blue dress

Furbished in a full blue dress,
according to scattered friends— radiantly
transformed from my tattered blue dress,
which did not cover my legs.
As though I did not matter then.

And by a whirl of some force, a boy
of curly hair, pulled my hand. Looking at me.
We weren’t friends. Why is he here,
looking at my with those eyes?
Why me, this mess?

I told him who I was.
Nonsense he replied.
It was when flowers sprung
from the laden snow
he told me I was beautiful.

I shook my head and picked up
my dress, revealing
whipped calves and feet –
Bruises, welts and wounds.
Oozing puss --
Purple and green.
Bleeding from my pencil-thin legs
I turned my face from his perfection.

It wasn’t so unexpected when he turned into another boy.
This one with a soothing stare.
who washed my feet. Tendering each
Bruise. Welt. Wound.

I thought he’d kiss them and I cringed;
On my bed I had nothing to offer.


another note: i have a few "lost" poems right now, meaning that the most updated versions have not been saved on my computer but are locked up in my house in Newport News. These poems are my newest creations and I am sad that they will not be posted until August.

crossing the bridge

In a high school lane
Aligned with yellow buses
The chosen bus was all wrong
The trip home ends in a glimpse
I am caught in a wide, green field
Reaching far as the clouds
Are to the ground

A chorus disrupts
Arriving, loud and bright
Girls and boys –
everyone I know
Beautifully adorned
In white gowns and tuxes
Crowned in jewels

And me—
My clothes dingy and unwashed
My pearls blackened by mud
Their splendor blinds me

They march with army vigor
Advancing, to assault me with
Their shiny, glowing smiles

I want to be one of them
Isolation keeps me stagnant
As a creek-like river
with Atlantic dimensions
blocks me off

The river uproots me
I shake violently on
The thin, black bridge
Gripping the rails tightly
It shakes. It cracks.
Breaking. Falling.
Caught on it.
Hanging loose by one twig
Here am I-
Kicking violently,
Grappling, losing my grip
Strenuously fighting
Can’t make it alone

The brides motion me.
A scrape of bridge
Cuts deep
I cry-
Remove! Remove! Remove!

the living bypass

I loom my arms, long and bark
Over the breezy bypass
Spectating
colors race by, with
Use of my green eyes

I cough up dust, it
Darkens my flesh, but
All I can do is gawk, at
These creatures,
whatever you are –
A constant flow of color –
Gliding across
smooth black path
In an instant, gone
While I am who I am
Only moved
By winds and rain,
Confined to my home

Forever the colors bleed together
my lazy eyes start to drift
until I hear screeching cries,
a sudden smack startles me
You are revealed, and
Dent my brother Spruce,
He keels over at the punch
In focus, more distinct –
Not just a color—
You are a machine,
Unnatural, now unmoving
And fatal to my kin.

Your relatives slow down,
And stare. Then speed on.


Note: I have quite a number of poems to post here and apologize for my lack of attention to this blog. Now that my poetry class is over, this blog will help encourage me to continue to go back and revise my poetry as well as encourage new material. Always feel free to leave constructive criticism. That's what this blog is all about.