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Best Poems Written by Julia Mitchell

Below are the all-time best Julia Mitchell poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Julia Mitchell Poem

Copy Machine

our world is a mystery
a mystery that Sherlock Holmes’s cheeks turn the shade of blood shed in wars when it is mentioned 
because he couldn't solve this case

this mystery is full of variables variables that have feelings
doesn't that make it so much harder?

variables that lie and cheat their way out of being solved
out of being put into a graph
 
variables that are like serial killers
they want to be caught
they want to be solved
they want to proudly show their mothers their work of art

variables that want to believe they are original 
not copies 
not copies that are smeared because the ink is running low

we want to believe that song lyrics are written for us and it is raining for us and these poems are written for us but we are wrong 
we are not selfish.

these variables have a right to believe that these things 
we have a right to hope to be noticed and to not be a copy
but when our voices join together and scream in harmony 
“i am original”
it loses its meaning.

these variables are stubborn.

Details | Julia Mitchell Poem

Metaphors

::
i’ve always wondered about the phrase “my world”
what gives you the right
to claim that i am something
so strong
so defiant
it is not your world,
the world belongs to us all
and we have to take care of it
but more importantly,
i belong to myself,
so i am not your world
or your universe 
or your one and only
and i can take care of myself
how dare you call me
something so beautiful.

::

silly,
you can’t see the universe 
in my eyes
my eyes are blue, i agree,
but they have always been 
my smallest feature.
the universe 
is unimaginably large;
no one has reached its end,
but you claim to have every feature of mine memorized
so you must be wrong.
and don’t forget
we cling to the earth with trust
that it will not choose
to drop us
into the endless abyss around us
and no one could fall in love with me,
for my eyes are eyes
not a universe

::

it was very late
when you said that
my lips were like a black hole
because they pulled you in
and you could never escape
but you must have forgotten
my lips are lips.

Maybe you meant my lips
affected time
like how im always late
for work.
but black holes slow time
which would be helpful
then i wouldn't be late
(so they still couldn't be black holes)
Unless you meant my lips
were infinitely big; wrong, 
but i guess thats flattering.
yet, i still don’t know
how you could get lost 
in my lips
like how i lose my car keys
or my phone
because you know 
where your lips are
and your eyes are just fine
so you can see my lips
see? right here.
i always wear red lipstick so you can remember me,
and they are also not black.
see? now our lips are touching
and it feels nice
there are no sparks, sir,
so tone it down 
with your crazy metaphors
and focus on this kiss
maybe you'll think
it’ll last forever
which would be wrong (again)
but i still love you.
::

Details | Julia Mitchell Poem

Humanity

i want to be something
i want to be original
but not “original”
i have terrible vision
i have my moms toes on the right, and my dads on the left
i am double jointed
i am see by the teacher differently in every class
from quiet as a mouse to complete smart alack 
i love the idea of watercolor
but don’t like painting
my life feels like a run on sentence
But my eyes will worsen with age, originality will become an idea,
my feet wont matter, 
my joints will fail,
i’ll graduate.
there will be a period at the end of my sentence;
what am i waiting for?

i don’t sleep much
i think sunrises are great
late nights are long
im emotional
i write
i draw
i act
just like everyone else

hate is a strong word, 
but not as strong as loathe 
(so we can use hate here)
i hate john greens characters
i hate society
i hate gender roles 
i hate Instagram
i hate living in a world where
blindness and damage is a trait of beauty.

but don’t miss the point just as so many others have
i love humanity
with our freckles 
and desires and tattoos
our dreams 
our cliches and clichés
our pets and cameras
and music and fuzzy carpets
and sports and peoples devotion to them
i am in love with humanity 
maybe one day i will be more content
with mine.

Details | Julia Mitchell Poem

Grey

we see black as a sad color, and white as bright and happy.
but what is grey?
to me
its the in-between, obviously.
its the rope. 
its timid
its the falling asleep at 9:30 pm
and falling asleep at 4 am
its light rain
its jumping in puddles
its coming home and smelling the fire waiting for you 
in the fireplace
it has wisdom
it has been stuck in-between 
the black and white
the right and wrong
the good and bad for a long time
its the soft smile.
its taking yourself out on a date 
its wandering a city alone,
for a purpose
its being alone, but not being lonely
but, it can also be the lump in your throat.
or 5 am, but when you stay up, not wake up
its the sun and the moon trying to catch up to each other
a definition written 
its expecting you to fit into impossible standards like a shoe cinderella’s stepsister’s feet
its a whole generation of cinderellas with no glass slipper.
its a poem with no end.