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NIGHTS OF POETRY Sheena Arzola
Table of Contents Reflective Essay Haikus: o Nights of Poetry o Come to You o Tell Me Duplex Poems: o The Call of Darkness o What Does it Feel Like? Poems: o Sobering Clarity o Beauty and her Beast o My Demons o Secrets Glamis Castle o Dystopia Love Poems: o Come to Me o Meet Again o The Love of Youth Fun Poems: o Sea Of Freedom o The Cat in the Bar o The Writer Poetry: o A Book Addict o A Lost Girl o The Last Violin o Mexico Summers
Reflection Essay I have always had a love for poetry. Even at a young age. I still remember the time I read multiple poems throughout a book. The flow, the rhythm, the emotion throughout the poems captivated me. I do not remember what the poems were about. I do not remember what book I had read. What I do remember was thinking, “I want to write like this!” I grabbed a notebook and my 9-year-old self, with little knowledge of what poetry was, wrote my first poem. I was so excited! I wanted to share my thoughts, my words with someone else. When I showed my mom the sheet of paper with my unfledged poem, I was nervous. What would she think? What would she say? About 20 years later, I can still see my mom look at me and look back at the paper before she smiled slightly. “This was nice, but it’s not quite a poem,” she had said. I was disappointed. I went back to my room, to my book with the pretty words. How did one write a poem then? Later, my mom brought me a copy of Emily Dickinson’s poems and a copy of Robert Frost’s poems. I read them. I felt the flow, the rhythm, the emotion. I do not claim that I understood what Robert Frost and Emily Dickinson were trying to say in their poems as an adolescent. Because I didn’t. I just knew from then on, that those pretty words captivated me. Throughout my childhood into my teenage years and my adulthood I spent time, on and off writing my own poetry. I learned in different classrooms how to write it. I read good poetry. I listened to bad ones. I sympathized with those around me struggling to put their emotions onto paper in those pretty words. That is what this portfolio is. An embodiment of my emotions put into pretty words. I have finally learned what a poem is. I have finally learned how to write a poem. Now I am working on writing poetry with the flow of Emily Dickinson. The rhythm of Robert Frost. I am writing pretty words with the emotions of me.
Haikus Nights of Poetry Many sleepless nights Spent swirling in poetry Under the Moon’s eyes Come to You Can I come to you? I need to live in your arms. And feel safe again. Tell Me Oh please, tell me how Many times a tortured soul Can say, I am done.
Duplex Poems The Call of Darkness Oh, how can I confess To the call of darkness It’s the call of darkness That drowns me, pulls me deeper Drowning. Going down deeper Into a madness, once called home Once, safe in this madness I called home I sang with the shadows They call me, my shadows, Even now, these dark Sirens These enchanting dark Sirens Bade me, come back to the darkness The sweet call of the darkness I want it, I must confess.
What Does it Feel Like? What does it feel like, to drown? Begging for air when I can’t breathe. I beg him for air. Let me breathe! Fighting waves of his caress Fighting these waves, fighting his caress Salt and water fill my lungs Salty tears choke my lungs Let me go! Please? I’m drowning. Please, let me go…I’m…drowning. One last gasp and I go limp No gasping left, falling limp. Dark waves carry me down Claiming me, pulling me down So, this is what it feels like, to drown.
Poems Sobering Clarity Those domestic summer nights Spent in loneliness, waiting. Drunkenly hoping you Would beat the sun home This time. My begging promises Raining tears on your deaf ears Pleading for the tenderness You once showed me but now, Gift her. Once more giving over to The numbness of a bottle, I can’t think about this today I’ll think about it tomorrow Daybreak hits me, all at once Its clarity sobering me What I needed was to be loved Not by you but by me.
Beauty and her Beast Beauty was the oldest child A pariah in her family Rarely favored in her father’s eye Though she carried on gallantly Perfecting her empty smiles She kept on the search, Somewhere out there For affection to make her whole. Beasts with the promise to save her Too often loved her with bruises Blooming bright, as blood red roses Surrounding my poor beauty in, A hopeless keening symphony. An aggressive spiraling waltz, That kept beauty in her needing. Confusing the stars in the dark For her hopeful light of freedom Blindly seeing love and beauty In the Beast’s corruption.
My Demons Demons in my mirror That I look in everyday Demons in my closet That I try to hide away My demons bruise me They make me weak Those demons abuse me They make me meek. Every day they scream Promises to kill me. They even fill my dreams With no way to save me. How can I fight my demons? These Monsters with my face No hope, no freedoms With this darkness in my place.
