This poem is the third in a series of poems I wrote based on the work of Seamus Heaney, a poet I studied in IB English. (You can read the first and second poems as well). This poem is based on his poem “The Skunk”. Unrealized Pale tips, purpled, they clench The pen: my life… Continue reading Unrealized
This poem is the second in a series of poems I wrote in response to the poetry of Seamus Heaney, which we studied in my English class recently. (Read the first poem here). This poem is based on Heaney’s poem “Oysters”, though I think it also has a lot in common with “The Underground”. Pursuit The… Continue reading Pursuit
This poem is the first in a series I wrote for my English class based on prompts about the poetry of Seamus Heaney. Heaney was a Nobel-prize winning Irish poet who dealt with struggles of identity and politics during the Troubles in Northern Ireland and in the tense political climate before and after. This poem of… Continue reading Falling
Who do you remember first? I mean, the first person you remember ever. Now, don’t you pretend that you have to wrack your memory- it’s not a dusty old house with a lifetime of rubbish inside. The truth? The truth is we forget most of the detritus, the bits of an ordinary life… Continue reading Day 129: Mom
it swells it builds glows gleams thrills soothes fills then it drains water through a leaky pipe you can’t patch the hole so gradually it dims fades seeps flees escapes you are cold now it would never sell you can never tell how it felt words aren’t deft in fact… Continue reading Day 122: Words
my hair is cornsilk my skin is cream my fields are gold no day is grey. I laugh, dance spin like a child- untouchable on a sepia day. I don’t know what tomorrow will be like- but I know today will stay.
soft petals coarse leaves like sunbursts from a stem bold flowers clustered like friends reaching for the light in lazy summer heat and baked clay dirt the muddy backdrop of their triumph.