I'd Like to Think

Oh, pity that the flower be bled in its prime,

no, travesty the father fall to grips of punctured heart,

but how I pray everyday he lives in a world sublime,

and rue the fact that we live apart.

 

And I observe the trenches where tears once trickled,

one the stone shell of his withered bride,

her eyes behind two thick rims searched for his once,

and years passed before frantic blinking did subside.

 

Every morning I peer at this small, shattered woman,

and the frame that holds the forever young man's face,

I rest hand upon cheek at that which they went through,

and I'd like to think someday they'll live in some better place



The Early Stuff: Freshman Year: "From Me to Him"

When I was young, they told to me,

Love is only in a foreign place.

And now I'm here , and it's you, my dear,

and our love seems rimmed with lace.

 

You place your hand upon my hand,

And my skin cannot contain me.

felicity has come to me,

and only doubt can chain me.

 

You talk,  I listen, your eyes glusten,

your intelligence confounds me.

You laugh, I laugh, forget all wrath,

and your love, my love, surrouns me.

The Best Has Yet to Come

I imagine Michelangelo may let loose a green monster,

at the sheer masterpiece that you have in store,

a portrait of love and heartbreak and success

for me, that is who it is for.

A life filled with words,

bubbling from the edges of my mouth

with sweet subjective words on my tongue,

in the northern city, after I escape the south.

And Atlas' strength shall buckle,

for he shall want to know,

all that child at mother's teat suckles,

and the lights of his bretheren in the night sky show.

The earth spins faster than,

he who runs the other way,

and I know my life is coming,

and I relish the dawn of that desired day.

Man-Eater

Man-eater, man-eater,

How many is enough?

one, two, maybe a few?

Monogomy is tough!

 

Man-eater, man-eater,

What if I want that boy?

Make the switch, you vile b****
I guess now he's your "toy."

 

Man-eater, man-eater,

can't I please have one?

They're not all for you, you evil shrew,

but you played and now it's done.

Man-eater, man-eater,

I'm hungry and I'm weak,

"a" not "e," one man youe see,

Is that what makes me a freak?

 

 

 

Why poetry?

Maybe the few people who have read my blog noticed the trend of poems flowing from my brain, into my fingers, onto the keyboard and projected on their computer screen. Since I was a freshman in high school, to remedy my hopeless ramantic personality, I devised a system of channeling my thoughts into poems. The first ones were terrible, but I think after a while I developed a knack for it. Maybe I lost some rhyme scheme, but I never hold back anymore. I'll share soon some of those poems that I wrote in the beginning.
 Love,
Miranda

I digress, please don't read

A man and a boy,

please show me the difference,

a boy too short to be named a man?

The only difference:height

barren in emotion

juvenile in action

casi calvo, the only sign of edad.

dime, quiero saber,

hay un hombre en este pais con humilidad

con intelegencia?

with the exception of my best friend

he has direction at least,

but his favorite books are my favorite books from the lost generation,

maybe we are both lost

maybe we are all lost

I wonder if Hemingway ever found a way into the light?

I digress



Time Zone Battle

When beams tiptoe upon the horizon,

ready to slumber under the blanket of the bay,

rays peek through your rested window,

eager to greet you and wake you for day.

 

If only I wittnessed the wake from your slumber,

though only if I rise from mine,

One more healthy eye breakfast

and my hunger pains ease to benign

I Should Have Moved

When the sticky heat of summer cools to the milky morning of fall,

I remember it all.

When I think of when I held his hand and the smooth luster of his look,

I think of what he took.

When he asked me to help him and in reality he asked to help me,

I love what I see.

When I think of how I 'll never see the lines that draw his smile,

I sit a while.

When I recall all the emotion I feel and how it willed me to write this,

we should have kissed.

Reconsidering Self

Here I go again, again, again

I finally feel satisfied with myself,

but then, oh then, then,

I find someone judgemental staring

when, when when

when I look in the mirror

send, send, send

send me a sign,

whisper one word, that fate shall define,

name me obnoxious or color me benign.