NaPoWriMo 2017

THE WORKS BELOW ARE COPYRIGHT © MAY EVERLY // FOREVER AND EVERLY // DO NOT STEAL UNLESS YOU WANT A BAG OF DRIED MANGOES THROWN AT YOUR HEAD


On this page, you can find all the poems I write for NaPoWriMo 2017. NaPoWriMo stands for “National Poem Writing Month”, similar to NaNoWriMo, and celebrates the National Poetry Month of April. You’re supposed to write a poem every day, so that is what I shall be doing. I’ll try to update every night, but you know me, the #procrastinator. I’ll probably write the poem really late at night and have no time to update. 😉

Let me know your thoughts in the comments, and I hope you enjoy reading my poems!

(I was a bad queen and started early. Oh well.)

―•―

4.30.17

am

i just wanted to be
pretty
but you couldn’t even
allow that
or help me
or make me feel the slightest bit
beautiful.

―•―

4.29.17

four-lettered humanity

there are only four letters
in the most beautiful word.
love.
there are only four letters
in the ugliest word.
hate.
if humanity can be reduced down
to four letters,
are we zero letters,
for the humanity
none of us
show?

―•―

4.28.17

pretty

today my hair was in braids
and i felt
pretty

until i
looked in the
mirror.

―•―

4.27.17

head

IN MY HEAD ARE
A THOUSAND WORDS,
SCREAMING TO SURFACE.
some of them do,
while some of them don’t.
IN THE END IT DOESN’T MATTER
what comes to mind,
because they exist,
lurking in the back,
the dark.
EVEN IF I TRIED TO BANISH THEM,
WHERE WOULD THEY GO?
BACK INTO MY MIND,
into my body, my heart my
soul?
THERE IS NO way to GET THEM out.
they will always be there.
VOICES and THOUGHTS and PICTURES and HALLUCINATIONS OF life and death and not life and not-death and the in-between and the outside and me.
a JUMBLE of THINGS
scribbled IN a MESS and ALL over
THE place.
but as MUCH AS I HATE these words and voices and thoughts and
feelings?
i CANNOT LIVE without them.
so what WOULD i BE without my
HEAD?

―•―

4.26.17

world of home

a light shines on the floor.
footsteps echo through the hall.
i turn my head and watch
as people walk by.
i am innocent,
i know,
but do the people know?
it’s only in this cold stiff steel strict fake loveless place
that i feel
safe.
and home
is a word
i don’t know
even when i want to
“go home”.

how can i live in
a place i love
yet hate
and want to escape?
there are words beyond our limits,
not a single can describe how i feel.
it’s the scribbles on the wall
that i can finally understand.
but home is calling me from that
invisible place and i have to go i have to go i have to

go.

so
goodbye
to this prison
that i love
and hate
and want to escape.
let’s burn this place down,
let the memories drown
in this place,
in this home,
in this world.

―•―

4.25.17

[none]

I WAS EXTREMELY STRESSED AND I FORGOT

―•―

4.24.17

[none]

I WAS STRESSED AND I FORGOT

―•―

4.23.17

status

white. straight. upper-class.
black. gay. poverty-stricken.
diversity? no.

―•―

4.22.17

a gardener

dried leaves,
wilted petals,
drooping plants,
dead trees.
this is a garden
set on fire
to burn for the
rest of its days.
but it’s not dead.
no, not dead at all.
it’s alive,
bursting with life,
because someone,
the gardener,
tends to it every day.
the leaves turn browner,
the flowers shrivel up,
the plants fall flat,
and trees break apart,
piece by piece.

the gardener nurtures the garden
back to health
so it will never
die
again.

―•―

4.21.17

one million and one

ink etched into your skin
like a book never to be erased.
flames can do nothing;
neither burn
nor scorch.
words tumble across your eyes,
one million and one things
you’ll never say,
not enough.

if ears could hear the screams
of the children,
they would break,
because shattering glass is
not enough to make you bleed,
because glass is nearly
not sharp enough to cut,
because your skin is tougher
than mine and than theirs,
because you are made of a steel
we will never get to feel,
because life chose to make you
the winner and us the losers,
because the score is at
one million and one to one,
because you beat us down and
broke our souls,
because we are not

worthy enough
to have ink etched into our skin
and words across our eyes,
one million and one
to one.

