B&B Poetry Series: The Elements

Okay, okay guys. I’m a real jerk. I forgot to post the theme for this week’s Poetry Series. So, I’ll go ahead and start unveiling it on the post so you’re prepared for next week’s!

Next week’s theme will be: My Body Is A Museum

Now, onto this week’s poems! We have poems from myself, Matt, and Ally! Enjoy. 🙂

Alone by Faren Coday

The eyes of
clapped thunder
underneath my feet
and slinking
behind the skin
on my neck
between the rain.

My face turned
my cheeks bare–yet
a cherry red
from looking
out of the windows
of my soul
that my house
is on fire.

shook my insides
as I sighed,
for my body
is only familiar
with the concept
of inhaling–
inhaling until I have
no oxygen
r e s t i n g
within my lungs.

This was going to be my year.

I am left with
only the
of positive words
floating in my glass
with no
to part my lips
to say them,
so they
all sink
to the bottom.


Gravity by Matt Louden

A miracle,
or so
they say.
A mistake
gone right.
Made by
scientists with
nothing better to do.

He didn’t
their words.
After all,
the silence
of space is
and dark,
and cold.

Sapphire skies
and sparkling
diamond stars
looked like
infinite possibilities
from the ground.

his view
Empty and
The cosmos,
his nurse,
helped him
without air.
Without warmth.
Without a home.

Until he saw
hurtling towards
Her bright orange
drew him closer
like a moth.
He could finally

And when
he looked down,
he noticed
his feet weren’t
the ground
for the first time.

Storms by Ally Fazio

When the rain beats on the windows and on the roof of my small town house
I remember the nights I spent in my first home watching the lightning and listening to the thunder
My own personal soundtrack to life.
I remember the nights I spent sitting up in my bed reading my loneliness away and listening to my thunder
and smiling at every flash of lightning that barely managed to shine through my window.
I remember the fear my friends had at my first sleepover during the storm when they thought someone I couldn’t see was outside.
I remember staying awake at night to keep my storms company,
Because if I had to feel lonely at night sitting in my bed and listing every friend I had on one hand
at least the storms could count as another.
They might not give advice like my mom
or tell me to get over it like my sister sometimes did.
They didn’t make me feel even more hatred toward myself like my dad did once
Because they were there for me,
but then I remember the other supposed friends I had that were only around when it fit in there schedule.
They were only around when their own tears were ready to fall and I was their comforter,
but when I needed comfort I was back in my room with only my books, stuffed animals, notebooks, and creativity to cover up my pain.
They were there when they felt like it and I didn’t care because maybe I deserved it.
Maybe I was supposed to learn to fend for myself and care about myself.
Maybe the storm was just supposed to make me realize I only ever need one person, and that person is me.


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