Mostly Poetry — Poetry Mostly

"I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack"

Are you listening?

C – “I loved Emily. She was my best friend, but she abandoned me. When my grandpa got sick, she abandoned me.”

D – “I remember when I dated Dillon. I found out she was talking to some other dude.”

C – “And when my grandpa died, Emily stopped talking to me, and she called me a dick.”

D – “Dillon cheated on me. I found out I was dating an ugly whore.”

C – “And I felt so alone when Emily left me. Then I got all depressed for a while, you know, but I’m better now.”

D – “Dillon is a whore. That’s why I’m talking to that other girl now.”


The bowl of noodles is now empty
but for the yellow-tinged remains
and greasy stains
oozing on the side–stabbed by the fork… in my hand.

I convince myself that you use arrogance to hide

that you really feel empty inside

and alone

because–while your harsh words may shield you–they cut me to the bone.

Assignment: Create and incorporate context and a metaphor for the phrase “Sally is a prime number between 17 and 23” into a poem

Sally is a prime number between 17 and 23.

She is on the cusp of life,

Of  freedom,

Of opportunity.


She is to be thrust into an unwelcoming world

Filled with corruption,


And broken dreams;


Her life doesn’t have to turn out that way

Because, remember, she is only on the brink

Of all of this opportunity.

Whether good or bad,

It is up to her and

The decisions

She makes.

She is ready;

She will choose.

Sally is a prime number between 17 and 23.

I look over my window sill:









All you can eat





The choice is easy–down I go.

Yeah, i’m sure everything looks great from where You are. All You can see is that green tree canopy. But if You were here, where i’m standing, You would know that that isn’t how things really are–that the only green that can be seen down here is the scum. That down here lies decay. That we’re washed out. And dried up. Broken. Dead.

But you don’t see that.

Stars: unattainable dreams

tacked to the night sky,

always there to long for after Hope sets,

but never to be reached.

Not in a lifetime, at least.

Assignment: write a poem similar to “Knoxville Tennessee” by Nikki Giovanni

I always like the country


You can lie

On a hammock

Under the thick

Tree canopy

And hear

The sweet chirps

Of Mister Robin

And smell

The grass

And feel

The breeze

And the warmth

Of the sun

While you watch it set

You can lie there until

The locusts sing

And Luna peeks out from behind the black curtain

Of the sky

If you had your way,

You’d remove my eyes and my ears

To guard my innocence from the filth of the world.

You’d take my lips

So that no one could steal a kiss.

You’d cut out my heart and burry it

So that no one could purloin it from you.

i’d be nothing

If you had your way.


I listen whilst the locusts sing their staccato hymn

to their god.

I think of applauding them.