Here you can find a variety of poems that I wrote myself. I hope my poetry inspires you to write your own!
Mind a d r i f t
eyes downcast
drowning in darkness
bewitched by the past
He wished he could picture
sunnier days
unclouded by woeful,
perpetual haze
But a lighthearted life
wasn’t for him
His heart was blackened,
broken,
grim
He heaved a deep s i g h
and looked over at Pooh
and asked, “Why can’t I just
be happy
like you?”
We steal across the garden
in the middle of the night
We carve our names into the oak
with help from sweet moonlight
We jump at sudden noises
praying we’re not seen
but it’s only squirrels who witness
our clandestine scene
We weave our way along the paths
confessing all our fears
The stars stare down upon us
as he wipes away my tears
“Summer isn’t all that long”
he promises with a smile
My heart longs to believe him
and I did—for a while
Thirty years have passed since then
I’ve finally made it home
I brush my hand against the tree
And suddenly feel alone
I wonder what he’s doing now
I wonder where he is
I wonder if he knows
my name’s still right here, next to his
I wander back to my hotel
and sadly sip my wine
until I’m feeling drunk enough
to look him up online
I come to find, who would’ve thought,
he’s in town, same as me
Then suddenly, I’m messaging:
“Meet me at our tree”
The darkness nearly swallows me
My stomach’s in a knot
But still somehow I find it
that immortal, timeless spot
And there he waits, pacing
but stops when he sees me
I sigh and say “Hi, David”
He breathes “Hello, Jackie”
The steadfast stars watch from above
blessing our tree, our time, our love
“David + Jacqueline.” Found on a tree outside James Blair Hall at William & Mary.
the endless possibilities
paired with my insecurities
turn me into a tornado
of new emotions I don’t know
I can’t tell up from down most days
this month’s been one long ‘goodbye’ haze
doesn’t it feel a little strange
when everything’s about to change
Beggars shiver in the streets
While you buy new satin sheets
Never enough, must be rough
You strangle Robin Hoods
And demolish neighborhoods
The stench of death on your breath
But at least your clothes look nice
The summer sun beats hard upon her face
Beads of sweat drip down her lined countenance
She looks to the future with shining eyes
Trying hard not to think in the past tense
Everything she rambles about is new
Worlds and words her hungry soul hasn’t read
Yet she’s exhausted when she climbs the stairs
And still she worries one day she’ll drop dead
Old photographs burn brightly in her mind
(But really they’re stuffed in a box somewhere)
Little things roll off her maturing back
(But she’s just pretending she doesn’t care)
Suburbia feels like a gilded cage
And at the same time tomorrow’s promise
She searches, searches—a lonely lighthouse
For answers; the truth; knowledge; hope; a kiss
She’s building bridges and burning borders
That’s the price of eighteen and three quarters
These are the lyrics to is a song that I’ve been writing, recording, and producing using the GarageBand app on my computer over the last two years, but in the last couple weeks I’ve been toying with the idea of putting it out into the world. So that’s what I did! “Get Out” is now available on most music streaming platforms. 🙂 Visit this link if you feel like giving the song a listen: https://linktr.ee/k_es_24
I’m tired of crying
On my bedroom floor
I’m tired of always
Asking you for more
I’m tired of never knowing
What’s in store
It’s just not fair
I’m tired of all the lies
You’re telling me
I’m tired of repeating
Our history
I’m tired of not wanting
To fall asleep
‘Cause when I do
I know that you’ll be there
I don’t wanna picture you
‘Cause I just cannot fix you
I don’t wanna picture you,
Picture you
‘Cause I just cannot fix you
You don’t belong in my head
I’m erasing all the words you’ve said
You don’t belong in my head
I’m searching for what comes next
You don’t belong in my head
So get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out of my head
I’m tired of always wondering
What comes next
I’m tired of analyzing
Every text
I’m tired of all your
Stupid side effects
You’re just so cruel
I’m tired of trying
To see what you are
I’m tired of asking
How we got this far
I’m tired of staring up
At shooting stars
And wasting my wishes on you
I don’t wanna picture you
‘Cause I just cannot fix you
I don’t wanna picture you,
Picture you
‘Cause I just cannot fix you
You don’t belong in my head
I’m erasing all the words you’ve said
You don’t belong in my head
I’m searching for what comes next
You don’t belong in my head
So get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out of my head
I know it’s cliche
But everything happens for a reason
And I used to say
We can work this somehow
But I let you in
To haunt my dreams and change my seasons
And I let you win
But honey that ends here and now
You don’t belong in my head
I’m erasing all the words you’ve said
You don’t belong in my head
I’m searching for what comes next
You don’t belong in my head
So get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out,
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out of my head
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out
Get out, get out, get out
Get out, get out of my head
We are like ferns grown in a patch of green
Hoping to catch a quick or careless eye
We glisten and gleam, but we are rarely seen
By the foolhardy wanderers passing by
Instead their gaze falls down upon the rose,
And as we ferns observe with bitterness,
The pink-petaled fiend does not carry our woes;
Its thorns are ignored, but its beauty addressed.
Examined close we ferns are quite the view
Yet we won’t draw travelers from their paths
Nor can our loathsome leaves and shadows of blue
Attract the sun’s smile or heaven’s sweet baths
Ferns yearn to be adored: by rain, sun, eyes
Yet soon us ferns will wilt under death throes;
The fern grown next to the pink rose always dies
True, a fern grows—but a fern is not a rose.
(Paired with “Steadfast Tree”)
O loathsome, hideous tree I see
Are you as Nature meant you to be?
On my life I cannot understand—
How do snowflakes taint a thing so grand?
The snow that weighs you down is heavy
But how can soft flakes be so deadly?
Must the lethal sheet of sleet and snow
Twist and turn your once-strong body so?
The snow determines the shape you take—
Would you shift if I removed one flake?
How soon before those poor branches snap
And fall into Nature’s icy trap?
What wretched sapling did you sprout from
That you’re so easily overcome?
How is it this blemish comes to be
Standing beside such a steadfast tree?
Who could create a creature so weak
And condemn it to a life so bleak?
Who intervened from heaven or hell
To stop you being steadfast as well?
O loathsome, hideous tree I see
Are you as Nature meant you to be?
On my life I cannot understand
How snowflakes destroyed a thing so grand.
(Paired with “Wayward Tree”)
Tree, how are you so steadfast?
How can you be that steadfast?
That wind cannot upset your roots
Nor rain dampen your colored fruits
Above all, when the snow comes down
How is that you stand your ground?
You bend not to that coat of wool
Which makes you still more beautiful
Tree, how are you so steadfast?
How can I be that steadfast?
Tree, with your steadfast beauty,
I understand your duty!
You were simply born to withstand
Mother Nature’s powerful hand
You do not sway in heavy snow
Nor can winter darken your glow
For you weren’t made to bend or break
But to consecrate ev’ry flake
Tree, with your steadfast beauty,
Your beauty is your duty.
It’s crazy how people
who once meant the world to you
can become faces and names.
Vaguely familiar faces
in a long-lost yearbook
and names in an eternal mental list
of everyone you’ve ever met.
Just faces and names.
No longer living, breathing entities—
just memories, frozen in time,
littered at the bottom of a canyon
along with your early childhood,
embarrassing moments you’ve blocked out,
and math concepts that don’t make sense.
Faces and names
that once played a central role in your story
are now excluded from the index.
Those faces and names
are only mentioned in passing,
with a word or two
buried somewhere in the first few chapters.
Faces and names
who once knew everything about you,
and vice versa.
But then
their birthdays pass
and you realize
that you’ve forgotten—
about the birthdays
and about them.