Pertaining to the earlier promised stories on Mitsukai. I know I said I’d post all that jazz, but I am lazy. Nonetheless, I will write Mitsukai’s whole story in a series called Genius Academy, that won’t be written til awhile. Still, it’s a good enough excuse to why I haven’t posted anything.
Now, here’s some poetry, since I’m supposed to actually post my writing here.
This piece results from a exercise where we wrote looked at a picture, and wrote about it. I plan on sending the alternate version to a poetry magazine.
~
Now, here’s some poetry, since I’m supposed to actually post my writing here.
This piece results from a exercise where we wrote looked at a picture, and wrote about it. I plan on sending the alternate version to a poetry magazine.
~
Grown Up
The calm
The quite
It was odd
Unknown
It didn’t belong
I stood there
Tousling my long brown hair
Soon they’d be up
Soon there’d be noise
All to common
Seven thirty
It was a time
The world woke up
Siblings, youngest to old
Surround
Clasping my overgrown limbs
Their begging eyes widen
I felt their grumbling
I felt their hunger
Breakfast
Rainbow tinted cereal
Strawberry flavored milk
Down their throats it goes
Then, we clamor into the living room
Brown hue surrounds,
Clashing with the bright toys
The television is turned on
Elmo must talk
Not to loud, moms not up
I feel stressed
I need to move
To be alone
To be young
I’m sick of stress lines
I wanna give up
But mama’s not grown up
I watch the kids
I comb their hair
And pick out their clothes
I pick up the toys
Thrown everywhere
Mom, please grow up
I was at the age of eight
My sister was two
Babysitting its called
Yet, no warning there was
I watched, and waited
I cried, sister did too
Mom was gone
We were curious
That was the first
This wont be the last
Yet, now I watch over three
Though, moms not always gone
Somehow, she’s just not there
A boy once told me
I’d be pretty if
My face wasn’t etched with worry lines
my hair long brown hair wasn’t matted
my mouth corners were upturned
but, I do my sisters hair
I pick out my brothers clothes
I fight with my mother
My siblings smile for me
Our brown hued living room
Filled with laughs and smiles
From ages eight and below
I wish fourteen years olds
Could share in the laughter
My deep brown eyes don’t twinkle
Dark bags continually show
My coco skins pales
No longer gleaming
I was pretty
Now my siblings are
I make it happen
Not my mom
I’m a daughter
She’s the mother
Yet, we live in reverse
