National Poetry Month

In celebration of National Poetry Month, and specifically Poem In Your Pocket day, here are a bunch of my pocket sized poems for you to enjoy and share.

Saw you on the train
Never knew beauty exists
In a lie-filled world. 

Brooklyn grew this tree
Rooted here from foreign fruit
Melting pot for all.

New York state of mind
No one is better than us
Damn! There goes my train.

Snyder chicken rules
Just one bite and you’ll be hooked
Brooklyn’s where it’s at.

She told me it’s done
A new life is on its way
Dreams start and dreams end.

Teacher always screams
All I want is to do well
Hope she understands. 

Mondays are the worst
Many goals I have to reach
Wish Friday was here.

Shared with her a gift
A secret known just to her
Didn’t wrap it cute.

My younger brother
He’s the best at what he does
Snikt! If you oppose.

Light at the end of the tunnel
Opportunity draws near
My way out seems so certain
Finally my train is here.

Be sure to check out my book, Voices within my mind, currently available for purchase. Stay tuned for my first novel later this year!!!

Poetry Dissection: Sorrow

Often, when people read my poetry the first thing that comes to their mind is the inspiration behind the poem. ‘Did this happen to you?’ ‘Is this about (so-and-so)?’ So I figured through this blog, I will pick select poems and give a brief account behind why I wrote it. Who knows how interesting this might get. So, the first poem on the chopping block is Sorrow.

Ok, so during my early college years, you can say I was sort of reckless in some of the relationships I chose to have.  There was this girl who I knew had feelings for me that eclipsed the feelings I had for her.  At the time, I knew the way in which our relationship was going, things were going to end very ugly.  Love, lust, carnal attraction – all are such dangerous things because each cloud your better judgment.  I took the feelings this girl had for me and used them to my own end and it wasn’t until the situation had ended that I looked at myself with shame. I wrote this poem as a way to tell her, I was sorry.  Although I sent the poem, I never heard back from her – which was probably for the best.

So what did I learn?  First off, I was a prick.  Can’t even deny that.  Secondly, saying sorry to someone does not help them.  When you apologize, it is mainly for your own conscious.  I hope when people apologize, they have an understanding about this.  You do wrong, okay.  You apologize, okay.  But expecting the target of your  foulness to be on board with you is also wrong.  I’m glad I was able to come away form that situation a bit wiser in how to treat people and how to expect to be treated.