Saturday, April 30, 2011

April PoeTree's.

I've found inspiration in crazy places.
Tucked behind corners.
Fallen behind bed frames.
In between couch pillows.
It's all the same to me.
I remember sitting in my 7th grade algebra class
And writing my first poem.
Corny rhymes and short lines,
I needed a way to express the way I felt inside.
I found some in green eyed hues
A muse I held on to for many moons.
I created masterpieces with his prescense.
I wrote pages and pages,
Filling them to the brim with emerald metaphors.
He never did adore them, but nonetheless
They were his.
I found some in my great grandmother.
Though I did not know her well, we shared the same color.
And my favorite scent was her favorite flower.
I found some when I was fifteen.
Silly in love, he filled up my teenage woes
And my naive heartbreak tales all belong to his
Country accent.
I've spent hours scribbling silly words
and making nonsense out of nothing.
But these words are my very existence.
You can trace them down to my very core.
Follow the trail to my heart and you'll find,
Bishop, Dickenson, and Langston's smiles along the way.
I've found love in the stoke of pens hitting
Notebook pages.
Infatuated with similes and metaphors.
And it used to be a hobby; now it's a habit.
Writing down everything that my heart
Feels, and doesn't.
Sometimes they are drunken thoughts;
Most are sober dreams.
But it seems like my relationship with words
Is the only one that has ever lasted.
Love, and passion, and romance seem
To be to far from my reach.
But these words form on the tip of tongue,
Ready to be spit.
There is not room for love here.
Not in these notebooks.
Not in these thoughts.
And I am not sad, nor bitter
About the loss of will that I used to have for love,
For it has only grown my adoration for words even stronger.
Building this garden has not been easy,
But look how my tree's are growing.
The leaves are blooming beautifully,
And I am honored to call them mine.
Stemming from years of heartbreak,
They taught themselves how to grow in the dark.
Yes, even in my darkness days,
My beautiful words were strong.
They held on, even when I couldn't.
And look, as the sun makes is way back,
They are not phased.
And they remind me everyday, that even in
Those places of loneliness, and
Heartache, and neglect, and carelessness,
They will always remain true and faithful.
And I thank you.
I thank the inspiration i've received to make
These words believe in me.
And all I hope, is that I continue growing
Along with these poetrees.

Love, Tianamonique.

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