Loneliness. Poems

Bugs And Me

Weird beetles with stripes. 
Spiders puffed up. 
In the kitchen. 
Insects. 

Ladybugs don’t usually do much. 
Except enjoy the cookies in the pantry. 
I don’t know if it’s my imagination. 
But spiderwebs are breathing. 

Surrounded by these bugs. 
While making pastries in my kitchen. 
Go the living room. 
Where grasshoppers live too. 

The bedroom is

This is not a poem

It's a cry for attention
it's as loud as loud can be
~ how many ways to ask



Wordku: 5-7-5 words

As We Walk By

cardboard mattress 
concrete box spring

cocooned within the threads of shame

pillow stained 
with dried tears of despair

air pockets 
hover with a pungent force

that’s the way I remember her bed—
as I walk by.

Lover's heartbreak

All I have left of you is this kiss ?? 
And it wasn't even on my lips
It's just a reminder of how I fell out of love
And I'm left sitting here wondering 

The first week I'd just stand by the shower
And the water full throttle would have at me
It'd be cold but I'd stand there

Sarah

   She had a loud laugh,
   Nervous smile on her wide flat face.
   Jittery body never staying in place.
   Liked to engage with women who were near.
   Seeking connection in the gym where she played.
   Always knew when she was here.
  

The Last Indulgence, Or Maybe The First?

I butter the toast as if it were a pardon,
its crust breaking under my knife
like a sealed envelope.

The coffee is bitter ink,
a confession cooling in its cup.
I swallow it fast,
as if speed could trick the executioner.

When I buy myself flowers
I imagine them lining a witness box:
petals trembling,
each one swearing I once existed.

I take long baths,
the

Deserted

Deserted; you have left me 
wandering alone, only my mind 
to accompany my sad song. 
I sing it to an audience of one; 
myself. 

Confused; I remain lost, 
you say you love me, 
yet you refuse to speak 
the language of both 
our hearts. 

Waiting; my passion pleads 
to be expressed in its fullness, 
with

1st place winner of My Song 2

By Rowena Velasco

The Masses

We lead lives of unfulfillment.
All for nothing, our time is spent.
We just live, from day to day,
To support the government.

We are born, and then we die,
No one ever stays.
Our lives are full of emptiness
In, oh, so many ways.

We behave in regular patterns,
Everyone acts the same.
We exist in a world-wide crowd
Where no one has a name.

We

Lover Grandpa

There once was a lonely old poet,
Who wooed women with verses so know-it,
They’d smile and then say,
“You’re charming, dear ye,
But grandpa’s more apt—still, he’ll still show it.”

Second Hand Goods

She was worn and weathered, but still such a comfy fit
Had done her time; yet still was full of spit and grit

Hanging on a rail now, waiting on finding a new owner 
With a sadness as her last owner had now disowned her

Rummaging hands maul at her to see if she still has appeal
Reduced in

the missing piece

how do people carry on after loss?
it doesn't matter what type of loss
a person, a relationship, a friendship
a sport, a job, an animal
it's never been any easier
i've felt more types of loss than some can imagine
and yet they all hurt equally
in their own ways
maybe my brain is the problem
it can't tell the difference 
between a

No one tells you

No one tells you how to smile when your throat closes with every breath behind that smile.

No one tells you how to move forward when the chain around your neck drags you back.

No one tells you how to be positive when your own mind digs into you with horns and a tail.

No one tells you

this isn't actually about flowers

i'm a small flower
a seed gifted to you by the universe 
meant to grow under your care
flourish
people don't like getting seeds
they don't want to plant them
to care for them
to be responsible 
they'd rather have a fully grown flower
no work, easy
put water in a vase, leave it to wilt
slowly watching it die
only watching 
not interacting
as life

donation

i'm a shirt in the depths of your closet 
shoved      so                   far                    

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