Best Persists Poems
It has been a century and a half since emancipation.
However, stubbornly persisting is racial discrimination.
Despite many anti-discrimination laws today,
people are still breaking and ignoring them anyway.
Racists from all over are continuing to disobey.
The situation is just too perplexing to me.
Why can't we ever learn to live in harmony?
inspired by another member's poem
And the pity’s infected their whispers.
And the advice arrives in the mail.
No return addresses;
No self-revelations.
There are so many smiles,
I could wallpaper the sky.
I could trade introspection for consolation.
The carolers stopped singing
outside my door
in favor of mingling with a couple
who’ve inferred my reality.
I’ve passed by and only nodded
to their whispers drowned out
by keys in the locks.
Outside my aperture, the storm is lashing hard,
I preserve my story, while you've held discard.
Mists are drifting in; an extra cyclone is tackling,
I'm contemplating in distress, in serenity feeling.
If you were shrunk to the size of a drop of water,
And even if you grow mysterious, you have won.
Consider the colors in the azure sky after a twister,
Rainbows need dim, therefore let us trial a hot tone!
At the age of six, you shall be impartial at forgiving,
You are insensible to your charming environment.
There will be no grasp on how we talk or behaving,
At 16 years of age shall be overwhelmed, yet virulent.
Those we don't recall eagerly follow random people
At the time, you utterly disregard their specific advice.
At 30 years of age, we will willingly enter a state bribeable,
After, we shall be plagued with genuine fears that entice.
We will figure out the most to be flawless in every way,
In our looks, at work, and in other aspects of our life.
We'll pit ourselves to them in a competition array,
It is more critical than ever to reap authentic strife.
Your encounters in life abilities and uniqueness,
Will define you as a person, not your outward scoops.
Foster a confident attitude throughout your happiness,
Convince and motivate your friends and family groups.
Written: April 29, 2022
Our summer fellowships are over! We learned a lot - for instance - how summer’s a lot less fun when you’re hemmed-up, inside working. I mean, we preesh’d the clinical experience, the learning, and especially how good these fellowships will look on our med-school applications - seriously - but there were a hundred rules - aren’t rules incompatible with summer?
Hmm, Ok, let’s see, something poetic..
As the summer sun's blistering radiance waned, shadows,
muscled by sunrays to the marginal edges and corners,
gradually spread, like water - soothing, lenifying and assuaging
simmered nerves with their refreshing, canopied touch.
If sunlight scorched with heat, twilight soothed and gentled,
while varnishing, the dimming world with rainbow, event-horizons,
larger, more inventive, colorful and glorious than any mere mortal art.
Night gradually squeezed, unseen, through those vivid sunset cracks,
and refreshing night-air, drawn in by the last, escaping updrafts of heat,
rustled cooling relief to weary workers seeking the solace of evening and home.
back to unpoetic realities..
When work was finished, we’d retreat from the heat, racing up to the rooftop pool, like two happy porpoises out of school.
Whoever invented poolside food delivery, should win the Nobel Prize for ‘thank you very much.’ We wouldn’t go back to our rooms until it was dark and we’d started to prune.
Now, we’ve a month to relax before our Junior year begins. We got letters from Yale that said, “As upperclassmen..” “Upperclassmen!” We shouted as we danced in hand-holding circles, singing, “Upperclassmen, upperclassmen, upperclassmen, upperclassmen. upperclassmen.”
We’ve grown so much at Yale.
In my dreams
I am small
Flowers budding
Behind deaf ears
When I leave you
Inevitable in its longing
I wish to be
A grain of sand
In your hurricane
A leaf in your jungle
Hiding ripe fruit
Red as my tongue
Beneath low fronds.
There is nothing left here, only time persists
You and I don’t belong there,
we were not there to witness
I wish I would let you be free
I wish you a sound sleep for tomorrow
And I kiss you, goodbye
Where you will pick up your bundle of peace.
There is nothing left here, only time persists
We are nomads here, traveler for an hour
And we tie with our smell and taste
Our joy, happiness, and also our lust.
I wish you farewell, my dreamy night!
And I have your silence within my soul
Where you will come home after many...many days.
Precious paranoia persists
My mind is anxious
To die at this point in time
I have seven kills
While you own none
Yet my run from you is rampant
Though you’re up in your room
Uninterested
R-emembered
O-ld
C-ollections
E-ndure
L-ong
Y-ears,
N-eeding
N-o
A-lternate
T-o
I-nner
V-isions
I-n
D-ays
A-lready
D-eparted
©bfa061825
Monocrostic (Birthday of Rocelyn D. Natividad)