It’s a waiting game, I guess.
Straining my neck,
Angling it in unnatural ways
To catch glimpse of your truck.
I hear loud but steady engines roaring,
And my eyes dart to see if it’s you.
It usually isn’t.
At one time, the sound was so distinct
That it was reassurance of your coming,
But it blends into the haul
Of all other gas guzzlers, anymore.
I won’t know it’s you
Until my phone rings
Like the three hundred others around me.
I guess, I’m not alone in this.
A series of veins coursing
Into a single pulse
That makes a heart beat.
Random roots meeting
To embed an organism in the earth.
Fingers interlocking in a grasp,
Arms configuring in an embrace.
Individual parts becoming a whole.
A whisper culminating into a shout.
Each beckons, breeds, bursts
Community—where they and we become one.
Words unmarked by error and trial.
Bright eyes transmit curiosity unbridled.
And, a smile
Is its own everlasting gesture.
Quiet sobs in the backseat,
Cold shoulders and stone hearts meet.
And, the beating
…fades away…
Words falling from lips,
Letters scratched in stone.
Take what is said with a grain of salt,
For who knows a single truth
Amongst a thousand chatters?
Like bows untying,
Expressions slip out,
Full of empty emotion.
Then, we’re left to decipher
Between heart and head.
We stumble through this life.
Engulf me in your reality,
And let me see what makes you turn.
Spin me round into
A web of truths and lies
Through which only I can figure my way.
Land and sea,
Solidarity and fluidity,
Consistency and transience.
In which do I persist?
In my years past, present, and future,
Here I am in a single continuum
That encompasses all things
Arbitrary and existential
I have come to know as the world.
Heat fills the air,
Wrapping sun-kissed flesh in its midst.
Breezes are a breath of relief
Against the humid stall of a July afternoon.
In come the scorching rays
After the pouring rain.
To some, this is hell raging.
To me, this is summer living.
The heat of a beautiful moment.
The soft impression of his lips on mine
After a kiss good night.
Goosebumps rising like mountains on my arms,
As his finger breezes over my cheek.
A long drawn intake of his sweet spice,
Matched with a full exhale of my strife
Gone with the emptiness we once lived.
I carry his weight as my own:
His arms draped over my shoulders,
His hand resting on my knee.
I welcome it all.
A matter of minutes becomes
What we cherish most.
You become more than
Bark and branches.
You grow, you expand.
You can’t merely contract into sawdust
By the snap of a limb.
Leaves ruffle.
Seasons come and go,
Like lived and lost stages.
Yet, trepidation can’t make you collapse.
“Timber” no more because
A will taps into your veins.
Feeling, emotion. Life.
You feel it,
You emote it,
You live it
Until you’re an impression
On the earth that never fades.
Where are you from?
In what are your veins ingrained?
Did your life spring from
Seed or Stone?
You sprout out of the womb
And through the dirt bed,
Able to lead a life—
Air and water accessible.
From where does your wind blow?
From where does your stream flow?
The bud breeds
The beginning.
Where did you begin?
Roots.
At a crossroads,
Where do I go from here?
So much to consider.
Roots run rampant,
While vessels sail aboard.
Which way?
Forked road, left or right.
North or South,
Where do I belong?
Time will come to choose,
Either greener grass or whiter sand.
My head’s stuck in faraway clouds,
My heart’s sinking with the tide.
Two paths traveling the same direction,
A road to somewhere.
But, where?
Driving on the highway is like
Traveling down memory lane.
Exit to Philadelphia,
Where I saw The Nutcracker seven years ago.
Exit to Newark,
Where high school graduation was held.
Exit to Charleston,
Where my best friend attends college.
Exit to Orlando,
Where I hope to end up someday.
Connected to cities that bridge
My past to my present
My present to my future.
Where I saw myself at 15,
Where I see myself at 25.
Going the distance,
Miles backward.
Miles forward.
Stopping here, there.
Mile markers,
Mapping out who I was and who I will be,
Where I had been and where I plan to go.
Pennsylvania past.
Florida future.
Past to present to future,
Interstates of being.
Why red?
Why then?
Why now?
Identity marker.
Not intended to be a beacon,
Not directing lost ships toward me.
Just personality seeping through,
Passion is my uniform.
The color of heart,
The color of blood.
Love-driven.
