it’s my birthday,
which already feels special
but also
may the fourth
so it’s like
the universe remembered me
like
“may the force be with you”
just for me
and yeah,
maybe that’s a little dramatic
but i like knowing
i’m that important
and somehow,
that makes it
my favorite day!
Oh, I turned seventeen
burning my dreams into a smoke-stained hue.
I miss that life without screams,
a life made only of soft, gentle dreams.
Once, colourful ponies wandered and flew,
kissing the moon with sparkles beneath them.
How I ache for that world to return
but time does not remould,
it only burns bridges.
Now the dreams are black,
colours and joy misplaced somewhere
in the endless search for “something better.”
The ponies have turned into bears,
and laughter has dissolved into silent tears.
Yet still, I would choose that bear,
draped in a sparkly dress to shield my skin,
guarding myself from demons
that once looked like angels
the ones I once invited into my dreams.
Now the dreams lie buried somewhere
under piles of books.
The writers have lost their words,
the dancers their movement,
the guitarists their strings,
the singers have swallowed their voices.
They tell us to stay numb
because we dream too much.
Then they tell us to dream more.
But who will tell them—
it’s not that we stopped dreaming,
it’s that the dreams
have turned into nightmares.
Is this how I was?
Wrapped with the softest blanket,
Shown the highest quality of affection,
I’m sure this is how I was.
All I remember is being fed,
But suddenly it’s been done by me.
I’ve gradually been strengthened,
Even kisses aren’t given anymore.
I remember I didn’t know no pain,
But it didn’t stay the same.
With every step at a new age,
Teaches me how to be tough.
Now I’m at the edge of seventeen,
About to enter adulthood.
Now that wealth glitters and hypnotizes my young eyes,
I’m now preparing for this wild-goose chase.
This goose I’ll catch,
Putting smile on the face of the one who held me, the one trained me for this journey.
This goose I’ll catch,
Shaming those who said I won’t.
Blossom Monyei.
Has syllable limit
About nature
Inspires
Known form
Unique end
with apologies to Poe and Baum
Seventeen feathers*
is all that I need
to become a raven
instead of a crow.
A raven is majestic,
a crow just a crow~
they invade the cornfield
just to spite the scarecrow,
who cries out in despair:
it's a murder I fear,
please have a heart!
* The large primary flight feathers on the wing are called pinions; Ravens have 17 pinions while Crows have 16.
When I was 17
I believed grief wore the face of death.
I thought it would come with wailing,
With wet cheeks and broken things.
But when it came,
It made no sound.
No storm,
No crash,
No fire.
It came like dust,
Settling in my chest,
In the hollow between my breaths,
In the quiet ache beneath my skin.
It took me to the floor,
And the floor didn’t mind.
It held me like it knew
What it meant to be quiet,
Still,
And tired
Of carrying things with no name,
No one to hold onto,
No one to blame.
There, in the hush,
I learned what silence knew
How something light as air
Can still
Crush you through and through.
They called it growing up
But I have my doubts.
It felt like learning to live
With things you can’t shout.
No bruises, no blame,
Just silence stretched out.
She's only seventeen
Eyes of warm blue ice…
a sky with clouds of pearl
Kindness peeks out,
empathy for the whole world
Ebony lashes, concealing,
revealing, in a graceful fan
Flickering glimpses of
this strong woman within
Youth plumps and smooths
dandelion dusted skin,
That only glows a golden bronze
when the sun's shinin’.
Hair, a long and straight
arrow down her back
Sometimes it's a rich brown,
sometimes blue, or black
Not interested in pink satin
or frilly, white lace
But she loves to have shiny jewels
to decorate her face
Inside this stunning shell,
behind all the bling,
Lies a mind full of deep thoughts,
a heart that's known pain
Yet she laughs without boundaries,
she will always dance in the rain
My heart and soul, my beloved,
She's only seventeen.
She was bumfuzzled in many ways
Where had her dog been all those days?
He came home with seventeen puppies to play
And a wife, courtesy, of her neighbor Shay
Feeling romantic; in this seat of seventeen stories
This far up, I plainly see the wind beneath the bushes and trees
So tell me, Angel, in front of me, is this your view of our glories?
Did this experience give you peace enough to please?
Or was I boring to you with my thoughts, deep interrogatories?
When I enjoy the best of my life, from a bended pair of knees
It's because the weight is so great of our inventories
There is no scale I know of that measures to their degrees
But oh, the heat that is produced by such fabled stories
Rivaling a summer tradewinds warmest breeze
In this moment, I stand tall,
Grateful for each rise and fall.
Life's journey, a gift to unwrap,
A joyous clap, life beautifully sews.
With each year, wisdom grows,
Embracing laughter, shedding tears,
A dance of hopes, conquering fears.
So here's to another year to share,
To cherish moments, love to declare.
On this birthday, in a world so grand,
I'll celebrate and take a stand.
For the beauty of life, in every way,
Thank you, Lord, for this special day.
With gratitude and a heart that's light,
I welcome this year, shining bright.
ms dorothy was squatting at 17
We did not mind
We were doing our own squatting at 19
It was a good day to take up residence
We watched her move in
Glad she had found her own place
The drug dealers might scare her off later
But for right now, on this beautiful day
She had a place
We applauded her for it
My husband said he was going to marry me in 1957.
I was five and angry in every direction when he announced this.
At five, I was not marrying anybody but Daddy.
Certainly not this creepy kid.
We became best friends in 1966. We were both sixteen.
Other kids parked and necked. We parked and made fun of them.
We did not get married until we were old for our town – nineteen.
Most get married at eighteen, so I felt like an “old maid”.
We dated for four years and have been married for fifty-one.
This brings us to our current position – three children, ten grandchildren.
I still see my husband as seventeen and he sees me as fifteen.
Remember when you danced on the hood of my car? I sure do!
If you’re seeing something wonderful in someone?
Don’t let them go without knowing ..
Last year 17.6 million cars were sold world-wide
That's a record, blows my mind but we take it in stride
That doesn't include
Ones already in use
Makers are all giggling as to their mansions they ride
There once was an old man who had seventeen camels.
He also had three sons.
His time was growing short,
So the old man drew up his will.
“I leave half my herd to my eldest son, whom I love.
I then leave a third of my herd to my second son,
Whom I also love.
To my youngest son, who was always a scoundrel,
I leave one ninth of my herd.”
The sons fell to arguing.
Their fighting was intense.
They could not obey their father’s will.
Seventeen camels won’t divide evenly by two,
Or by three, or by nine.
How could they honor their dear father’s wishes?
The three sons went to see a wise old woman in their village.
She thought about their problem for a long while.
She said, “I don’t know if I can help you,
But, if you want, you can have my camel too.”
The eldest son took nine camels,
Half of the herd of eighteen,
And departed.
The second son took six camels,
One third of the herd,
And departed.
The youngest son saw that three camels were left.
“I am only entitled to one ninth of my father’s herd…
Two camels.”
The youngest son recognized the wisdom of the old woman.
He returned her camel to her,
And departed the village in peace.
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