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Ilaria Hobbs Poem
My poems don’t really ever rhyme
I’m never good with words
I’ve never studied poetry
or lessons to be learned
But that can’t stop my needing
My desire to be heard
To scream and shout into the void
When my heart feels burned
So instead of rhyming like I am
I only write free verse
And usually my final draft
Is really just my first
I say what comes into my mind
Launch it free like a bird
And pray the words that I set free
Will show me to the world
Copyright © Ilaria Hobbs | Year Posted 2023
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Ilaria Hobbs Poem
It’s satisfying
Red drops spilling onto white tile
Ruining the beautiful innocence of happiness I once had,
stains on the pristine floor of an expensive bathroom in an expensive house
It’s satisfying because it’s damage I did to myself
Because I’m supposed to be expensive too,
perfect, crystal clean white
But this time the red isn’t from ink marking an A+
It’s satisfying because the red on the floor I can clean
I mop it up with toilet paper, press a button and it’s gone down the drain
If no one ever sees, then was it even there at all?
It’s satisfying because it never leaves
Even if I mopped it all up, my skin will never be the same
The lines and marks and imperfections, I’m damaged now
Who wants damaged goods?
It’s no fun to thrift for a new child
It’s satisfying because it leaves me full
Full of shattered glass carving through my lungs
Because I can hear my heartbeat in the burning space the knife ran hours after I folded it closed
It’s satisfying because it leaves me empty
Like I’m caving into my chest cavity
Cold and dark and alone, no matter how hot and full the room
Most of all it’s satisfying because I can’t stop
Because after 8 months
8 months of yoga in the morning
8 months of tea and reading at night
8 months without touching a blade to my skin
I’m right back where I started.
Copyright © Ilaria Hobbs | Year Posted 2023
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Ilaria Hobbs Poem
Media mania floods our screens with state certified hysteria.
Pushing panic to the top so it can reach the most vulnerable area
Every day I open my phone I’m faced with something scarier
They’re raising me for slaughter, grown to pick, agraria.
This burial of free thought is scarier than we thought
Cause they’re teaching us to think not, trying to make us all hot
Under the collar and my mom says
It’s just making my brain rot
And she might be right, I get caught
Up in this tangled knotted
around all my problems
I can’t see past my damned phone screen.
Every day it’s harder to reach the people around me
I thought it was supposed to be
easier with all of this
social technology, but all these fears and problems just keep piling up on me.
Trying to keep us hooked,
Taking advantage of our fears
Maybe I need to take some time to myself?
Read a book, close my ears
DON’T STOP, the algorithm says listen! Cause this “alpha male” says women belong kitchen
And this famous artists ex boyfriend is dissin
And every word I say gives them more ammunition
Look I don’t care!
I just wanna let the world keep spinning!
Spinning? Our world is frying and people are crying, and animals and dying even ones we don’t reap but WAIT!
Don’t go to sleep, I know you want to just keep sinking deep
Down further in the rabbit hole, no escape in sight, protesters and rallies and least someone’s trying to fight but even though they’re trying to shed a light, instead it’s making guilt that’s eating me alive
GOOD! That guilt will keep you here, don’t go outside,
here’s another thing to fear.
We’ll keep you locked up, your own mind is a jail
If they keep us all separated
Of course we’re going to fail
They wriggle inside our minds,
Feast on our insides like Taenia.
But I’m so tired, it’s so easy to sink
Down into this media mania.
Copyright © Ilaria Hobbs | Year Posted 2023
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Ilaria Hobbs Poem
Just like the countdown before Christmas
I’ve experienced these things a hundred times
15, 14, 13, 12, 11,
Giddy bubbles rise through my stomach
at the thought of a movie I’ve seen twice before.
My legs tremble as I walk
the same path I take to school each morning.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6,
Always counting down to moments of bliss.
A thousand flavours in the market,
but all I want to taste is you.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0
And then it starts all over again.
Copyright © Ilaria Hobbs | Year Posted 2023
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Ilaria Hobbs Poem
Hot water feels like heaven rolling down my back
And even in the dead of winter sweet citrus reminds me of the sun
Sweeter still my mama presents me with my favourite snack
My best friend’s phone is always on for me
I know that he always has my back
My icy breaths give thanks to every growing tree
My grandfather’s piano rings with charming sound
Although the nights are long, dark and black
I will always be grateful for these little corners of life that I’ve found
Copyright © Ilaria Hobbs | Year Posted 2023
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Ilaria Hobbs Poem
I want his warmth and broad shoulders,
I’ve cried on them so many times
but tonight I don’t reach out to him
asking to dry my eyes.
