Tag: poetry

The Poetry Snapshot: Deep Waters

nehaallathur Leave a comment

Loud voices, outspoken personalities.
The glimmering attraction of success all around us.

Seems as though there is only one
right path to take in this infinite world.
One right path for people to be impressed by me.

 Snoqualmie Falls, Washington

But is that what I want people to be?
Impressive should feel good, but it feels empty.
Impressive should foster change, but it falls short.

Impress. Inspire. Impressed. Inspired.
Ironic, how similar and interchangeably,
these words are used on the surface.

But how can people be inspired by someone
who follows the one set path to success.

How can people be inspired by someone
who stays in shallow waters and
does not explore uncontrollable waves.

I fall into the spotlight of success
and feel its withdrawals.
Impressive people fade away.
Inspiration leaves a legacy.

Directions

sarahshu Leave a comment

subways plunder into the stations

I’m hanging on to my phone

directions to here, there, everywhere

I assure you I am not lost

far from it

 

this alone makes it feel a little lonely

and yet filled with company

chats with Chris are long and fulfilling

see you at Main St, we are headed the same way

returning the same way

so no goodbyes are said

a stranger no more

 

you don’t have an accent

but I do, its an American one i think

Are you sure you didn’t go to International School?

I laughed internally, so deeply

for I cannot answer their questions, for I

myself am puzzled, even back at home they say

the same, however i am glad i amused you

I’m glad. 

 

The Poetry Snapshot: change in AA

nehaallathur Leave a comment

Summer green turns into
vibrant shades of autumn.

This transition happens,
whether I think about it or not.
Whether I want it to or not.

Ann Arbor, Michigan

One morning I notice
my morning walk to class is crisp.

A brisk breeze is hitting my face
and leaves on the ground are
being brushed past my feet
as I walk by freshly carved pumpkins.

I realize I should have worn more layers.
People around me are bundled up
in their scarves and winter boots.

Something about this change feels cozy,
and I cannot help but smile.

I appreciate the beauty of impermanence.
A seasonal love, in a sense.

What a shame it would be,
if summer lasted forever.

 

The Host

Aina 2 Comments

Like the Statue of Liberty, the library called,

“Give me your tired, give me your weary” 

A lighthouse, it gleamed in the distance.

It was a sanctuary, 

Their sanctuary,

Home to chairs that were 

Uncomfortable but they had stopped minding

Various Tupperware containers being opened 

Different cuisines fusing into one,

At the same time.

It was a good fusion.

Studying, they tried, eventually, the subjects would 

Merge into one, math and english and science, 

And so many others, the majors were endless,

At this point, though, they were one and all the same.

They tried to force themselves awake,

Taking breaks, they

Watched the football on the television,

But they had watched a hundred games like this one,

And it had yet to become different.

Besides, their mind had entered a dream-like state,

Half-asleep, they ate their dinner.

It was impersonal, cooked by someone they didn’t know,

Not to say it wasn’t good, 

Because it was, 

But they missed home, a little bit.

Eventually, they couldn’t resist the pull of gravity,

They laid their heads on their books

And their eyes begin to flutter

Still, they tried to keep awake, realizing that they had been tricked

The library was courteous, a gentleman,

It tiptoed around them 

Cast sparkling shadows from the sunset

Onto their faces,

And lulled them to sleep.