I GUESS YOU CAN CALL IT LYING BY OMISSION? okay, green thing compound-eyed, shifting-winged you’ve caught me in the act, and the confession’s pouring out mean:
i’ve always been able to See past these little glamours and witness the puzzle laying underneath like your nacre hands trembling and clenched pearlescent jaw and your shining dewdrop eye facing each end of the world
and turning and turning and never once settling on me
but my lips are shut, green thing mantis-legged, dragonfly-swift i dare say you’ve caught me in the act, but you can’t be released, see:
your pretty name’s captured between my dog bite teeth
MEADOW TALE the kids found a little bee trembling in a bed of mexican marigolds miles and miles away from her home
her body was but a speck of dust dwarfed by the grandness of their small, creasing palms
so they took her inside fighting all the way of who got to mix that magic potion
that sweet bumblebee cure: one part water, two parts sugar presented proudly on their finest silver spoon
she drank through her quivering proboscis as the kids watched with bated breath, as if awaiting her next command
and the bee recalled her childhood neighbor from the next hexagon over supping on exquisite royal jelly
and next-in-line for the throne—oh, she wanted to keep this young feeling forever of being the served and not the servant
back to the clover field the cured bee wandered, silent and evasive of the details of her perilous tale without question, she returned back to work
but on that gentle night, she clocked in, tired of the toil and traced the shape of that medicinal memory now sealed shut within the honeycomb
this was written as my napo day 2 poem, but before i started this thread i had posted it on ywp already! whoopsidoodle. this version has a few differences after i revised it a little bit per bpmzcpl's review!
VANESSA GIVES A PEP TALK TO HER BEST FRIEND it’s not dress-up anymore—we don’t play that game. it’s not markers on your face and cutting your own hair at Mattel Barbie’s Beauty Salon, trying to make yourself look like mama but instead turning out a fool.
(no, girl. this is a whole new beast.)
you’ve grown, girl, then act like it. wear high heels and let blisters erupt on your feet. slough makeup off your cheekbones and gasp in horror at that fake in the mirror. you are GROWN.
we do not go to the swimming pool without an agenda or show off bike streamers around the block. no, big girls frequent dark places and dress tight. big girls like you and i—we frequent neon signs.
(follow me, girl. we will kill this long-suffering beast.)
I love the last poem because I definitely get the sense that it's providing some larger social commentary on girls growing into women. These lines were particularly powerful, in my opinion: "big girls frequent dark places and dress tight. / big girls like you and i - we frequent neon signs."
Your poetry has a strong sense of voice - really enjoyed the word choice in poem 2, and the strength in poem 3 - definitely came across as a sincere peptalk between friends. Also great napo title! Just noticed it's a play on "napowrimo" - so creative!
you should know i am a time traveler & there is no season as achingly temporary as now
@Lavvie Thank you thank you! That was definitely what I was going for in terms of its content and those two lines C: Sometimes a phrase pops into my head and I'm like, gotta write that down
@alliyah Thank you!! Word choice, imagery, and all the stuff that makes a piece distinct just keeps me going ;O
GERMINATION through thick, winter-hardened ground springs the season’s delicate crop with its gangly, adolescent stem and thin, naive roots pushing, pushing
and eager to escape its childhood shell, to propagate the sweet soil of the field ah, that tender green harvest—how nicely ambition wraps around its leaves, but
it must not reach for the sun so blindly when it’s got so much more to learn how to smartly position its roots, how to brace itself against the winds
because nature is not all nurture, no nature is the rest of the greedy crop tugging, tugging, and leaving the field to wither in fine, sunburnt dust
how hard it is to grow up, to find one’s place in the dirt when everyone wants to sap you dry and take over their little worlds like sharp thistle weeds, yet it is
through thick, winter-hardened ground that the season’s hardy crop must spring with its steady, inquisitive stem and stubborn, persistent roots pushing, pushing
i have not seen the outside world in fourteen days, but i witness the little pieces of it that my father brings in: store-bought fruit, culver’s six piece shrimp and fries, and four bags of rice that he insists go in my room
i have not seen the outside world in fourteen days, but the news app on my phone sees fit to update me on every bold headline a tiger was infected, i want to text my friends, they think the handler was asymptomatic
i have not seen the outside world in fourteen days, but my mother always warns me to wash my hands, to stay away from my friends, even though she'd never let me take a step out the front door
i have not seen the outside world in fourteen days, but that afternoon my father sees it fit to teach me how to drive, and as i burn under the glass windows, the streets are flooded with tow-headed children and panting dogs
i have not seen the outside world in one day, but there it goes, shining so brilliantly on the grass that everyone can’t resist going outside—and i’m terrified for them they act like nothing is happening at all
If you can't get out of your comfort zone, you'll never find what you're looking for. Don't make things quick and easy to feel better short term. Make a change and then you'll feel better longer term. — Frinderman
Also great napo title! Just noticed it's a play on "napowrimo" - so creative!
