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.

 

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.

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.

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?

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…

 

 

 

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.

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.

I Wasn’t Always Mute – Personal Poetry Collection

I wrote this as I waited to be reprimanded by the director of my nutrition internship. This whole internship/education thing seemed useless. I felt jaded and incredibly small. I felt dispensable and like a cog in the horribly flawed machine of life. Helpless. That’s how I felt.

October 26, 2018

I Wasn’t Always Mute

My life choices have brought me here,

dreams and hopes so shimmery sheer.

 

Nothing makes sense.

My jaw is tense.

I’m on the fence.

 

Why am I here?

I wanted adventure, excitement.

Now I just repent

that I let myself be sent,

let myself be bent.

Don’t know if I broke…

 

If so, this is a joke!

I’m just some ruined bloke.

Who fought and spit,

but never spoke.

 

That’s all I’ve become:

a spoke.

Instead of a speak.

You are Going to Have to Figure this Out on Your Own – Personal Poetry Collection

Junior year in university when my first romantic relationship was going sour, I wrote this poem reminding myself that I mustn’t rely on anyone but myself. It still rings true today.

April, 5 2017

You are Going to Have to Figure this Out on Your Own

 

On my own,

There is nothing that I own.

 

This is nothing new.

Despite my might,

since I could think, I knew

I am no more than a mite.

 

No one will hear,

or see beyond first sight.

Nothing more for me than here.

Where my words no one will cite.

 

And that is right!

Of the night,

why would one write,

instead of a knight?

 

I am a single cell.

Nothing together to sew.

Nothing to sell

and no will to sow.

 

On my own,

I mourn

there is nothing that I own,

this or any morn’.

Waiting Time – Personal Poetry Collection

Not much is happening this week so, I felt this poem appropriate. Thank high school me for this one again!

February 13, 2013

Waiting Time

 

The waiting time comes around again-

Not in one state or another.

Dread the next phase or calmly

wait. Let go of time. Blank

the mind and stop- wait.

Contemplate. Be

at peace at

last, Just

wait.