Garden Of Chives

This poem is dark. I got inspired to write it after watching The Wire. If you haven't watched this series- watch it! Every season touched upon something different whether it was the drug dealers, the school system, the longshoremen, the media, the politicians, or the city government in Baltimore, Maryland. This poem was inspired by the season that focused on the drug dealers and drug addicts of West Baltimore.

Garden of Chives

The stick of happiness burrows into my skin.
It tears next to the freckle that
My mother would always kiss.
It tears into the purple vein that pulses
From excitement.
Happiness is injected into the purple pulsing passageway
And I'm gone.
But back.
Back to the small garden full of chives.
I can almost feel the onion taste in my mouth.
I run back to my mother
As she embraces my small body and the scent.
She doesn’t get mad at me for eating the garden of chives.
Then I finish the ride of my high and I'm back.
Back to the empty redbrick row house staring at the
Plywood that’s used as my door.
The tiny hole in the middle reveals a garden of
Junkies, crimes, prostitutes.
No chives.

Some Sinatra Inspiration

Here's another flash fiction piece I wrote. This was inspired from a black and white photo too.

Here's the inspiration...

I love Sinatra! Such a great photo

N.d. Photograph. The Smoking Gun. Dec. 2012. Web. 27 July 2012. <http://www.thesmokinggun.com/mugshots/celebrity/music/frank-sinatra>.

And this is what I ended up with...

The AC was on full blast and it hit his sun-scorched face as they opened the door. The room he was led to was even colder. The ancient camera was mounted on the white wall. His clothes matched the peeling wallpaper around him- tattered and drained of color. The smell of three nights of drinking dripped out of him. He stood facing the camera as the photo that would forever capture the pitfall of his life flashed before his blood shot eyes. 

Sweltering Summer Day

I experimented with some flash fiction. I got my inspiration from some black and white photography I googled.

Here's the picture that inspired me...

This is what I ended up with...

It had been a sweltering summer day and the evening cooled the earth. The sun was setting on the waves and the hood of the 1960 powder blue Ford thunderbird. All the windows were down and time didn't matter. His titillating cologne had reached her sticky seat and planted itself in her black hair as the breeze blew in from the West. Her blue dress stuck to her for a brief moment then released, going back to its normal shape. When the wind stopped she slid with ease to close the space between them and dissolve the smell of the ocean by breathing in his thin white t-shirt.

Blue Warmth

Instantly there's a calmness that runs through me that I can feel throughout my body,

Like taking a shot of Jameson's.

It's shoving my body off my feet.

Can't get up. Don’t want to.

This blue warmth has encased my body.

I pull more of that warmth over my head and disappear.

The heat radiates off my body and bounces off the blackness.

Underneath, the mattress forms to my shape.

I peek out.

Looking towards that red sand stained rock that lies beside my bed.

I close my eyes and

I hide again when I remember.

Remember getting on the plane that flew me back to reality.

And the plane that flew him to a War that shouldn’t be fought.

The thought makes me want to turn off my brain.

Just for a few hours.

Instead I stretch, covering every inch of the mattress until

Blackness falls over me and I fly back to where I found the red sand stained slab of Earth.

Serenity

My boyfriend is a Marine and he just came back from his second deployment. Some poems I will be posting are about him when he was away. Writing helped me a lot through his deployment. When I wasn't able to talk to him- I wrote. I wrote this poem from his point of view as a Marine...

Serenity

What day is it?

It doesn't matter.

When the days get longer

That's when I'll know.

When the days get longer

I leave this sandbox.

Till then I rest. I patrol. I post. I wait.

I wait for my friends

To come out and play.

I wait with my SAW.

Safety- off.

Straining my eyes

To see an end

But its just endless sand.

A beach with no water.

Ripples in the sand

Come into view and then

Vanish.

I'm still here.

Undisturbed.

Each new ripple is different.

Ever changing patterns.

One minute- there.

Next minute- gone.

Sounds all too familiar.

A lot of men, a lot of friends

Have been that ripple.

Here one minute,

Gone the next.

It's All On The Table

The table knew Pa and George,

I never did.

The table knew my father, John, when he was called Johnny,

I never did.

The four-legged metal table was cold except when the clock made it to 5:00 am and 5:00pm.

Its curved edges were inviting.

I learned not to stick purple flowers in a light socket with this table.

I inspected a bee with my mother with this table.

I learned how to push my food around my plate to make it look like I ate more than I did with this table.

Only two more bites.

I learned that life could change in a split second by picking up a ringing phone.

She has cancer.

What's cancer?

She will get through this.

Nope.

Fold up that table we are moving away.

Pen and Paper to ....blog

I love reading and writing. I try to write everyday and this blog will be where I put it. My writing is going through my pen and paper to this blog. Hope you guys enjoy it :)