Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

The Secrets I Keep – Personal Poetry Collection

The ironic thing is that I didn’t have secrets back then. I was talking more about keeping secret the fact that I felt sad most of the time and didn’t like to tell other people because I didn’t want to bring the mood down.

 

Spring 2017

The Secrets I Keep

So many cuts on fingers and toes

There is no one who knows

Just like those shows

outside wearing bows

inside reaching new lows

 

Why have foes?

When your flaws stand in rows?

Self goes.

Replaced only by woes

Gathering scraps, she sews

 

No one will ever know.

 

 

.

.

.

Note:

Picture is from Pexel’s Free Photo Library. I liked it because of the expressions “saving face” and “hiding your true self”.

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Sweet Regret – Personal Poetry Collection

HA! A lot has happened since I wrote this. I stand with what I wrote, but good riddance!

 

December 19, 2019

Sweet Regret

I regret nothing.

not the broken heart,

not the shattered psyche,

not the betrayal.

 

I lie, but my name is not Judas.

I fight against this.

 

What I felt was real.

What we can never admit aloud

because I enjoyed it.

 

I would choose it again, but I do regret

the circumstances.

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Still I Wait for You – Personal Poetry Collection

I don’t want to explain this one. Seems obvious.

 

December 12th, 2019

Still I Wait for You

Why did you let me go?

Why did you hold me

if you did not love me so?

 

Still I wait for you.

It’s up to you,

but you don’t love me.

I don’t blame you.

 

I fell for you with a word,

a touch,

a look,

and one afternoon

after countless nights

spent in mutual kindred

yearning for something more.

 

You were already lost

when I found you.

I was already high

when you first picked me up.

 

From the ground you took me,

brushed me off,

shook me down,

and spun me around.

 

You are going to ruin my life

as much as you’ve given me.

 

We are magnets

from the same pole.

I tell myself it would never work

but, even so, my heart continues to lurk.

 

My poor, tired, heart of stone

carved by your hand

and smashed by your words.

 

Soon, you’ll be gone

and I will still believe

for you she is good.

As I fight to reject

that I could have been too.

 

Why did you hold me?

and why did you let go?

if you did not love me so?

 

Still I’ll wait for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note:

Inspiration for the photo: 3AM by Finding Hope (lyrics by Aminium Music)

Posted in Uncategorized

I’m Still Sore – Personal Poetry Collection

Disclaimer: This is an old poem. I found a batch of poems from my last semester in university. I wrote this less than a year after breaking up with someone. It’s the same someone I posted about who isn’t over “the way he made me suffer when we were together” (click here for that post). It’s a year late being published, but I find transformation and change fascinating, so I’m posting it to mark that confusing, but all too real, state I went through post break up.

Appreciate yourselves and know when you deserve better. That’s one of the most important things I learned from that relationship. Sincerely, thank you Jay.

 

 

Spring 2018

I’m Still Sore

What do you want from me?

Isn’t that always the question?

Please don’t hurt me.

I’m still sore from last time.

 

Don’t you see?

I gave you my prime.

I gave you my glee.

Now, I give you my rhyme.

 

Did I want to be free?

or simply flee?

Truth is, I felt like a flea.

I felt that was my fee.

 

So now I plea-

please don’t hurt me.

I’m still sore from last time.

 

You ate my thyme.

Turned me into chyme.

Now I am slime.

But I am no mime!

 

Don’t you see?

I gave you my prime.

I gave you my glee.

Now I give you my rhyme.

 

It is not a crime-

to be.

 

Though I’m still sore from last time,

You will not hurt me.

No more questions.

 

Do what you want, but

not with me.

 

Posted in Uncategorized

Journey through a Meal – Personal Poetry Collection

(Long-ish intro/explanation. Feel free to skip down to the poem below.)

I wrote this as an antsy teen the day I came back from a school trip. My parents rarely let me stay overnight with anyone or for any reason. Miraculously, the exception was the annual state competition with the math team when I was in high school. It was a weekend trip and it was marvelous. The only time I was apart from my family growing up. I love my family, but I’m quite a loner. It was suffocating growing up constantly surrounded by people. Guys. I wasn’t even allowed to close my bedroom door unless I was changing!

Anyway, now, six years later ends my hero’s journey (nerdy literature reference). :/ I’m really glad to go home, but I know myself and I know it won’t last. For the last five years I’ve avoided home. I went to university six hours away by car then to an internship six hours away by plane. For the last five years I’ve only been home during winter and summer breaks, maybe three months out of the year. Now I’m moving back for the foreseeable future. Until I take an exam, get my license to work as a dietitian, and make enough money to move out. Foreseeable future. Probably a year at least. So…. yes. Relatable poem, me from six years ago. :/

The day this was published was also the day I took a plane home from my nutrition internship in Puerto Rico to my home in Texas.

