We're Halfway Through National Poetry Month, and here I come with my 2 cents (a day)...

I figured the remainder of this month would give me a good motivator and foray back into writing. It's been entirely too long! We won't talk about all of the drafts sitting in my queue (here on blogger and in my notes app on my phone). Anywho, I'll try to provide two poems each day over the next 15 days to hit my 30/30 goal. Here are my first two pieces. I wrote them at ages 18 and 19. Seemingly in love with someone who didn't love me like I loved them...a bit stupid as we all are at that age. Deep and profound for no reason. Lol! Enjoy!


No Strings Attached - by Mirakol Smith, circa August 2009, edited April 2015

call me Gepetta...for I am the she playing on your heart strings like a puppeteer.
a callused-fingered violinist
feel me...
can you feel me, you feel me.
let me know you feel where I'm coming from.
fingers going numb. sweat trembles from the balcony above you.
I pull, you dance...on cue. you're my Pinocchio
with an ever-growing nose. the absence of truth...I can't think
as I blink back tears whilst the stage play continues
wanting to be yours, because I could use...somebody.
someone like you.
I'll cut your strings...



Untitled - Mirakol Smith, circa March 2009, edited April 2015

I gasped for my last breath as I died in your eyes...do you love me?
If you don't, then you've lied with your eyes.
And I've tried to grasp concept of this clairvoyance. That gut feeling--tummy twisting.
Do you hold that same sagacity? Can you feel me? Can you read me? Do you love me?
If you don't, my intuition has failed me. Thus, I have failed epically. I fell epically into a love that...
In essence, finds it hard to love me. Finding himself loving me, but not wanting to love me because he's finding himself. Find self...fine, self!
So, I told myself I'd be fine by myself. If I just mind myself. And focus on me.
But the love in his eyes make it hard for me.
Playing those two damn songs. On repeat. Constantly. As I let tears fall.
In hopes of one day receiving that knock on the door, that "oh my gosh it's him" call...for him to tell me...
He loves me. Do you love me? Please say it's so...Do you love me? My heart pauses for the know...Do you love me...or is that gut feeling, your sagacity, my intuition, the love in your eyes deceiving me?




See you tomorrow! :)