I want his bellied laugh,
and the gentle way he breathes
I want his arms around me
as he helps me drift to sleep
I want his playful comments,
cause they’re funny and they’re kind
I want to hear him talk for hours,
to help relax my mind.
I want to eat too many cookies
have some hot chocolate or some tea
I want to build a pillow fort
and watch some dumb movie
I’m not looking for romance,
I don’t want kisses just to spend
a tired night of cuddles
with my closest, dearest friend
Copyright © Ilaria Hobbs | Year Posted 2023
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Ilaria Hobbs Poem
My body is too big
My bones loom over me
and my flesh wraps around them
Heavy like the bricks of a lighthouse tower
The waterfall of my tears posted proudly on a magazine cover
Eighth wonder of the natural world
A thousand miles before it reaches the pillowy ground
My skin stretches over my frame like a canvas
painted with freckles and scars
Enough paint to cover the world twice over is needed to cover it’s expanse
My body lumbers around like I giant when I move
Collapsing in on itself under it’s own weight when I stumble
My souls feels like an ant trapped in the body of a lion
The pins that hold me together are silk needles trying to hold wool
I am a pebble in the body of a mountain, unsure if the wind will whisk me away or if I was ever supposed to move in the first place
I feel bulky and gangly
Shaky and frozen
Filling a room like water fills a cup, cold and loud when all i want is to disappear quietly
Because I feel like my soul could walk through the eye of a sewing needle like a grand palace gate
And whenever my soul feels small
My body is too big
Copyright © Ilaria Hobbs | Year Posted 2023
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Ilaria Hobbs Poem
I’m supposed to be better, find the clouds silver lined. I’m supposed to be helpful and humble and kind.
I’m supposed to be an older sister. Wise beyond my years and smart above my peers. A highschool pioneer who’s dried up all her tears.
My parents say I’m all better, I don’t need to sit on brown leather of that therapist’s couch scars hidden under my sweater
Cause they didn’t see them when they were bright red. From them until now repeating they said
Aren't you all better now?
I think I’ll be better when I’m dead.
And it’s not that I’m not happy, I’m thrilled. When I fly I soar and I’m just filled with this euphoria that can only be felt by a person who thought they’d be killed.
But when that’s all the see, and that is all they see, the happiness that I do have and the potential that I can be, it’s almost like they forget the blood curdling screams the torment and torture that brought me to my knees.
Cause I’m not all better. Sometimes I try in vain to be,
but normally I am mature enough to see, that dispite what they say, and how they try to reinvent me
All I want to be is happy
I’m supposed to be better now, I said that when I fell apart for the third time last week, but weeks turned to months and I thought I was free 'till it all hit again like a tsunami
I’m not all better now.
I’m happier yes, and I feel more free and I promise it’s not like it used to be
But I’m not all better now,
And maybe I’m not supposed to be
Copyright © Ilaria Hobbs | Year Posted 2023
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Ilaria Hobbs Poem
Do you like me?
Honestly,
And I don’t mean romantically.
Cause you say we’re friends
But it feels like
When I walk into a room you leave
And your touching me almost constantly
On days you feel like touch
But you slap my hand and move away
At even just a brush
You squeeze my cheeks
And smack my head
Insult me with a smile
But is it really friendly banter
Or am I just in denial?
Because when we hug
And share music
I feel like I could fly
You truly are my best friend here
Without you I would die
But when you brush me off again
Or randomly start to fight me
I can not stop myself from thinking
Do you even actually like me?
Copyright © Ilaria Hobbs | Year Posted 2023
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Ilaria Hobbs Poem
When I can’t write, I feel a knot in my chest. A building pressure tight like a bullet proof vest and an itching in my hands that just will not rest.
It’s not a lack of paper and pen, I’ll scratch poems onto the walls. Type them on my phone as I walk through the halls, write in blue ink on school bathroom stalls. The problem is a lack of something that calls
to me, not physical things but vocabulary. Cause I can always write, but without soul It just doesn’t sound right.
Words fly away like birds and leap away like bunnies, I’m almost inspired by the way they evade me.
When I can’t write it’s not a thesaurus I turn to. Nor is it a dictionary, because it’s not words that are missing but meaning. A blank sheet of paper like snow, white and gleaming, so much potential I just want to pour myself onto it, bleeding
But the blood does not come. The paper stays white and pristine and unmarked as I claw around in the dark twisting and turning my fingers and pen through the bloody guts of a world of words that I just cannot see within.
The heavy mass in my stomach grows and grows
But the words still won’t flow,
when I can’t write.
Copyright © Ilaria Hobbs | Year Posted 2023
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