kpk poetry

If I should have a son
Instead of naming him after
A great-grandfather he will never meet
I’m going to name him after someone who
Reminds me of the way that
Even though the sun is nearly 93 million miles away
We still can’t look directly at it
Because my son is going to be
Nothing short of illuminating
And if I should have a son
I will paint kind sentiments over his knuckles
So he always knows to use his words
Before he uses his fists
And when my son doesn’t let me cut his hair
And instead chooses to let it droop into his eyes
I will let him
Because sometimes the world makes a little more sense
When you’re seeing it through strands, not magnifying glasses
And when the other parents gasp at me
For letting him ride his bike without a helmet
Or cheering him on while he tries to flip over the rusty top of the swing set
I will tune them out
Because I know that a bruised forehead
Hurts a hell of a lot less than a bruised ego
If I should have a son
I will wait until the blood and the marrow in his bones
Have been sucked out and replaced with sorrow
Before I tell him that heartbreak is supposed to feel like this
And even though she may have been his sea
He might just need to look inside a puddle
And every time my son inhales
I will teach him to smell for rain
Because that is the first sign of flowers
And anyone who says they don’t need more color in their life is lying
If I should have a son
I will put a baseball bat in his left hand
And ballet slippers in his right
And tell him he doesn’t have to decide between doors number one and two
That the only thing in front of him is a gate, and it’s wide open
If I should have a son
I will stand tall above him with a sword and a spear
One to slice through his troubles
And one to stab through his fears
And since I’m standing with two weapons
He will have to be the shield
And the blows that slip through my steel grip
Will push at him like a roaring tide
But if I should have a son
I will teach him to push back like he is the moon
And he is their master
And if I should have a son
And he decides to leave
I will bid him adieu
But I will always set an extra plate at the dinner table
And have a mug of hot cocoa – the kind with extra chocolate – waiting for him
Because no matter how many unmarked pathways he chooses to cross
He will always belong to his mother


Inspired by Sarah Kay’s “B”

Poetry: search no more!

Sometimes it’s hard to find good poets so I’ve made a list for people who, like me, love poetry but can’t always find enough or the right kind for your mood.

  • Christopher Poindexter; his Universe and Her and I series is my favourite; recently published his book Naked Human and i can’t wait to read it
  • Tyler Knott Gregson; his typewriter series poems are lovely; also does blackout poetry; published his first book Chasers of the Light (i have a copy and it’s wonderful); he also does a daily haiku on love
  • Rupi Kaur; i read some of her poetry more in-depth recently and it’s quite alluring; published book called Milk and Honey
  • Robert M. Drake; has published multiple books including his most recent that was published in August 2015: Beautiful Chaos; i haven’t read a lot of his poetry other than the wonders that came up on my Pinterest feed but i will definitely do so soon
  • KPK; ipoetried on tumblr; a romantic poet; some of her stuff is hard to find but there’s quite a bit on Pinterest and no doubt a whole lot on tumblr
  • CP; i have no idea what their initials stand for but their poetry is beautiful; much harder to find when you don’t know who they are but i can usually recognize that it’s CP from the format on Pinterest
  • Gaby Compres; poetry usually found in italic font and signed G.C.; i think having her poetry in italics is a great was to describe her poetry itself, i think it’s positively lovely
  • Michael Faudet; i love his poem Sunday Epiphany and many of his other poems as well; he has an interesting structure to a lot of his poems because he uses a hanging indent
  • It’s midnight so I’ll stop here for now and I may make a part 2 to this list another time. If you would like more recommendations, never hesitate to ask. 
Your first love ending is the feeling of the car door slamming on your fingers, and as it drives away with your half-ended tendons, you can’t help but think about how beautifully the light reflects off the hood. Your first love leaving is the sound the paintbrush makes as it cracks into two pieces right before the brushstroke that makes an artwork into a masterpiece. Your first love hurting you is the rush of the water down the bathtub drain, sinking sinking sinking like a pile of stones in the pit of your stomach, before disappearing forever simply because you no longer think about it. Your final love is the feeling of a symphony orchestra playing your heartstrings like a harpsichord to the tune of the song that never fails to turn your lover’s lips upwards like a sunset that happened to flip itself on its back to reveal its pink belly to the world. Your final love is the sound of the robins singing their good mornings outside the bedroom window as you open your eyes against their neck at the crack of dawn, before pulling them closer and slipping back under. Your final love leaving is with a note that says “see you tonight for dinner, I love you, be safe” and you tuck it in your breast pocket because that’s the closest you can touch it to your heart and you start heating up the oven because you are so excited to kiss their cheeks that night.