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Best Poems Written by Courtney Ivie

Below are the all-time best Courtney Ivie poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Courtney Ivie Poem

Underneath

Against the wall I was his devi
Pressed tight beside his soul
Skin so hot it burned through mine like a fever
Warming my muscles
Warming my pulse
Fueling my movement
Touching my body he was my sher
Braving my imperfections 
Lips so thirsty they tasted mine with frenzy
Spinning my thoughts
Spinning my surroundings
Driving my feelings
It was…
Underneath the materialistic piles
Cotton, polyester, and satin
He saw my secret nature
Underneath my pigmented eyes
Crushed Lala and gloomy brown
He saw my Élan vital
Underneath my damaged Pericardium
He found my beating heart.

Copyright © Courtney Ivie | Year Posted 2014



Details | Courtney Ivie Poem

Indian Palaces and Long Lost Paintings

The ocean keeps us apart
Like shackles tying us to the Earth
They cannot bind us forever,

Sweetheart,
Close your eyes... can you see me?
Hold out your hand... can you feel me?
When you part your lips... can you taste me?

Sweetheart,
In my head the science is simple
What are the coordinates? ...Here.
And the time? ...Now.

The ocean keeps us apart
But under the stars we remain together.

1.30.2013

Copyright © Courtney Ivie | Year Posted 2013

Details | Courtney Ivie Poem

Scraped Knees

I trip over the intricate details
Falling over, under, through
Coasting and rushing
Tasting and splitting
Your words
		While you stagger on the surface 
		Unaware and oblivious
I hang on the memories of your past
Reliving your kiddy sensations
Crushed and enthralled
Hyper and confused
By growing
		While you envision me the same
		2D and stagnant
And my heart stings 
Much like scraped knees

Because you can’t understand me

12.23.2013

Copyright © Courtney Ivie | Year Posted 2013

Details | Courtney Ivie Poem

Agony

Not just my head aches
Under the tears and fever
I am just a girl

Copyright © Courtney Ivie | Year Posted 2014

Details | Courtney Ivie Poem

What happens when the moon falls in love with the sun

I see him across the
orbit,
Creating time in
mesmerizing circles,
Always so far from
me
Always so near.

We dance.

A lonely dance—
A tormenting dance,
Where we can never
touch
Nor; ever be apart.

The universe gave us
this gift,
Intertwining our
souls for an
eternity.
The universe gave us
this curse,
Extending the
longing over
lifetimes.

He pulls and I
follow.
He spins, and I
become dizzy—
Confused by his
nonchalance.

If he loves me, why
are we not closer?
If he doesn’t, why
is he still here?

Still, I follow…
My cold facade
revolving around his
light,
Hiding from the
universe,
A solemn expression
dug deep in my
surface.

He says we are
alike,
But I know enough to
know that it’s our
differences that
make us colorful.


His anger fuels,
It’s become a
self-sustaining
energy,
And I cringe
thinking of his rage
in the future, 
Who will his words
hurt in the future?

He burns,
And I die.
Empty and lifeless.
Just let me die,
And free me from
this course. 

He doesn’t know what
love is. 

Copyright © Courtney Ivie | Year Posted 2014



Details | Courtney Ivie Poem

The Devil's Cello

Someone’s wearing horns.
“I keep turning ideas ‘round and ‘round,” these are your words not mine.
Let’s dance, El Toro.
Jagged footwork, chaotic turn of events, graceful flip-flopping of antics; the trick is to hold your stance so he can’t plow through you. Close your eyes so you can’t see his smile. It’s the only line of defense. 
Twirling images of skin like red satin falling in a downward pirouette.
Let’s scheme, El Toro.
This is dangerous ground we’re stomping on.

Someone’s wearing strings.
“But, you’re taken,” these are my words not yours.
Let’s dance, Geppetto.
Guilt ridden irony, daydreaming about scenarios, and the act of being controlled- just keep following the pull and listening to your master. Entertain the boundaries and adhere to the rules. It’s the only way of survival. 
Tangled visions of life, like twine knotted in the midst of your grand production.
Let’s scheme, Geppetto.
This is a shaky stage we’re performing on.

Sweet melodious conscience, the Devil’s cello is humming.

