My Boyfriend is a Heartless Vampire Clown

9 Reasons Why My Boyfriend is a Heartless Vampire Clown:
 

  1. He never cries during movies
    (not even Marley and Me!)
  2. He wears sunscreen and a hat every time he goes outside
    (even when it’s raining)
  3. He loves puns
    (even the ones that are too stupid for little kids)
  4. He couldn’t stop making jokes when he thought his pet bird was going to die
    (although he at least waited till his sister was in the other room)
  5.  He hates perfect sunny days
    (but he loves the clouds)
  6. He is constantly making weird faces
    (for no reason at all)
  7. He hates poetry
    (but still seems genuinely interested when I talk about it)
  8. He stays up late with me
    (even when he has to get up early)
  9. He makes me laugh every day
    (sometimes even when he’s making weird faces)

Those are the reasons why my boyfriend is a Heartless Vampire Clown. And those are just some of the reasons why I like him so much.

Advertisements

Take Off Heals: A Poem

Take off heals

Change into pajamas

Pull hair up

Wash away makeup

Stop pretending

Resume identity

No more trying

            to be a pretty face

            a sexy body

            a friendly girl

No more hiding

            that I’m terrified

            that this isn’t me

            that I can’t do this

No more waiting

            to be noticed in the crowd

            to win acceptance

            to feel adequate

Turn off light

Crawl into bed

Lay there thinking

Try to find solution

Hope to change

Fall asleep dreaming

No One Can Find Z: A Poem

An A is all I wanted,

But I got a

C

Do you know

Everything in me screamed

Fail!!!!

Good grief

How does this keep happening!

I try and try, but I

Just

Keep

Letting

Myself down!

Never able to

Overcome my faults, my

Plans going to waste! I might as well

Quit before it’s too late, before the

Revolving door

Slams in my face, knocks out my

Teeth and

Unveils my inability to be

Victorious.

We all know that

X leads to Y, and

Y leads to X, but no one can find

Z.

Dazed: A Poem

Chairs scrape noisily,

and I come out of my daze.

I’ve been there, in that chair,

for who-knows-how-long.

I’m not even sure what I’d been thinking

as I sat there

and stared at my desk,

stared at it, but did not see it,

I was thinking about

who-knows-what.

I sure don’t…

or maybe I do,

I search my brain

for who-know-what

only to find it blank and empty.

But, perhaps that is it,

perhaps I was thinking of emptiness.

That big black emptiness

the kind that grabs you

when you realize you’re alone

when you realize how long you’ve been alone,

and how long you will be alone.

That emptiness that sucks you in

until you have no other option,

but to be alone

in that cold, black, emptiness.

Lost: A Poem

 

When I was four

I lost my pet caterpillar,

his name was kitty.

I lost my favorite jeans

the ones that fit just right

and my belt too.

Last month I managed

to lose my keys

and my cell phone

all in one night.

But none of that matters

when I look at what I lost

along the way

I lost my self

down the drain

smashed up in the garbage disposal

into the dirty sewers

she came out of a manhole

now she stands in my room

not at all the same

hair darkened by lack of sun

eyes reddened by tears held back

face smashed into a never changing grimace

body crumpled, tumbling in on itself

mind wandering

searching

for what has been lost

I never found

my caterpillar, my jeans,

my keys or my phone,

and I never found myself.

A Halloween Poem

So, I wrote a poem for a little competition we were having in my school’s English club, and I thought I’d share it with you. The first two lines are obviously not mine, they are from Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven.

Once upon a midnight dreary,

while I pondered weak and weary

a stranger crept behind the door.

He carried an axe and nothing more.

The house was dark

and I was the last awake.

I had no way of knowing

this would be a mistake.

I walked to the kitchen,

my bare feet on the ground,

I was too busy to notice a distinct sound.

Footsteps came closer

but I didn’t turn around.

I thought it was my father,

but I was hit and fell to the ground.

My head throbbing

I awoke a few moments later

I hastened to sit up straighter

but my body was bound,

tight ropes coiled around

as I lay on the ground.

There’s blood on the floor,

I assume from my head.

I catch a glimpse of the culprit,

he must think I am dead.

He stalks away from the kitchen,

an axe in his hand.

I struggle with my ropes

and manage to stand.

But dashing my hopes,

I fall down quickly,

with a violent thud.

Hitting the floor

and splashing the blood.