Waves of warmth pulsating,
The need to radiate compassion.
I can’t just show it,
I must wear it.
Catch the amity-ridden infection.
Rage with me in pursuit of
Universal well-being.
Surge forward with the red.
Red then,
Red now,
Red forever.
A constant journey down life’s path,
The need to move and move on.
Life stops for no one,
As long as the heart continues to beat.
Some think that the journey ceases
When they reach their dead end.
Others see life past the end of the road.
No matter what someone believes,
the road of life will be traveled,
And, it’s up to everyone to experience it.
Blast the radio,
Immerse yourself in bliss and dreams.
Don’t be afraid to fall in sync with the path of another.
Wheels turn, clock hands spin.
It’s your choice,
But once you make it,
You can’t turn around.
Remember, life stops for no one.
And, don’t confine yourself to closed doors.
Open up, and breathe the air of others.
See the world beyond tinted windows.
Feel and move, letting the world in.
Everyone is a vehicle down the road of life.
Some cross pathes, some don’t.
Some speed, some cruise.
Some roll the windows down and soak in bliss,
While others restrain themselves to their own metal frames.
Live, and let live.
Move, and move on.
Remember, the road stops for no one.
Hi, everyone! I am looking to explore new topics and types of poetry in my writing. If there is anything you want to see from me, please feel free to leave a comment. Thank you so much for your input, and here’s to keeping the magic of poetry alive!
❤ Christine
I weep a stream
When you are gone.
You are the vitality I need to live,
For your sigh is the fresh air
To my suffocating desire.
A dose of you goes a long way,
For your touch revitalizes
My crumbling hope.
I still breathe you in.
I must drink from your well of
Ever-lasting life.
I swallow my tears when you’re around
Like the desires I hold for you.
If I were to freely release my love to you,
Your passion pit would cease to exist.
You would probably snatch it away,
As quickly as you do the air from my lungs
Every time I catch a glimpse of you.
So, I am breathing from you for
This transient notion of ‘us’.
Welcome to the Hotel California,
Where thirteen dare take residence.
It is silent enough to hear the pin drop.
Wind whirls like a symphony
Whispering into each ear in its midst,
Breathing bursts of bleakness.
The breeze picks up a pile of desert dust,
Emptiness in its purest form.
The staleness in the corridor leaks
A multitude of fears out into the dim light.
Only a jukebox stands to tell the tale of this place,
As a single troubadour for the lurking terror.
But, fortunately, fresh flesh cannot be sensed by
The masked murderers who live in these halls,
For in their solitude they find peace in this town
And only wish to rest behind closed doors.
An image is a thousand words,
But a word can convey a thousand images.
It is a matter of letting the word speak.
Look at lake, and allow your thoughts to be at play.
Do not keep them at bay, keep them on bay.
Imagine soaking in those murky Jersey waters
And losing sight to the abounding muck.
What image does card conjure?
Remember those late summer nights,
A round of Rummy to ensue on a cherry tabletop,
Aces, spades, hearts on the line.
Oxygen prompts his rapid breaths against your neck
From that mid-June daze after graduation
When his head laid next to yours,
You swooned, then. Swooned—
What a beautiful word, what a beautiful memory.
These words are not conceptually general or distant.
Broad at the surface, each word holds moments
That shape the images within life.
Life contains dreams, bliss, love.
Thus, what else could we ask for
But what lies in a word?
Locks rolling to the ocean’s wake,
Eyes reflecting the languid sea.
Those teeth shimmer like the pearls
Of a thousand oysters,
And those hands are worked like rough shell.
His arms rest like mountains,
And my fingers find stead
In between each peak.
His whisper simmers
Against my skin,
Like the kiss of Eden.
From heaven to hell,
My hands traipse
His landscape.
Top to bottom,
His pulse is set ablaze,
Like the heat of a thousand suns.
His world surrounds me so that
What’s his becomes my own.
He is of the world.
Welcome to Cat Circa 1920! I am a third-year English major with Creative Writing and Theatre minors. I am a lover of all things literary and creative, and here you will encounter various facets of my identity. My poetry reflects my many aspirations and experiences, so I hope you too find something meaningful in my words. Through words, we breed rich experiences and invent a world wrought with imagination, emotion, and beauty. Welcome to mine!
I painted my hair crimson to become
The next Siren of the Sea.