Secret Glamis Castle Oh, Dear Glamis Castle What secrets do you hold? The new young mistress Hears of this secret. Fair Glamis Castle What secrets do you hold? With the Master gone hunting White Mistress hunts the secret Quiet Glamis Castle What secrets do you hold? Lady puts rags in the windows One window sits empty Illusive Glamis Castle What secrets do you hold? Lord Glamis hears this, becomes angry And sends his young wife away Imposing Glamis Castle What secrets do you hold? Whispers of a deformed child The Monster of Glamis Castle Sits lonely in a secret room. Oh, Dark Glamis Castle What a sad secret do you hold.
Dystopia The sun barely lights the rooftops When the alarm screams, ablaze My coffee pot drip drops in anxiety As the Earth spreads in flames Panic shudders then sparks in the morning air One thought consumes me, I want to be there Calm finds me, in a land of chaos My manic brain is used to being A being fed on the lives in pathos Racing through the red skies of morning My sneakers clap on the pavement towards you If we’re gonna do this, let’s do it right Holding each other tight, one last kiss As the Earth crumbles from sight.
Love Poems Come To Me Come to me, In the silence of the night. And tell me, To scream with all my might. Let me cry. Please tell me I can wail. Let me sigh, And hold me through my hell. Remind me, It’s okay to fall apart. Come to me. Just come to me. And love me through the dark.
Meet Again Close your eyes, Love And I will close mine. Let us meet again In the magic Of sweet darkness. Let Lord Morpheus And lovely Eros Plan us a coup Where we can meet again Under Indigo skies And winking stars. We’ll reunite in The hours before day breaks And I can glean, One last look at you.
The Love of Youth I was like her once, you see A fresh bloom, open to love Feeling the whirlwind of passion Lost in the world of romance How sweet, the innocence of youth The nervous trust of a first kiss I too, felt this magic once, anew A magic so generous and pure The darkness of reality Is this youthful dream’s cure I pray to you, Goddess of Love Give mercy to this poor youth Let her have, what I was not deemed Worthy of.
Fun Poems Sea of Freedom She was a terror of the seven seas Salt crystalizing in her hair Baring eyes, born of the Sea King The tempest wind whipped her cape Their whispers embolden her mount Upon the flighty emerald waves The taste of freedom was near A journey worthy, a great love affair.
The Cat in the Bar A cat walked into a bar A glint in his eyes His aim to cause chaos As he leaps on the bar. One cup, two cups, three cups, four! He shouts with glee, As he pours them on the floor. “No!” shouts the bar keep As the cat reaches the last glass. “Don’t do it” begs the man Before the cat knocks it down, With one swift pass. His job complete, He then jumps down And saunters out To cause chaos in the town.
The Writer Writers are the magicians Behind the magic And the sword In the knight’s hand. They are the voice Of the dreamers. The word smith In command Writers are the Tellers of fortune The fountains of truth. A writer is the voice In all of you.
Poetry A Book Addict A magician, they call me As I leap from page to page. An addiction, in reality That’s what they mean to say. A bard, a singer of tales Wandering the books. Avoiding this real life And all that it entails. I’d rather be Peter Pan A lost girl, in book world Young and free, I’d forever be! Erased from this reality. A Siren calling forth The authors abyss Embracing my dependence On my literary high.
A Lost Girl Mixed, Mutt, Half-Breed A light skinned girl With a Gaelic first name. A coffee eyed girl With a Spanish surname In the middle of Kansas. Too light skinned to be Mexican Too dark to be one of them. I am a lost girl Searching the mountains of Mexico For the echoes of my forefathers. Looking towards the Scottish Highlands Hoping to hear the calling Of my Gaelic ancestors. Searching for the identity of a lost girl Who is dark, like my Mexican Father And who is light, like my Gaelic Mother.
My Last Violin My hand held your neck I caressed it so gently My fingers pressing My heart a nervous medley I held you so close Nestled under my chin I felt my breath catch At the sound of my violin Soft at first But then she roared I was lost In the way we soared Music filled my lungs For once, I felt so alive Every pull of the strings The will to survive I still remember How beautiful you felt When we sang together That last echoed crescendo…. My heart felt.
Mexico Summers My summers were spent In the spicy warmth of Mexico. Ma Belen’s kitchen smelled of Spices and chocolate. There I would sit Licking the sugar From my lips After the mouthful of pan dulce My Pa Jose would buy me. Cousins would laugh and run Through the courtyard The scent of lime trees with them. Dresses danced in the sunlight As they dried on the line. Swirling bubbles in the wash bin Where Ma Belen scrubbed the clothes This is how I spent my summers in Mexico. Digging fire pits for roasting. Cleaning cow heads for dinner. The smell of food Drawing family from their houses. Guitars serenaded at twilight Mi Familia sang along. Until it was time, To go back to Kansas. This is how we spent our summers, in Mexico.
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