Young Writers Society

Twenty-seven

when i meet the Lord
i want to look into his eyes
and beg forgiveness

Twenty-eight

i wish that we could stop time
and just lie here in each other's arms,
counting the wishes we drop
into a jar, labeled someday.

Twenty-nine

once, when i was seven years old,
my mother scolded me for throwing
one dollar's worth of pennies
into a wishing well

"a hundred dreams that will never come true,"
was what she told me;
she tried to show me reality
but i ignored her advice and threw
another dollar into the waters

i kept a log ever since,
scribbling down the amount
of wishes i wished today and then some,
adding on more and more as the years went by

one day, my best friend
was killed in by a drunk driver
and i threw twenty hundred pennies
down that fucking well,
begging for god to give her back to me

she never came back
and when the realization hit me,
i took that list of fifty thousand wishes
and tossed it down that wishing well
and never did i waste another penny
on broken dreams

Thirty

every morning, i go outside
and pluck daisies from a nearby field
i throw them into a tea cup
and season them with sugar

i add a little milk
and drink it in the hopes
that it will make me pretty
inside and out,
because you are what you eat
and i want to be beautiful

those flowers must be wilting
or maybe i shouldn't try this during winter
because i'm not seeing any results

i'm currently climbing a staircase to heaven
or, at least, to the stars
with one hand on the banister
and the other clutching a tea cup
filled with milk and sugar
and a perfect daisy that took me
three days to find

pulled flowers litter that field
but if my concoction with the stars work
i'll make it up to nature by planting roses
as an apology for not using what it gave me

A lot of these poems are raw and choppy and need to be fixed. But let me enjoy this moment and rest, for I have successfully finished my first NaPo and am very proud of myself.

And with that, I thank you for reading. Ilu Pengubop