Please don’t ask me twice.
Please don’t ask me thrice.


Copyright © Courtney Ivie | Year Posted 2013

Details | Courtney Ivie Poem

The Irony of Democracy

She's sleeping now as I watch 
her; angelic, innocent—most 
importantly—happy.
How do I tell her? It's become a 
type of obsession.
How do I tell her? My nights are 
spent rearranging phrases; 
hoping for a turn of events.
How do I look her in the eyes 
and explain what freedom 
means in our country?
"I'm sorry love," I sing to her 
while she rests, “for bringing 
you into the world already at the 
bottom."
And she will grow, stretch like 
the limbs of the great sequoias.
Her classes will be filled with 
dreams and motivations. Reach 
for the stars; you can achieve 
anything, just warped, candy-
coated reflections of the 
diminishing American Dream.
And when she grows she will 
detest me—if only momentarily
—for my lack of social standing.
"Why does life have to be so 
hard?" she will cry, her teenage 
feet will stomp with more force 
than they did as a child, and the 
cheap clothes dressing her 
ever-changing body will be 
nothing more than a reminder. 
They will be nothing more than 
a suffocating cage of fabric.
How do I tell her, I slaved to 
climb the executive ladder, and 
failed to get any higher?
"I'm so sorry; love, for not 
representing the nation's elites, 
but falling into the poverty of the 
masses." I will whisper in 
response to her distress.
I tried! I wanted to give you a 
decent life; I wanted to give you 
a head start for achievement!
The drive to succeed for her is 
almost unbearable.
She's sleeping now as I watch 
her; she only recently learned 
how to walk.
Still, my nights are spent 
stringing the thoughts and 
words together; wishing our 
lives were better; wishing that I 
could shield her.
Soon, she will learn how small 
her voice sounds in comparison 
with the screams of the nation.
How do I tell her?
 
Instead,
I kiss her forehead, and tuck her 
in.

Copyright © Courtney Ivie | Year Posted 2013

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Rude

"Look at me," he says, pulling my chin up to face him as I shyly avoid his gaze.
How can something so steady be so uncertain at the same...
time?
How can something so limited be so vast in this same...
space?
"Look in my eyes," he says, and I can't help but sink in resolution.
Deep in his soul I see my reflection,
Decades of enlightenment and meditation,
Brown eyes brought to life with unexplained sensation,
Decorated in elaborate scarlet silk and parted hair--
A present in the form of predestination.
"Look at me," he says,
And all I can see is the future.

4.15.14

Copyright © Courtney Ivie | Year Posted 2014

Details | Courtney Ivie Poem

I Surrender

It'll never work
Not logically
They say
And they are sure to remind
They are sure to define
Their ideas 
And push them—unwanted—against me.

It's not real 
They say
Just a fleeting 
Biological response
Where I'm me
And you're the stimuli
And they are sure to account
They are sure to make up 
For all of nature’s ordeals.
- -
Don't hurt me
Not again
You say
Just a simple recap
Of the year before 
And I feel the guilt burn 
In my tummy.

Don't leave me
You say
Or I won't survive
This time
And I picture you left
Without comfort
I picture 
My best friend
And my lover.
- -
Shh. 
I say
Be quiet
Close your mouths
And learn to listen. 
This feeling is not
Science nor fiction
It's the crafting 
Of two souls
With ageless wisdom. 

Mera munda
I say
Look at me
And his eyes
Demand my attention
Our gaze trapped by
Adoration
His feelings
My only passion
And everyone must see
That my heart's been his
Across lifetimes.

I surrender.

And my fate has been written
Before time.

I surrender.

And I cannot control
What was never mine.

I surrender.

Copyright © Courtney Ivie | Year Posted 2014

Details | Courtney Ivie Poem

Embarcadero of Loneliness

Soul,
I see you creeping
Under the crushed wavelengths
I can hear you weeping
Below the wilted water terrace
And you’re holding my heart.
And it’s burning your hands.

Gray,
Your cryptic veil touches my cheeks
They flush absent of color
Under the ripples of your aching
And you’re listening to my mind.
And it’s singeing your ears.

Copyright © Courtney Ivie | Year Posted 2013

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