―•―

4.20.17

[not included on blog because of personal reasons]

―•―

4.19.17

the pain in love

hey
it’s all right.
even when the knife slices your face
and when my hand slaps your skin
it’s all right.
you’re going to be fine.
this is normal.
this is love.

you are a flower
a delicate flower
one that will get stronger by being
broken.
glass shatters
but you will not.
this is not making you weaker.
it is helping you.

i want to help you.
i love you
and would do anything to not see
you in pain.
but for that to happen
i must make you feel all the pain
until
one day
you won’t feel any at all.

isn’t that love
my delicate flower?

―•―

4.18.17

me

there is nobody
in this world
who can save me
from
myself.

―•―

4.17.17

who

think of all the people
who died.
who killed themselves
because life was too hard,
too painful,
too much.
who went to war and fought hard
for their country,
and didn’t return.
who passed away in their sleep
because the clock was ticking
and their time was
up.
who suffered years and years
of a disease or sickness or illness
eating at them.
who died
a death
and didn’t
live on.
think of them,
remember them,
and hope that you will not become them.

not yet.

―•―

4.16.17

self-racism

don’t be discouraged
by the color of your skin.
always love yourself.

―•―

4.15.17

they

they made black marks on the
ground,
stains on the world.
someone saw,
someone knew,
but no one cared.
it ruined nature,
it ruined beauty,
and its next target was humanity.

―•―

4.14.17

where i drowned

take me to the river
where i lost my life.
let me kneel in the mud
and remember the dreams,
remember the howls,
remember the feeling of surrender
when the water brought me down.
take me to the river
and let me stay
in a whirlpool of memories
and pain
and nightmares.

―•―

4.13.17

i hate

i hate that when
two girls
in a movie theatre
put their arms around each other
giggle
and go on their phones
they’re viewed as your typical white girly teenage girl.

i hate that when
two boys
in a movie theatre
put their arms around each other
lean in
and whisper in low voices
they’re viewed as gay boys with no masculinity.

i hate that when
people see you
they judge.
it’s human to judge
but it’s not human to hate
or discriminate.

i hate that when
i die
the hate will still be there.

i hate
and so do others.

―•―

4.12.17

anger

when you’re mad,
you explode.
you hurt yourself,
you hurt others.
but most of all,
you’re angry,
at something,
at someone.
you will probably give them the silent treatment,
or whisper mean things to them,
or just stop going near them at all.
but it doesn’t matter.
because in the end,
you’ll just stay angry.
nothing will change.
you’ll never stop being mad,
even if it’s a silly little thing,
because it’s not a silly little thing to you.
it will always be a big deal
and you will fight
and argue
and get mad all over again.
but that’s okay.
who needs friends anyways?

―•―

4.11.17

ghosts

leave me alone.
let me be with my ghosts.
I just want silence,
and freedom
from suffocation.
even as my memories overwhelm me,
I’ll feel less pain.
I’ll be okay.

I hope.

―•―

4.10.17

blind to see

don’t call racism
a thing that doesn’t exist.
you’re too blind to see.

―•―

4.9.17

too much for your own good

left behind in a shower of mud,
grime streaked across faces.
no on to witness,
no one to care.
all that’s left
is a red boot,
lying in a ditch,
that someone can wear
but never will see.

—sometimes we’re just a little blind

―•―

4.8.17

a thousand-kind love already aflame

dancing around words you’ll never say,
skidding your fingers across my face.
you cup my chin,
you caress my hair,
you show me how you feel
instead of telling me.

i kept a flower in my room,
the one you tucked into my hair,
telling me how it was beautiful,
my hair was beautiful,
but never once saying that i was beautiful.

a thousand words i said to you,
only ten said back to me.
a thousand times i told you,
zero you told me.
a thousand thoughts haunting me every night,
a thousand smells reminding me of you,
a thousand feelings and dreams of this or that, this and that,
but never did you have a thousand of
the same.

you always had less.
you were always less.
but i did not have more.
i was not always more.

i was simply
waiting,
hoping,
aching
for you to light the fire.
but sparks never flew,
flames didn’t catch,
the air never grew
hot.

and so i stand here today,
wondering what could’ve been,
what might’ve been,
what should’ve been,
tracing a pattern of love across my own face,
and telling myself
a thousand things.

i may have shattered,
but i am not battered.

let me have a thousand thoughts,
while you have none.
it only shows how
you
could not light the fire
that was already

aflame.

= how to trace a pattern of love across your own face when love isn’t there

don’t burn the flower that was so beautiful.

―•―

4.7.17

[none]

I WAS SICK AND A BAD PERSON AND DIDN’T WRITE A POEM *wails*

―•―

4.6.17

i am

i am not color.
i am not race, nor gender.
i am only me.

