Some Poems by Mom

Hiiiii I wrote some poems. The topic was supposed to be summer.

I don't need serious feedback on these in particular, but I would really appreciate some feedback on them just to improve my general poetry writing.

1.) What did you like/dislike?

2.) Which lines or phrases stood out to you? Why? What seemed awkward or confusing?

3.) Did you notice any symbolism? (Don't worry if you don't.)

4.) When does school start for ya?

5.) What do you usually eat for breakfast when you're at home?


Waking Thoughts of Summer

I thought this might be insanity, 

this state in which I am floating above the clouds.

I thought I might sing out my window

let the fields tell me what I need

in rainsoaked,

hackneyed verse.

I thought I might skin my knees today,

and then maybe you would love me more.

I thought I might tear the books apart

so that I could reorder their pages

into something that doesn’t make me cry.

This I thought I might do

in a room with transparent walls

so that you would have to watch.

I thought I might kidnap the sun

so that I could make her turn her back to me;

I am so tired

of this nauseous brightness.

Some June mornings,

my dreams continue after I wake up.

They writhe in my shadow all day.

This waking sleepfulness won’t stop.

I thought I might sleep until the leaves fall,

but you took my hand and led me to an empty field.

I thought I might drown in the stream there,

but you found a four-leaf clover,

doused my fingertips in the soft touches of tall grass,

and reminded me that summer only lasts so long.

After you caught me trying to cook summer

There is chocolate on my feet. Cinnamon

in my hair. Vanilla between my fingers.

I don’t need sugar when I’m around you;

I just appreciate it more.

This August sun has melted the chocolate in my soul;

I am drained of it.

We used to say,

“Chocolate fixes everything.”

But do not be trapped,

don’t mix yourself into my recipe.

I want you to run, take the wind for a walk my darling,

I know how to deal with my own despair.

There is cinnamon in my hair and I can’t wash it out.

Rain doesn’t help, nor do tears,

and we’re out of vanilla.

Take me to the edge of the bridge

and hold my hand while I look down

and think what it would feel like to jump.

This will make me all the more sure

that I don’t want to jump,

because I want you, all of you darling,

spreading like syrup around me; hold me

until the walls break.

The windows cut maps into your shoulders

when they break from your flailing arms.

I will trace the maps

with cinnamon fingers,

and find my way to you with a blue pen.

The scars from the broken glass will heal,

but that blue route will stay inked on you forever.

In the mornings, I’ll sing out an open window,

but the birds and the neighbors will be deaf to my call.

When the door closes on your arrival,

you will stretch a chocolate smile.

Summer will have passed, and the sun

will be too far away to melt it.

You will hold my lungs open for breath,

and pluck my vocal chords

into the kind of love song no one can ignore.