It’s May, 2012. I’m nineteen, barely. I’m graduating high school with zero prospects. My life is over. You see, I’m working at McDonald’s. I have coworkers in their sixties who have been working at this same corner restaurant in a dead end town for longer than I’ve been alive. You see, I had dreams of getting a scholarship to art …
Lost
featured in the poetry forum August 5, 2022 :: 0 commentsShe marks her way
With pixels on a screen,
Tracing out shapes
To make sense of the visions.
The universe
Is random.
She tells herself.
Not everything
Happens for a reason.
But she hangs on
To the glimmer
Of purpose
Or determination,
Of order
In the chaos.
Hope is the voice
In the dark.
Even if it’s only
Inside her own head.
editors note:
No need for despair or dread. The whole thing is in her head. – mh clay
Pricey
featured in the poetry forum April 7, 2022 :: 0 commentsIn desperation
I Google
“Inspire Me!”
I am answered with
Boutiques
And Storefronts
Hocking expensive coasters,
T-shirts, and bracelets.
I don’t have two hundred dollars
To drop on a dress.
I just have the urge to create,
But no fruitful ideas.
I don’t find the vases
Particularly inspiring,
Nor the jewelry.
It’s depressing when one
Calls out to the void
“Inspire me!”
And is answered with
Luxury goods
Outside of their reach.
editors note:
Can’t purchase inspiration from the Amazon void. – mh clay
Cameron
featured in the poetry forum February 1, 2022 :: 0 commentsHow can it be
That your first five months
Have been this
And yet
You live so zealously?
It’s been tubes
And burst lungs.
Bruising
And surgeries.
It’s been Pain,
Discomfort,
And Fear.
These are all you have ever known.
Yet you have beaten every odd,
Fought so hard,
Clung to this life
With all your might.
My child,
You’re teaching me so much
About how to live.
editors note:
Alexandria says, “The last poem was about my younger twin, JJ, coming home. Three months later, his brother has been transferred to another hospital and is being scheduled for multiple surgeries. This poem is about his amazing will to live.” – mh clay
Coming Home
featured in the poetry forum November 14, 2021 :: 0 commentsI didn’t have time to
Panic,
When you were born.
You were
Three Months Early.
You both had already beaten all the odds.
A one percent chance of survival.
And now, my Jonathan, you’re
Coming Home
Today.
Nine weeks later.
Now…
Now I panic.
With your older brother
Still in the ICU,
I panic.
Can I provide for you?
Can I make this comfortable for you?
We’re all learning.
We’ll learn as we go.
Together.
As a
Family.
editors note:
Another installment in this poet’s twin saga. Still, no time for panic. – mh clay
The View
featured in the poetry forum September 5, 2021 :: 0 commentsI’m looking at a blue sky
Dotted with white clouds.
I’m looking at birds
Gathering on the roof ledge.
I’m looking at the occasional helicopter.
I’m looking at four blue walls.
I’m going to be looking
Out this window
And at these four walls
For a long time.
Because
I’m looking at
Nine more weeks
In this hospital bed.
I’m looking away
From the comfort of the past
And I’m looking
To an uncertain future.
editors note:
Rather uncertainty than an uncomfortable past. Here’s looking at you! – mh clay
The Two of You
featured in the poetry forum June 11, 2021 :: 0 commentsYou’ve really taken over,
Haven’t you?
My heart, my mind.
Every waking moment
Is dedicated to you
And often I dream of you.
I can’t write.
I can’t work.
My creativity has ground to a halt.
I feel angry about that, sometimes,
But never angry at you.
We call you our miracles.
Our looming, terrifying miracles.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
I feel like I shouldn’t be conflicted–
But I am.
You’re mommy’s little world-shakers.
And when the world quakes,
You hang onto what’s solid,
And you wait for what’s to come.
editors note:
And we wait, too, till takeover is complete. – mh clay
Of Itself
featured in the poetry forum March 22, 2021 :: 0 commentsThere are verses about poetry
And stories about prose.
There are songs about music
And movies about film.
I think there is such a thing
As to live a life about living.
For one’s existence to be so
Exemplary of the human condition
That the act of breathing is
Art.
editors note:
What’s YOUR life about? – mh clay
On A Good Day
January 30, 2021 :: 0 comments
“It’s been a while,” she says quietly, her fingers running over the scars on my arm. Like she can see my past and future, like palm reading. I wonder, briefly, how that would sound: You have lived a hard life, the fortune teller might say. This one indicates you will lead a long life. And I would think, no, it …
No
featured in the poetry forum January 3, 2021 :: 0 commentsDo not text your ex.
Do not text your crush.
Do not check her twitter.
Do not check his facebook.
Do not cut your hair.
Do not paint your bathroom.
Do not eat that entire bag of chips.
And while we’re at it,
Do not get on the scale.
Do not Google “chest pains.”
Do not bite your nails.
Do not disassemble the vacuum.
Do not sleep all day.
Get out of bed.
Get off your phone.
Do not text them.
Do Not.
DO NOT.
editors note:
Make your best “yes!” for the New Year. – mh clay