I hold my breath for a while

listening for a sound

of his hostile footsteps

but no feet hit the ground.

I refocus my efforts

and stare at the rope

realizing quickly

I have not lost all hope

There’s a knot at my ankles

and one at my wrists.

I struggle and squirm

moving my body in all sorts of twists.

The knot at my ankles must have been done in a rush

for it’s quickly untangled

and falls with a hush

I wrestle in my place

sure to not make a sound

silently contorting my body on the ground.

Alas, my wrists come undone

and the ropes fall from their place

leaving me free to run

I head to the door, but stop in my place

when I hear a loud scream from above.

I turn to the stairs

and grab a loose brick.

the hairs on my neck standing up straight

Up the stairs I run

to the room on the right

With a quick flick I turn on the light

to find a man with an axe standing over my mom

blood covers the floor and her right hand is gone.

My father lunges toward the axe man

but retreats when he sees

a glimmer of metal thrust toward his knees.

Quick, from behind I charge

with the heavy brick in my hand

A blow to the head, I hit him hard

quick to the ground I watch him land

before I bash in his head

and let him bleed till dead.

The Broken Bowl: A Poem

The broken bowl

lies on the floor

stunned, shocked

in tiny glass pieces

reflecting the kitchen lights

in a sad attempt at a rainbow.

A drop of water, like a tiny tear,

falls from the corner of one shard

falls the tiny distance

to the dusty hardwood floor.

The pieces are quickly swept up

and more tears, real ones,

join the other on the floor.

Then, crimson tears

flow from her

worn-down old thumb

painting the sink pink

as she washes away

the pain and the memory.

Everything is silent now

the screaming has stopped

but the tears continue

to stain her beautifully sad face.

Washing away the makeup

the fake smile

that had been there.

Up the Stairs and Through the Door: A Poem

up and up and up some more

up the stairs and through the door

passed the sink and passed the chair

through the door you’ll find it there

sitting high up on the shelf

sitting all alone and by itself

just waiting waiting on display

waiting waiting for the day

wishing and wishing to be moved

to a spot more approved

down the stairs and through the door

to a spot to be admired forever more

Alliteration Poem

One Fine Fall Day

(For my poetry class last semester we wrote poems with alliteration and assonance… it was kinda fun)           

On one fine fall day Phil came all the way from the capital of France. He had learned to dance, to dine, to even romance in his spare time. He came to take a chance to truly tame his aching for adventure. See if he could find a quencher for his mind. Take the time, to unwind the wires of his weary brain, and finally train his bitter heart to behave. He came upon a dreary cave, deserted in the doorway of another day. All the way, he was looking for a thing to ease the wrestling of emotions entwined in his mind. He found a yellow mound of yesterday’s love scattered on the ground. He began to bag it up with a spoon and a cup, but the bag never filled and his heart was sealed off from the love of the ones around. He bitterly began to pound his pink fist into the ground while he pleaded for lost love to be found. Then one white winter day, Phil, who had come all that way, bitterly bagged up his books and never took another weary look back that way.

Poetry Time =)

On Tuesday I will be reading a poem for the end of the year English department gathering at my school. But I can’t decide which poem to read! I would love any feedback! Thanks !

Lost

I lost my self

down the drain

smashed up in the garbage disposal

into the dirty sewers

she came out of a manhole

now she stands in my room

not at all the same

hair darkened by lack of sun

eyes reddened by tears held back

face smashed into a never changing grimace

body crumpled, tumbling in on itself

mind wandering

searching

for what has been lost

The Sound of Time Passing

It’s that noise planes and helicopters make

When you’re sitting outside on the porch

Sipping lemonade on a warm summer day,

That whooshing made by jump ropes

Swinging fast

Above your head

Then below your feet

Above

Then below.

It’s when you’re lying in your bed

With all the covers off

Cause it’s so darn hot,

It’s that buzzing in the back of your mind

That you never can figure out.

It’s that song stuck in your head,

The music you keep hearing

That isn’t really there,

Those remembered conversations,

And those that never really happened

But you remember them just the same.

It’s that sound of foot steps

That you never notice

Until they’re gone,

The noise the car keys make,

Your dog’s collar

When he runs.

It’s the tapping of fingers

On the kitchen table

The rolling of eyes

The grinding teeth

It’s the rhythm of breath

The beating of a heart.