Phoenix
she crouched like a bird on a perch
her eyes were sharp like a hawk
she hovered over her land
it was hers and hers alone
but still she hovered too close
afraid of what might be next
she coveted her valleys and groves
but cherished her beautiful water most of all
it shined with the power of a thousand suns
glowed deep into the night
to the people it was a sign of rebirth
a sign of passion
a place to wash away spite
but the water couldn’t handle her consistent, watching eyes
nor the pressure of her wings
it was tired and needed reprieve
so just one day,
it upped and walked away,
taking her glory with it
and all she was left was a canyon,
an everlasting hole in her heart
the thing she tried so hard to protect had failed her,
Leaving only that indelible mark
Berlin
when they were young, the twins were inseparable
through peace,
love,
war,
they always seemed to band together
until one day,
a man came to stay
not knowing what he would find
welcomed by the twins with open arms
but only one he seemed to mind
he picked his favorite and told the other lies
until one day, the twin replied
“this is my home, you are not welcome here,
take my brother and say goodbye”
but the other twin was upset at his brother’s disgrace
of the first friend he was to find
so he declared war
brother against brother
man against man
land versus land
by the end of the war, their home was in shambles
both of the twins were traumatized
the only remaining sense of sanity,
the wall that brought more demise
San Antonio
there once was a man with cowboy spurs
pacing in his place in the sky
he was proud of his little city
proud of the culture, the food, the fiesta
so he decided he was too good for everyone else
he wanted to be one and his own
so he disgraced his compadres
and declared himself independent
but the rest of the sky was proud of the city as well,
missed their friend,
wanted them back,
so they waged a war against the man with the spurs,
only hoping to regain some intel
and so they fought
night after night
right on the man’s home ground
until one day, this reached his most cherished place
and one by one, destroyed his men
victory was lost
hope was tarnished
and all he had to say was this
“remember the Alamo”
Boise
there once was a man in the mountains,
a family man of sorts,
who spent his days on his farm
and his nights on his overlook
he provided his people with potatoes,
smiling at them as they passed,
wanting only to be happy
and to bring his love to others
soon, the word spread of this benevolent king
a man who could get you what you wanted,
a man who cared
so the people came in flocks
with them, they brought an elixir,
which turned to magic in your mouth
at first taste, the king was addicted,
always demanding more
until one day, he stopped his days in the field,
his nights on the overlook,
bringing no more potatoes to his people,
only sitting at home with his magic elixir
this man was no longer a family man
or benevolent
or kind
he was putrid and gluttonous
leaving his people high and dry
Los Angeles
her hair glows in the sun,
a beautiful honey blonde,
forming a halo around her head,
the perfect picture of innocence
but is she so innocent after all?
poverty, rape, murder, harassment, corruption,
it all lies beneath the surface;
she doesn’t try to hide it
but still, she lures you in,
sitting regal upon her throne,
the scent of orange groves wafting from her skin
she can make you a star
you could glow high in the sky,
not a care in the world,
kiss your problems goodbye
or she could break you apart,
attacking your weaknesses until you fall,
turning you into a facet of her
just another name in the hall of broken hearts
you like to think you have a choice
but don’t you realize?
it’s no longer up to you,
in her hands lays your demise
Szczecin
there once was a little, shy girl
timid and naive
but though she was little, she was anything but innocent
the ghosts of her ancestors haunted her life,
an everlasting sign of familiar despair,
of the trauma she would never shake
for although she brought her own life,
it was forever tainted with the past,
of the horrors she allowed to happen,
of the pain she once felt
and so everyday, she sat in the corner,
slowly rocking to herself
through the lens of her eyes,
she could only see grey,
in herself,
in her town,
in the sky,
painting life with an ominous, dreary hue
Gig Harbor
an old fisherman sits in the sky looking over his land,
he watches the people stream by as he lounges back,
yet the winter makes him sad
and he can’t help but cry.
down pours his tears all over the land,
on the sound,
the trees,
the trails,
soaking and drowning the things he’s supposed to love
feeling ever lonely, sitting above.
until one day, he finds a friend,
“cheer up,” she says, “don’t cry”
pulling him in close
brightening the sky
and to the people, bringing joy
but the man doesn’t know how to handle this love
wouldn’t even if he tried
so he pushes her away,
fending off her generosity
until one day she stops pushing back
and the man can’t help but cry
Belles Lettres - A Literary Magazine 