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[saibot216]

A couple poems I wrote that I was proud of.

"Amechanian's Reign"

Ok, so recently I’ve been having flashbacks to this point early in my life in 2002 when this huge forest fire started when I was living in Colorado and listening to David Bowie’s “The Voyeur of Utter Destruction (As Beauty)” made me want to channel these somewhat repressed memories in a sonnet. I chose a sonnet (but no rhyme) because I want to say a lot with a little and see if the stress can come across.


It started in spring.
We were in a drought,
under a water
conservation law.
 
I saw the earth change.
The skies went yellow,
while the ground turned black.
The smell of burnt leaves
so strong and so close,
but the fire was far.
Swallowing half the
state, while we lived in
a constant fear of
evacuation.

"Natural Habitat"
Started writing poetry in creative writing and everyone seemed to love my poem. This is a very weird piece coming from me, someone who gravitates towards concrete, but I just had the inspiration and the words in my head so I figured why not write it.

Highway rivers lead to the jungle
where inhabitants live in brick
and mortar trees with aerial canopies.
Habitats get built day in day out
the sound of buzz saws and hammers fill
the shrub level that reeks of auto fumes.
With or without the sun
the jungle is bathed in neon lights
of ROY G BIV.
Power failure leads to insanity
and hopeless feelings. Sleepless
dwellers wander the dark forest floor
with sights of neon tracers.
This is the human’s natural habitat.

[saibot216]

"A Rose For No One"

She carries a rose
waiting for the bus,
hoping he’ll return.
Before that they were
something. An item.
She remembered him
and the fun they had.

She takes a gander
at the schedule.
His bus should be here,
She grows impatient.
The bus stops, but he
never showed his face.
The rose hits the ground.

----

"Café"

The center of the café has a circle of chandeliers,
the tables create another circle around that.
The dim green walls express a floral pattern
and below that there’s simple dark green woodwork,
the two separated by a thick golden border made
of plant designs and human figures.

The café is filled with talking that blurs together
in a loud drone along with
the occasional whine of a chair moving.
A cart runs through the room
with a loud percussive rhythm.
The distinct crackling of a
food wrapper makes an appearance.

A woman reads a magazine while she eats.
Not even looking at what is going into her mouth,
only focused on the latest tabloids.
A couple opposite her eats in silence.
The tension between them is no secret,
they have nothing to talk about,
not even how delicious their food is.
One group of women lean towards the center
of the table as they talk, their table covered
in food refuse.

----


"David"

We would speak daily
for hours on end.
We’d lift each other up
when others brought us down.
I would send you my music
and you would send me yours.
We were Valentines.

You began having troubles
That made you so weak.
You told me it would be awhile before
we would speak again.
Then you went under the knife
as the doctors went to fix
what was causing you pain.

Time passed
And I had not heard
from you.
Your friend told me
what had happened.
You came out in critical condition
and you lost your memories
from the past four years
leaving you in a dark place.
The wounds of your past
becoming fresh again
and us?

You have no idea
who I am.
The moments we shared
only exist in my mind now.