Details |
Elise Edmonds Poem
i will write haiku
so that my big feelings don’t
take up too much room
i know well enough
silence wields no rejection
so i stay silent.
the feminine urge
to scream like a wounded beast
but i just say no.
i am seventeen
my mere age is poetic
just like a haiku
to be six again
is what the sky hears when i
wish upon the stars
i sleep and i dream
so many things left unsaid.
in sleep, we made peace
solitude my friend,
would you tell me if I was
meant to be in love?
love me tenderly
i asked, instead you left me
tender like a bruise
you were the wrong one
to give all my love to but
maybe you need it.
oh give me guidance
what do i do with this heart
that just falls apart.
god, when did i start
writing poetry like this
about you again?
Copyright © elise edmonds | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Elise Edmonds Poem
lover of moon
lover of stars
lover of mirrorballs
lover of early autumn mushrooms
lover of bitter first frost
lover of sequins
lover of full moons
lover of folk
and true to the soul lyrics
lover of the quiet
and the absence of anyone
lover of ribbon bows
lover of corduroy and linen
lover of mowed grass
and the melancholy of family summer evenings
of her youth
lover of her childhood house
despite the worn walls
and the leaky heat
lover of the first place she called home
before she could say the word home
lover of evenings
and warmly lit late mornings
lover of disobeying bedtime
lover of sweet scented lip balm
lover of excessive pillow arrangements
lover of voices that feel like home
and lover of songs with the same feeling
lover of wordless company
lover of cooled skin
lover of thumb in her mouth
lover of steamy bathrooms
and the smell of clean body
lover of the french language
and secret lover of cigarettes
in a french way, only
lover of live music
but also the sound of nothing
lover of her moonlit bedroom
lover of infant animals
lover of dim light,
preferably by candle
lover of rain, lover of rain,
lover of storms
and wild weather from the comfort of her bedroom
lover of japanese jazz
lover of quilts
lover of the tendermost, sensitive life
ad lover of being a lover
Copyright © elise edmonds | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Elise Edmonds Poem
growing pains...
and so she grew,
because that’s what we all do.
she reminded herself that
her body
is her vessel.
it does more than just
exist
for a compliment,
for a boy,
for a mirror
or for a photo.
she told herself that her size,
and the tightness of her clothes
were not indicators of failure.
the fullness of her belly,
would never determine her worth
she found comfort in words like these.
yet she never,
not once
had to self assure
when her pants hung loose
or her stomach yearned for food,
when her waist curved inwards rather than out
not once,
not ever.
Copyright © elise edmonds | Year Posted 2023
|