New batch of poems


Diabloii.Net Member
New batch of poems

Well...I'm not sure if any of you know, but I'm a creative writing major. Now and then, I like to put my stuff on display, and get feedback. If you're so inclined, feel free to tell me which poems you like or dislike. You can give reasons if you want, or not if you prefer. Either way, here ya go.

Karma’s Debtor

I went back to the church last year for a miracle.
Pomegranate dust fell on empty afternoon pews
where I knelt for the first time since eighth grade.
Sister Matthew Marie thought I stopped going because
God couldn’t stop cancer, and because I had to tell
Kelly Stokes why I was crying during Art class.

The smell of those pine-oil finished pews helped me
remember when life was anything but tragic, and
faith existed like game-winning homeruns or Santa Claus.
I only remembered a few lines from The Lord’s Prayer,
but I must’ve repeated those words for half an hour,
and squinted harder every time—but nothing happened.

I stopped going to church because I grew up,
and only went back because I wanted to be twelve again.
I prayed for a miracle, but no matter how hard I squinted,
I couldn’t make Jesus bleed.

Southern Goodbyes

Mom once told me she couldn’t go to my basketball games
because she didn’t want to cut herself on those metal chairs
and bleed sick blood where eight-year-olds played.

She cut herself, once, on the edge of the dishwasher,
and cried for two hours while she sponged down the floor,
yelling at me to keep away from her and the metal things.

My sister was more mature than me, and could manage a smile
when my mother spent all night in the bathroom, trying on
her new wig and saying, “how’s your bald mother look now?â€

And my sister is the one, who won’t let me forget that pain,
making sure she says cancer at every family get-together—
making me remember that my mother will die a painful death.

Mom says she only wants one thing in life—a big porch,
somewhere she can embrace the mystery of death in peace,
and forget family get-togethers with a glass of lemonade.

The Single Life

Ben said I should think more
with my balls,
and less with my brain.
I am a single stitch
on a patch of Velcro.
All around me, others stick.
I’m left solitary and
I can’t move
because I’m trapped within them.
Everywhere is a lonely place
when no one understands you
more than a fortune cookie.

The Autumn of my Desires

This aged twig, my grandfather’s elbow, mummifies into a granite fossil. New life perches at the end, a half-blossom, some shell-splitting alien. Scarlet tentacles squirm outward, a fetal bud still covered in birth. Arms and legs protruding in orchestrated anarchy, a poor girl’s velvet prom dress—unattractive, yet not. You are the pipe I smoked watching South Park in Nick’s pocket lint apartment, sinking into bottomless pillows and wanting to suffocate on their satin, new car smell. You are epic tales I narrated under covers, sunlight dripping through thousand-count sheets—wanting every portion of my body to be saturated by worryless, dryer sheet cotton. I could breathe in your delicate fragrance, bury myself in your bud, and be stoned on your aromatic nostalgia—flashbulb memories that replay like a dirty Film-Noire finale You are pitch-black turned translucent—the way the world becomes simplistic when finally comfortable. You are every screaming want and desire left in my apathetic mind. Yet this excitement, this novelty of sense will wear off. And you too will die.


Diabloii.Net Member
Great poems, sorry I cant give any decent feedback.

Not that I have any talent myself but I wonder what kind of things you would be taught in creative writing.


Diabloii.Net Member
Southern Goodbye is the only one I liked. Nice theme with some symbolism from ordinary events. Could feel the pain and suffering of the author.

I didn't understand or couldn't appreciate the other ones.

My 2 cents.


Diabloii.Net Member
i liked them all. creative writing is one of those things that is hard to criticize because it is not definite, it is an art and it seems to me that you wrote these from the heart. that is one thing you cannot truly do wrong. they were very beautiful, although i sense you were writing from experience which stands to say that you have had a painful family life. cancer is not gentle and i can empathize with you on that. i liked them. :p


Diabloii.Net Member
Deep... and very very good. I very much enjoy reading them. You have a talent for putting ideas into words.

P.S.- can you do Haikus? :uhhuh: