Poetry

Original Poetry: There is more than one b/c this is also my genre assignment:         

                      Silver Lake

Laying on the grass on a slight hill

Laying our exhausted lungs on damp towels and damp hair

Feeling the sun on our eyelids

Listening to our favorite song

Feeling ugly that day, left us

Wearing floral dresses, makeup, and toothpaste

Soaking sun, soft curls, big smiles and warm laughs

Looking at the sky

Wondering if we could actually count every beautiful thing we can see

Wishing I could take this moment and add it to my blood, so it could stay

Circulating through my brain, and my through my heart every once in a while.

Blocking the thoughts of summer ending from leaking in

Dismissing that idea that the more we find ourselves

Laughing, the more we see each other

Smiling, the harder we will soon be

Missing, and the harder it will be to miss

Looking up at our element, the one

Carrying the music through the itself and above the leaves, the one

Drifting our last couple cares away with the waves of the silver lake we had been

Calling our home

Where the Heart Is

There is a guitar right inside the door

A time capsule, some chairs, a fire place.

And so many clothes you can not see floor

But there is more than just that in this space.

Graffiti covers every surface there

Nutella and Ginger Ale in the fridge,

No other place can quite compare,

I could not pick a more perfect cottage.

Seven beds which we lay upon at night,

But there are more than just things in this room,

Where everything just seems to feel all right

Some love, peace and happiness they loom

Memories that were sure will never stray,

This is our place, our loving hide away.​

TicTacs

He had nicknames for us all

He exampled “cruel and unusual punishment” by showing us a picture of the teacher from across the hall.

He said we found our clothes in the dumpster if we were wearing red sox gear.

He was my favorite, never replaced through every year.

He always ate tic tacs, the light minty green.

And every once in a while, this became a scene:

As soon as we heard those tic tacs rattle

We'd start a familiar battle.

Mainly just for fun…

“Mr. Diglio, can I have one?”

We knew we were in for it

A monstrous display of yells and spit

As the teacher asks, “You want one?”

We were ready some fun

He takes the tics takes out of his mouth

And from there it just goes south

The spitty tic tacs being handed to you

Another wave of laugher comes through

And the tic tacs, that view

And, ugh, no, there’s two

They’re close enough to chew

Some bite marks in view

You know what to do

To make the slimy things go askew

And finally you choose

To no longer pursue

“NEVERMIND!”

Never did anyone get one

It was just all for fun

Mr. Diglio knew,

His wallet would be through

If he gave one to you

A wave of unfairness would fall through

But that St. Patrick’s day

I didn’t have much to say.

My bunny had passed

And that day in class

We had conferences one on one

With the teacher known for his fun

I couldn’t really talk

My throat felt like chalk

I wanted to burst out in tears

And talking brought them near

I was nervous to crack

But couldn’t hold back

When I saw on my desk:

A small green tic tac.