 

May 1, 2013

Journey through a Meal

     The part was decadent

     being set free: incredulous

     Why so much longing? 

    It’s coming back to me.

 

    Cream-filled middle

    sweet but delicate

    All in the moment,

    then, it’s gone.

   It’s coming back to me.

 

   The cream’s gone sour

   feelings of worry and

   absence run through

   Fork set down,

   platter pushed away.

  It’s coming back to me.

 

  Only crumbs and rot left

  nothing to savor.

  Dishes stained

  nothing has changed.

I have come back.

Posted in Uncategorized

Description of a no one – Personal Poetry Collection

(Feel free to skip the intro and get right to the poem below!)

Man… 11th grade. What a sad time. Since then, I’ve learned a lot about myself and who I am (more than I wanted to know in some cases). This year-long nutrition internship has been tremendously trying, but I maintain a shaky self image. Yet, with the graduation ceremony two days after the publishing of this poem, I can’t help but feel how appropriate it is.

Sure, I have a Bachelor’s and an internship under my belt, but before passing that licensure exam I am no one, professionally speaking. I can’t work as a dietitian- the only thing my Bachelor’s degree is good for. Also, like I said the internship really did a number on my self worth which was just barely beginning to improve. :/ Very appropriate poem for my internship graduation. Enjoy?

January 20, 2013

Description of a no one

Who am I? No one important. A no one.

Without interest or passion that consumes me,

I have no worth. I have no love. Am no one.

 

I do not know who I am. I can not see

who I can be or ever was. Absence is

all I feel. There is no hope. There is no key.

 

I know what must be done, but the effort, ’tis

difficult to conjure. I am much too weak.

I do not know who I am, just that I fizz.

 

I am told of my flaws. I am told I’m meek.

I feel unloved, yet do not know what I seek.

Posted in Uncategorized

Trees – Personal Poetry Collection

I’ve learned a lot about people throughout my yearlong internship. Mostly negative things about them and myself. SO, in honor of that, here’s a poem I wrote waaaayyy back in 2012 when I first started my personal poetry collection about how trees are much better than people. I was on to something back then…

 

October 14, 2012

Trees

Grand and majestic,

trees symbolize great power.

Why is this power

so high above us? Is it

because we are so lowly?

Posted in Uncategorized

Reams of Homework – Personal Poetry Collection

Another straightforward poem. This time about how I’m falling asleep while attempting to do homework. Haha, I can be quite melodramatic, huh? More poems and blog posts are on the way, so make sure to come back for those! 🙂 Also, Frankie, my turtle in the picture, is the poster child for how I look trying to stay awake and keep working on this (or any) assignment.

 

Reams of Homework

April 30, 2019

Falling asleep.

I’m in too deep.

Though the truth bit by bit seeps

 

out my mouth,

my eyes,

my hands

 

onto your lap.

Why, I’m a poor sap

who just wants to nap,

 

but instead sits and dreams.

Far away life teems.

Not for me, it seems…

 

 

 

Posted in Uncategorized

Can I be Someone Else, Please? – Personal Poetry Collection

A friend said something. I got upset. That emotion turned its focus on me and these frustrated words of self-hatred resulted. Thought it’d be the appropriate poem for this week as the rotation I’m in is notorious for the dietitians beating down all your self worth and making you feel like you are the scum of the earth. Let’s hope not. I do a great job of that by myself.

March 22, 2019

Can I be Someone Else, Please?

Fuck!

I suck!

It’s not just a rut;

I am shut.

 

Shut, shot, shoot!

Wish I could give myself the boot!

All that I am loot

And live not giving a hoot!

 

Breathe.

Don’t seethe.

All I need

is to be someone else…

 

Geeze!

I’m such a tease!

Not even honestly I can sneeze.

Please!

Rid me of me: my disease.

Posted in Uncategorized

Social Anxiety – Personal Poetry Collection

I wrote this during the last nutrition conference I went to. I felt incredibly awkward and disconnected with the room of dietitians. My fellow interns were socializing and networking with dietitians they’d gone to rotations with while I avoided everyone. It was just me stuck in my head. Instead of socializing, I wrote this.

March 22, 2019

Social Anxiety

The taste of mint

making me sick

It makes me tick

having to pick

yet still getting a kick.

 

Color a bluish tint

I begin to sink.

down I go, plink

thinking I was mink

when I’m not even in the rink.

 

No longer a hint

goes down like buttermilk

thick but smooth like silk

My truth, myself I bilk

as do my ilk

 

Even so, alone I tilt

and quietly I wilt.