt: Love Scientifically

What can science tell us about love? Make your own discoveries by writing a love poem inspired by a scientific concept or phenomenon. For inspiration, consider Henri Cole’s “Gravity and Center,” Ruth Madievsky’s “Electrons,” or Sara Eliza Johnson’s “Combustion.” Name your poem after a scientific phrase you find by looking through a science textbook, website, or article. Search for material that casts unexpected light upon your love poem.

This prompt is interesting, specifically because my career field is scientific.  I am studying to get my second degree in psychology.  I also suffer from depression and anxiety, and I’ve done my best to normalize it.  It’s no big deal.  I don’t often write about it though, in my poetry.  It just tends to mirror how I feel–which tends to be apathy or sadness or hopelessness or not feeling right in my body.  So here goes!

Title:  My Neurons Can’t Decide What to Eat

No socks today
No more restriction
Tear off the sheets
It’s too hot in my skin
Sweat down my head
I think I’m leaking
Ideas, Wants, Needs
What do I need
Besides no socks?
I hear words
They bring tears
But I have no idea why
No tables today
Can’t get out of bed
Don’t want to sit up
But I’m so goddamn hungry
Please, eat something
It’s too salty, sweet, hot, cold
My tear ducts are dry
My only want is to cry
Breath is meaningless
Serotonin, norepinephrine
Going back in
Stop it brain, I need them back
I need them back please
So they can decide what to eat.

Next week’s prompt: Persona Grata

(Poem) And the Beat Goes On…

A life once lived cannot be taken
Memories can be forgotten
But the notes, chords, and songs
The lives entwined in them
Moments inked across the music sheet
Are timeless
A life dancing to Ella Fitzgerald
Is still there
Manifested in a shuffle and softly sung lyrics
Or in a simple statement
Probably repeated throughout her life
With a simple smile she says
I want to dance.

(Poem) Forget

What ordered the fear
Compelled to obey
Under your watch?
Who took the reigns
When you turned help away
Held your own face?

Hey, he said
Remember? 

It’s like you don’t know
How you got here
Eight years later
A dream you woke in
Moving forward
But you don’t know where to

Remember? 

He looked at you and you smiled
Maybe it’s time to take a cue
From the uplifting lyrics
Playing in your heavy mind
Who’s to say there’s not
Another inception?
Maybe it’s time to wake up

Hey, remember? 

The sea breeze takes your hair back
Your hands pulled off your face
He was gentle and strong
Like you could ever forget

What? you asked

But you always knew
What he’d say
You just wanted to hear it

Remember

His words permeating your skin

You’re my girl 

Exhale.
And what if I can’t?

He grinned. Then you’ll try again 

How do you know?

Because you’re my girl 
And you, darling, 
Can do anything.  

(Featured) Through the Veil

A woman sings, when I was born,
I stepped through the veil. Her mother
and father are myths she’s still making.

His dark skin, whether sun or melanin,
darkens as his Harley thunders
down the highway, sweat in his beard,

a single point in his mind where
she could curl up and fall asleep.
Her mother has scars on her back

from where they removed the wings.
No angel, she studied the butterflies
and joined them; was caught the day

she picked up her legs and flew.
The woman’s friends trust her with secrets.
She puts them where she came from:

she cannot reveal what she never knew.
When she waves goodbye with the light
behind her, her friends mistake her hands

for birds. They are, but she holds them in.
She’s afraid of giving birth. As a child,
she couldn’t find herself in the color wheel,

so she turned to soil, and in the sundown silt
where her legs became flippers in the delta,
she found her hue. She asked it why?

It said something she couldn’t hear.
In her dreams, the words are coming
clear as the coal cries in the mountain,

mixing men with rock as the tunnel
folds, the pressures of life
forcing us to bear diamonds.

They will be taken in blood.
She tells the birds in her to build
their nests over the shiny parts.

Ricky Ray was born in Florida and educated at Columbia University. He is the author of Fealty (Eyewear, 2018) and the founding editor of Rascal: a Journal of Ecology, Literature and Art. His recent work can be found in The American Scholar, The Matador Review, Amaryllis, Scintilla and One. His awards include the Cormac McCarthy Prize, the Ron McFarland Poetry Prize, the Fortnight Poetry Prize, and a Whisper River Poetry Prize. He lives in Harlem with his wife, three cats and a Labradetter. Their bed, like any good home of the heart, is frequently overcrowded. Visit rickyray.co and rascaljournal.com for more.

Ricky’s latest book, Fealty, can be found here: https://www.amazon.com/Fealty-Ricky-Ray/dp/191247722X

Please also consider checking out a wonderful cause that Ricky is passionate about: https://www.wildbirdfund.org/ Their mission is to provide medical care and rehabilitation to native and passing migrant wildlife so that they can be released back into the wild. And to educate New Yorkers about the rich diversity of the city’s wildlife and how to help it thrive.

(Poem) The Gift

To be an elder, sometimes
We look at their form and their wrinkles
Or their gait and their circular words
And wonder
How can we help elders?
But rarely do we see them
As a gift

A woman that I’ve come to see
Oftentimes she sits quietly
Observing, not initiating,
But one day she was outspoken
Her beautiful rings, bold and loud
On her tiny hands
She showed me, proud
Unable to name where they came
But they made her happy
The little things

Aw, I don’t have any rings, I said
And she looked at me seriously
You should, she said
Have your mother or father buy you one!
It was important, somehow
With her words so few
I wasn’t sure what she had meant
And I had laughed at the sentiment
But I took something from it
“See you tomorrow!” she said
For the first time

Over the weekend
I wandered into a knick knack shop
I came across a beautiful ring
And her message came to mind
Not bought by my mother or father
But by myself
My ring was empowering
I look at it sometimes
Such a little thing
Such an important thing

And now I think
How do elders help us?