Seattle, WA
Poet, blogger, lawyer, educator, sista, sister, aunt, daughter, mentor, friend, dog owner, lover of music and all things gluten free... Writing about all of this and more.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Coffee Shop Series, pt 2

More from the Coffee Shop Series. Excuse the entirely unoriginal poem titles.

I got this itch that only my pen can scratch
I got this itch that only my pen can scratch
only my pen can scratch rough over smooth paper
and spill out words the way the
hot coffee spills down my throat
warm reaching and healing weariness

it’s so in me I could live without blood first
clinging to my spirit both a blessing and a curse
searching through my mind to find the perfect line or the next verse
to give birth to what’s felt but what’s unsaid and unrehearsed.


Closed eyes and open mind
Trying to find solace in words
But I lose myself in cloudy blurbs of the absurd
Like birds my verbs are fly
My imagination high,
A blue canvas ready to paint an open sky
I’m hopin my
Spoken cry
Can tell truths the shy me won’t admit to
All the shit I been through
Too sick for you to sift through
I sit blue and black in gray and white surroundings
My voice slips through sidewalk cracks,
Melted colors confounding
The muted chaos of my mind.

(c) Copyright Kia C. Franklin, 2003

No comments:

Post a Comment