―•―

4.5.17

the one you used to love

sit on that swing
the one you used to love.
sing me a lullaby
from the days you would rock me.
blow me a kiss
and I’ll blow you one back
just like in the past
but never in the future.

sit on that swing
the one you used to love.
spine me a tale of pirates and princesses
of true love’s kiss
of never-ending sleep.
feed my hunger
and my thirst and my need.

sit on that swing
the one you used to love.
smell all the flowers
and let me smell them too.
pick some berries
pop them in my mouth
as if I were still a baby.

light a match
start a fire
add fuel to the flame
burn this whole place down
until there’s nothing left
but that swing
the one you used to love.

―•―

4.4.17

15 years since you loved me

1 year since I escaped you.
2 years since you doomed yourself.
3 years since you made me an outcast.
4 years since you hurt my friends.
5 years since you cut me.
6 years since you left me bleeding.
7 years since you hit me.
8 years since you screamed at me.
9 years since I first hated you.
10 years since I asked for love.
11 years since I learned to avoid you.
12 years since you broke my toys.
13 years since you bribed me.
14 years since you tickled and scratched me.
15 years since you loved me.

~wishing myself a happy birthday

―•―

4.3.17

[not included on blog because of personal reasons]

―•―

4.2.17

die for

when mountains stand between us,
i will still find you,
because you are the one person
i will never die for,
for you will
always be
the death
of me.

―•―

4.1.17

live laugh love

live.
laugh.
love.
what is life
what is laughter
what is love?

i can’t see it in the world around me.
i only see
faint smiles
and
i only hear
forced laughs
and
i only feel
too-tight hugs.

where has the happiness gone
if all we have now
is fake?

we only want to
live.
laugh.
love.
but how do we do that
if there’s nothing to live for
nothing to laugh about
nothing to love?

we are the makers of our own lives,
and we have chosen to make ours
miserable.

―•―

3.31.17

i only wanted

i only wanted
to fly
and be free,
but you couldn’t allow
me that small gift.
i only wanted
to try
and be me,
but you couldn’t allow
me that at all.
because you only want me
to be me,
but not me.

―•―

3.30.17

pull the eyes

you pull your eyelids
and say, “chinese, japanese,”
like it doesn’t hurt.

―•―

3.29.17

believing in yourself

the only problem
with believing in yourself
is when
you have
no one
to believe in.

―•―

3.28.17

need to breathe

i am not a bouquet of flowers you
throw away after i rot.
i am the air you breathe and need
to breathe.
i am the sun so bright you
shut your eyes but still can see.
i am the rain falling
down that feels so good.
i am not a flame to be put out.
i am not a heart to be crushed.
i am in you and around you
and you will
never escape
me.

―•―

3.27.17

when

will there ever be a time
when i am not stared at
everywhere i go
when i don’t hear remarks
of “ching chong”
when i will be accepted
for who i am

never let me go

carry me home
in your arms of honey
never let me go until I
fall from your fingers
bring me to the garden
where green has gone
take a petal
and set it in the water
i am a swan
graceful and smooth
never let me go

―•―

3.26.17

if

if you tapped me on the shoulder
right now
in the midst of these busy streets
i would turn around.
if you told me to meet you
right now
on the corner of the block
i would walk there.
if you gave me a friendly hug
right now
at the most random time
i would hug back.

but no one ever does that
so i’ll just leave it at the
if.

―•―

3.25.17

a perfectly wrapped gift

someday i want to wake up
and find
a perfectly wrapped gift
with a perfectly wrapped ribbon
with a perfectly wrapped bow
sitting on the edge of my bed
waiting to be opened.
i don’t know what i want
or what i will see in that box
but
i’ll know
that someone
actually
cares.

see

see that girl
see that girl over there
flawless pearly white skin
the clearest blue eyes
bright curly golden locks

see me
see me over here
scarred rough black skin
the darkest brown eyes
dull coarse black locks

what do you see?

 

40 thoughts on “NaPoWriMo 2017

  1. How pretty! I must say that I’m a little disappointed that I rhyme a lot. That is just my style, but I wish I could write your way. Maybe I could do that during NaPo. A while back, I was sitting outside and I wrote, how many, five poems?? All rhyming, of course, but now my whole idea writer’s (more like poet’s) block in April is CONQUERED and VANQUISHED. 😀 I’m sure I can do it now… And I’m even surer that you can!

    Liked by 1 person

The Mango Queen demands your opinions.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s