cretaive writing title
books
Print Friendly and PDF

2011-2012 Poetry

“This Plane”
By JT Mayweathers

I’m preparing for takeoff.
My turbines in effect.
My jets are hot and ready for adventure.
Can’t wait to see the clouds with my name in them.
When I’m gone, you’ll miss this plane.
You’ll say, I can’t believe I missed that flight.
It was the only one that fit me.
It was the only one that took me as is,
Baggage and all.

“Frienemies”
By JT Mayweathers

We share the jungle, your lion to my tiger.
There’s an adverse claw of tension between us masquerading
As a feather of mutual respect.
When our paths cross, there’s a welcoming roar of embrace
That drowns the whisper of repulsion.
We offer to hunt together, but you and I both know
We never will.
When we go to drink from the lake, we spot each other
From opposite ends.
And the water helps reflect our half full affliction and
Our half empty confederacy.

“The Painter”
By Adelina Krayer

The Sun at dawn drips through his studio window.
Drips onto his brushes
Drips onto his canvas,
brilliant, white, and empty.
Then onto cadmium yellow, his unrest.
Cerulean blue, his longing.
Yellow ochre, his disgust.
Alizarin crimson, his passion, his lust
smears off the canvas
on his hands and face like thick blood.
Ultra violet, his deep outer space, his peace.
And titanium white, the gleam in his eyes.
His inspiration, his hope.
To step inside and look within
then to step back and see it before you.
His Dali’s dream.
His Guernica.
The beautiful complications and contradictions
that twist and turn in all of us
On canvas.
Manifested, projected.
Alive

“Lake Days”
By Adelina Krayer

The lazy water on the lake glows,
illuminated.
Turns to gold.
Our boat melts a deep crease in the surface,
leaving behind a liquid comet tail.
No more school for us today.
We inhale and blow thick smoke to the sky.
Giggling and singing,
wringing out our hair
after we dove into secret coves
and were floating on the gold
feeling like infinity.
Watched by woodland creatures,
like Disney stoner princesses.
Back on the boat
beads of water cover our skin like crystals.
Bejeweled Egyptian statues in the sun.
It’s sapphire spring.
Turquoise summer on the way.
We all smile at each other,
knowing but not speaking about
how perfect life is.

“The King”
By James Burton

What wishes shall enchant the ride
When loneliness will subside
Empty Hand extends himself
To fill his clasp with empty wealth

trading spokes on the wheel
Feathers and wings just as real
Skimming waters as not to drown
Subtle jokes as not to frown

Lifting voices praise "amen"
With fury and sorrow to repent
Gaze to look to a day’s new tone
Still with his crown all alone

Nothing shatters this empty heart
Hard as steel and cold in part
Abandoned walls place him in the middle
Floors of gold amount to little

Broken once and bound to see
That there is no hope just misery
Vassals drowned in leaky ships
Escaping the touch of fingertips

Cold sets in and crown weighs heavy
The hourglass prepares its levy
The storm has come and tips the crest
A stone heart still beats no less

Gardens wilted and castle now burns
The twilight hour as regret now churns
For what is agony but love not found
What is a king but a man with a crown.

top