Singing day in and day out,
Telling the tale of a maid who
Longed for perpetual jade fins.
I squeezed my bosom into violet shells, and
Tied the set around my waist with seaweed.
I migrated to the coast, to be part of another world,
Where sandcastles stood in the sea as palaces for my kind.
I gave up oxygen for gills, legs for a tail.
Triton took throne, and they call him father here.
Flounder and crabs alike seemed to surround me
And commend my choice to become one of them.
A girl turned fish.
The hospital—
Breeding grounds for
Birth and death.
It can turn out
To be a story of
Pain or hope,
Moving from one end
Of the spectrum
To the other.
On a scale from
1 to 10,
How severe is
The pain,
But, more importantly,
Where does
The hope
Lie on this scale?
They strike with
The 1-to-10 blow
Every hour
On the hour.
It’s their job,
But, simultaneously,
Where’s that hand
To hold
And shoulder
On which to cry?
The hospital has a
Love-hate relationship
With time,
Fostering miraculous
And menacing moments.
If that time comes
When sirens must blare
And agony must set in,
Let hope soar over
The pain unearthing
In your mind and body,
For hope will always
Nurse and mend you.
Now,
Gently
Rupture
The even calm
And break past
Our solid depths
Where all emotion
Institutes no justice,
Love, hate, indifference—
Embracing whatever essence
Soils our impenetrable grounds.
It happens when our world crashes
From your failure to draw the line.
Dedicated to my best friend, Megan, whose experiences abroad are dawning
As young girls,
We watched movie princesses
Moving with the precision of
A Degas dancer
And singing with the musicality of
A Julliard graduate.
We aspired to be like them
In our sparkly “glass” heels
And tulle ball gowns.
Then the time came
When we realized that
Teenage boys could be beasts
And the 2001 Pontiac
Passed down in the family
Wasn’t Cinderella’s carriage.
(Poor Clunker, never stood a chance).
But, we made do with reality
And still kept our hopes high
To one day
Marry Prince Charming
And live happily ever after.
College doesn’t exactly prove to be
An “Once upon a time”,
More like
An “Once upon a hell hole”
During which
Thousands of all-nighters
And thousands in savings
Are pulled.
Despite its notoriety to
Induce stress and hangovers,
We face it,
Waiting for what Belle called
“Adventure in the
Great wide somewhere”.
Most of us
Are trying to find
Just where that is.
However, you’re off
To that somewhere, my friend,
Officially swapping
Your plastic heels
And dress-up gowns
For black walking boots
And wool-lined leggings.
Be part of that
Long coveted world,
As Ariel advised.
And, live that fantasy
To the fullest,
Coming back with
A thousand tales of
Enchanted European lands.
Most importantly, friend,
Welcome out of the fog
Into to the dawn.
Once we hit 18,
Age rolled in
Like the fog
After a night’s storm.
It slowly surrounded us
With earth’s heaviest elements:
Boys turning into men and
Playgrounds becoming wastelands.
But we looked at the institution
With our heads held high
And decided against
Recklessly endangering ourselves.
Fast forward two years,
And we haven’t much time left.
20 with three semesters
Standing between us
And the expanse of reality.
What a pivotal age and time!
We’re stepping out of that fog
Into the dawn of adulthood.
Ready to experience the world?
His blue eyes glistened,
As I spoke of my passing fancies.
This song here, and
That café there.
Always attentive,
The corner of his lips
Turned up,
As I felt
That sparkle
Creep into my eyes.
I could always rely
On his smile
To set my soul ablaze
With a passion
Outside of the tangible.
An indescribable feeling.
Day in and day out,
I had his promise:
His full attention
and interest.
The little things that
Made me love him.
But, with him gone,
I never stop
For that latte
Or play that tune.
The coffee cup remains
Empty
And the radio
Silent
Like my heart
When it’s without him.
A series of veins coursing
Into a single pulse
That makes a heart beat.
Random roots meeting
To embed an organism in the earth.
Fingers interlocking in a grasp,
Arms configuring in an embrace.
Individual parts becoming a whole.
A whisper culminating into a shout.
Each beckons, breeds, bursts
Community—where they and we become one.
Limbs entangled in weeds,
Hearts etched in the bark.
Round and round we turn,
Like a wheel rolling through the grass.
Let’s see where we land.
Cat Circa 1920 