Poetry
Hey everyone!
This is just one of my poems, just to give a taste of my style and content! I won’t publish the rest of them on the site permanently for now. Instead, I want to share them every other week through my email blog, with poetry being the primary element. I have long-since dreamed of publishing a poetry book and fully intend to, but until then feel free to subscribe below for my stand alone poems.
This poem feels fitting to share as an introduction as myself as a poet. It’s called:
“On Writing”
How could I not write?
When life drapes herself in poetry,
and walks the streets as tearful royalty,
tired mothers, and desperate thieves.
How could I not write?
When sentences are scrawling themselves into me,
Ancient trees and sepia scenes
demand rivers of cursive midnight ink.
How could I not write?
When stars pool into waves of cascading grace,
nostalgic of that childhood place,
filled with dreams of astronomy.
How could I not write?
When even 2 a.m. car-crammed feasts,
speakers blaring revelry,
have a hand yet dipped in beauty.
How could I not write?
When scars themselves taught me storytelling,
their sinuous calligraphy
etching tales onto bodies.
How could I not write?
Not carve rivers in slivers of wood,
this humble mirror I offer to the rain,
who did a better job of depicting pain.
How could I not write?
When my pockets are filled with fragile,
origami-folded memories,
and my pen is preservation’s key.
How could I not write?
~K.H.G.
