Poem for Detroit

If you know me at all, you know how much I love my hometown of Detroit. Today the city filed for bankruptcy. I wasn't on-line all day, I saw the news when I got home. It wasn't a huge surprise, but it was a heartbreaking one.

For dVerse Poets Pub (It's been a while, guys!!) Using "Oh the places we live!" Even though I don't live in the D anymore & "The Poet's Toolbox"!!

My Detroit

I didn’t expect the news of Detroit today to get to me so much,

But I know why it did:

Detroit is my home.

Hot summer nights spent in Tiger’s Stadium.

Family outings to Ford Field.

My cousins babysitting my brother (the only boy) & I

at our Grandmother’s.

Sitting around multiple tables at my aunt & uncle’s house

because there were too many of us to fit at a single table.

Watching the Red Wings

skate to victory two years in a row

in my aunt and uncle’s living room.

Huge, Polish Catholic, family reunions on the lake.

Sleeping on the floor in tiny cabins

without air conditioning.

Meeting my cousin’s newly adopted daughter,

the first of the next generation of our family.

My cousin’s baby shower,

her sister stricken with cancer,

the two of them never stopped smiling that day.

Family members tight in together, both sides,

at my grandmother’s

then my aunt’s

then my cousin’s funerals.

Detroit is my family,

my history,

my love.

A Poem About Poetry

"The page is long, blank, and full of truth." - Jack Kerouac

"Life is too short to live without poetry." - Frank Turner

Hope you like it!! Leave a comment, please, if ya'd like!! :-)

The Poetry of Me

Staring, again,

at yet another bank page

in my notebook.

An upbeat punk tune

guitars, bass, drums, piano

pulse through my headphones

and into my brain.

I believe that there is

poetry in everything.

In the kids running

through the fountains in the park,

parents close by watching

yet letting their little ones be kids.

In the black sleek tower

looming above the park from a distance,

the chief building in the city’s skyline.

In the concrete block emerging

out from the grass, currently

holding me while I write.

I write about

what I see, feel, hear, love, experience.

And today my poetry

comes from the park.

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Hockey & Superman in a Poem!!

This one's untitled, again (I kinda suck at titling my poems!!) I've been writing really short poems lately for some reason!! Here's a new one, containing hockey & my Superman blanket!! Was inspired by something someone said about being in my element the other day when I told him that I was being boring!! Let me know what you think!! Thanks for stopping by!! (Oh, and title suggestion for this and any untitled poem of mine are always welcome!!) :-)

                                                            (Yes, this is the actual blanket that I write about!!)

Hockey’s playing on my TV

but it’s not my favorite team.

I’m half-heartedly watching

while playing with my phone.

I’m feeling vulnerable tonight,

again,

laying underneath my Superman blanket.

No reason to feel exposed

But alone, in my old cavernous house,

I feel the weight of being me,

of my own self-doubt

and of my strength to prevail,

fighting a battle to win me over.

I can take off, I know

that I can fucking fly!

But I first have to find

where the hell my kryptonite is hidden.

You, Again

Hey!! Bet you can guess who/what this one is about!! One day I will fucking get over that man!! Hope it comes soon!!

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You, Again

I still hurt to my very core.

Anything that even remotely reminds me of you

makes my breath catch, my chest seize, my eyes go red,

makes my heart physically hurt.

I’m suspicious of everyone now.

New people, old people, friends.

What do they all want from me?

Am I acting correctly according to them?

When will they leave me?

All at once,

or will they go marching

out one-by-one.

I’ve never liked being drunk.

The fuzz in the head, not being in control,

possibly feeling like I have to puke.

But now, it makes me feel real,

feel alive. Feel something other than pain

when I think of you. But even then, I still feel pain.

I drink ‘til I can’t hold my head up,

until it’s as heavy as my heart.

I drink until I pass out.

The only time I can’t feel anything

is when I’m unconscious.

I can barely even look

at one of my favorite photos

of a Black & Tan at my favorite bar.

Because one of the last things you ever said to me

was that you liked that picture.

Fitting, that one of your favorite beverages

is helping me get over you.

Heartache Ain’t A Thing I’d Recommend

So, I'm going through a rough time right now. The two previous poems are also about what's going on. The title for this poem was taken from a Ducky Boys song. The band's lead singer, Mark Lind, is my favorite songwriter mentioned in the poem. My favorite comedian is Christopher Titus if you want to check out some of his stuff. Not my best poem ever, but let me know what ya think (Please)!

Just snapped this photo of what's beside me as I type!! :-)

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Heartache Ain’t A Thing I’d Recommend

My favorite comedian once stated

that when a girl gets her heart broken

she automatically slips into an

“eat cookies and cry period.”

Well, I take a slightly different route,

with a drink whiskey and write period.

My favorite songwriter once said

to never trust anyone

who hasn’t been broken by life,

who hasn’t been kicked while they’re down,

because they can’t imagine how it feels.

If I had only listened to him,

I wouldn’t be so broken, again.

I wanted to sit outside,

in the rain, and write.

I wanted to watch raindrops

blur the blue lines of my notebook

and the black ink of my pen strokes together.

I wanted my notebook to look

how I feel: washed-up, used,

left out for the elements.

Instead I’m huddled

on a whicker couch in a screened in porch.

With only yoga pants, a worn-out hoodie, and a Superman blanket

to shield me from the 39 degree winds.

I shiver as I write,

pull my blanket tighter around me,

move around in my seat

on my unending quest to get comfortable .

This’ll do, I think

before I run inside to refill my glass.

MicroPoetry

So, I don't know how long this has been going on, but over the last few days in Twitter I've been reading #MicroPoetry tweets, AKA poetry written with 140 characters or less. I'll probably be writing more as the days go on. Here's my first attempt, not too shabby I think!! :-)

The picture is of Marc Orrell, my absolute favorite guitarist. Because this photo makes me way happy!!

I wish I could
grab your shoulders
shake you
Yelling until you understand
but I'll sit here placid
strumming my thoughts away

I Still Have Some Crying to Do, But...

I don't really want to say a lot about this one right now. The person knows who he is. Me being 100% honest. Something the subject has asked me to be many times.

I Still Have Some Crying to Do, But...

You broke me

when I thought I couldn't fall any further,

you kicked me down even more.

You said you wouldn’t abandon me,

that you could handle me.

I guess my craziness

was too much for you.

We talked about getting out,

driving away from the city,

to the mountains, to Montana.

I told you about my dead dog,

named after Montana.

We connected over baseball,

then we shared our love for hockey.

You listened to all of my crazy punk music

even though I knew

you marched to slower drummers.

You called me pretty,

indulged my crazy plans

to steal guitars from my favorite musicians.

You gave me a virtual kiss goodnight.

But my emotions, my insecurities,

got in the way.

(And right now I can barely see what I’m writing,

blurred by my tears.)

I can’t blame you.

I don’t blame you.

I know I got in the way.

I don’t know how you felt,

if you cared for me deeper

than just a random acquaintance.

But I can admit now

that I fell in love

with your spirit, your character, your outlook on life,

your confidence in me.

I was too much to handle.

I don’t blame you, I can’t blame you.