Shake

Shake
Abbigail H.

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Oh blessed moonlight gathering,
Your haunted beams so do caress
My shadow and should I forget to
Thank you, take my apology now
And run for the hills
For they are alive with the
Sound of
Musical crescendos swing dance with the stars
While unknowing bodies of Chrysanthemums
Bake a steamy casserole
Of every forgotten memory that has shaped my existence.

But don't forget about the monster
Under the bed.
He moved there last week, you know,
After feeling claustrophobic in the closet
Of befallen heartbreak,
And don't fall asleep yet, because,
As Watsky put it:
"Contrary to popular belief,
That's not where dreams are accomplished."
Or something like that.

Collection of Text Poetry

A collection of text-poetry
Abbigail H.

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HOLDING YOUR HAND
-----
When I hold your hand
My palm gets sweaty
And yours does too.
But I don't let go,
And neither do you
And we both smile
Becase it feels just right


WINTER MORNING
-----
Walking to school in the
morning,
When it's getting light but
the sun hasn't rised,
And the sun on the lawn sparkles,
And it's beautiful


AUTUMN
-----
I love it when I first notice
That the leaves aren't green
'Cuz that means autumn is
on its way
And it's a great season,
In its own way

John Gardner Killing Exercise

A writing exercise for Creative Writing
Abbigail H.

-------------------

     No. The word rings clearly through the man's head. He doesn't notice closing the outdated flip phone, or that the woman on the other end was still talking. He feels a bit dizzy. The street slants before him multiple times and the entire world begins to spin, using him as it's new axis.
     Someone asks him when the bus is supposed to arrive, but the voice is muffled and distant, echoing slowly in his head, trying to find a place to sit. The same someone thanks him and walks away. The man feels his mouth close. Did I speak? He wonders.
     It' s then that the cold hits him. A hard cold, so intense he starts shaking immediately. He can feel the marrow draining from his bones and filling back up with frozen lead. His emotions and thoughts soon follow suit.
     Somewhere in the back of his head he hates that he's wearing a t-shirt and jacket. He hates the levis donning his legs. They're a burden that he wants to be free from. The anger swelling up inside of him is almost enough to make itself known against the darkness that now shades his mind.
     "Hey!" The word slices through a fog, driving itself deep into his consciencesness. It is an eternity before he is able to drag his eyes up form the sidewalk to the smelly bus driver who wears a blue shirt the color of dust. The man is embarassed for him.
     He tries to move his legs but someone walking by must have nailed his shoes to the cement. The man's eyes shake themselves back down slowly, as the driver looks away and the bus slowly crawls off, leaving him only with the exhaust billowing up to his face. He breathes it in, willing it to carry him away.
     His eyes blur into nothing as he stands there, staring down, as the cold gets worse and clouds cover up the sky, catching on to his mood. He fixates on a bug scuttling about by his feet, the only clear thing now, and finds himself thinking about it intently.
     A salty raindrop rolls down his nose and hangs there and he blinks his sore eyes. The ocean must be cryinging, he thinks.

Gay

Gay
Abbigail H.

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I am gay
My article and justice must be a finality.
Understand this:
we are personal
We are brave, strong, courageous, and many.

Twenty years ago I quoted,
"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

Martin Luther King Jr.

I held my dance of the Nations
In the formation of
The dance that represented we follow those
Who are succeded by those who come after us.

It was that special movement
I used as
Gay pride.

With compassion and wisdom,
Nurturing, love and liberations,
To impress the crowd,
A relay race.

We recieved a torch and we pass it on to
People worthy of the legacy who
Dare to be queer among
Homphilia.

See the light of liberationists illuminating the
Dark corners of centuries.

The torch is a beacon of hope.

However held back by the lies of institutionalized loathing,
This liberty torch
Passed from one to another.

Drag human dignity,
Courage, and
Community to the humanitarians who were
Willing to put their lives on their line and
Raise community consciousness and unity.

It is easy to live in a vaccuum.
But today we must shine in the heaven of options undeard
Although surrounded by darkness
And empty prejudice.

We who struggle remain truly free
And continue each generation.

We run swiftly and
Remember to dance.

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Thanks to Ben Williams, whose aritcle, "Pass the Torch and Dance", I used to write this.