Poem: My Mirrored Reflection
Poem: The Scent of My Father
Poem: To be a Dandelion in a Field of Bindweed
Slam Poem: Yukon's Cherry Coke Phobia Experiment
Slam Poem: 13 Steps to Successfully Kidnap Someone
Group Poem: Melting Into Beauty
Screenplay: The Junebugs' Night Out
MY MIRRORED REFLECTION
I do not want to look into a reflective surface.
For I know that I’ll see all of the things I hate most about myself.
My confidence, a small wisp of smoke that can be blown away.
By just a glance, glass can become my worst nightmare.
The squint in my left eye, the crooked edge of my smile.
It all makes me feel smaller than I actually am.
So I stay away, just so I don’t see what I might fear.
Flaws are all I know of my appearance, but I don’t let it show.
I love myself all the same and won’t let anyone change that.
I keep my head high and pointed towards the stars.
Wishing I was one, just so I didn’t have to worry about things.
Reflections show the person that bears all of my insecurities.
Just staring back without a word to me or anyone else.
In a silent mock, they watch me with blank eyes.
Scanning over my flaws and realizing they have them as well.
THE SCENT OF MY FATHER
The delicious aroma of the kitchen was ruined by cigarette smoke. Though ruined wasn’t a word to describe how it gave me a certain feeling. A feeling of what my life was like as a child, until before my teen years. How innocent my life had seemed at the time, and how it truly looks now. A ripped up piece of fabric, patched up with uneven threads and small bits starting to wear. My father was the one who was tied to the memory of such a faint thing known as my childhood.
Cigarette smoke was all I had known of him when I couldn’t even speak, and it is all I know of him now. His problem is better, but every time I am near the scent, my life is played in reverse. Reminding me of all the good memories and thoughts I feel towards him. Speaking softly to me like a lullaby, I will always find comfort in the subtle but powerful scent of my father.
Trapping me in its embrace and never letting go, I go limp as it takes hold of my thoughts, respinning my world as it used to be. For I think nothing better of my sweet father everytime I smell the aroma that engulfs my childhood like the tight hugs he gives me.
TO BE A DANDELION IN A FIELD OF BINDWEED
Sometimes, I feel different than others around me.
How my yellow fluff doesn’t match their light pink petals.
I stand high above the rest of them, but wilt under their disapproval.
They make me believe I am loved and I belong.
Deep down I know, they don’t feel how they say they do.
My prickly leaves cover up their soft ones.
My roots outgrow theirs and tangle uncontrollably.
They will outlive me and I will not be missed.
After all, they are the flower and I’m the weed.
Growing quickly and dying just as fast.
Unlike them though, my death will result in more of me.
My yellow will turn to white and the wind will carry me to new places.
I will then be allowed to explore and spread.
And the cycle will repeat, never ending.
I will find new areas where I don’t belong.
But they can’t stop me from being me.
For it is in my nature to spread and never stop.