student poet

The longer you like someone,
The more you see their flaws.
The flaws that make them others run away.
But if you stay to like them,
Despite their flaws.
You know you no longer like them,
You love them.
Even if they do not.
—  || like to love

So where was I tonight?  I was at the CLE Urban Winery for “A Small Reading to Restore Hope and Sanity” - all to benefit ACLU of Ohio.  Learned a lot tonight and heard three wonderful writers/speakers…including this guy - De’ John Hardges, 2015 National Student Poet from here in Cleveland.  He is only 17 and he is amazing - one to watch for sure!

And @johnlloydyoungfriends - he was so happy when I mentioned PCAH and you…he actually started to tear up and said how grateful he is for the support all of you have given him and his fellow poets.  He is definitely a special and inspiring young man.  xo

I honestly wish, you didn’t appear in my life. Because even though you filled the emptiness in me, you left an even bigger hole when you left.
And now, I can’t find anyone that can fill it up, just the way you did.
—  myteacherlovelife
Day Three Hundred Ninety Nine.

All day
Words echo through my tired mind
Loud and violent
Without pause
Constant reminders 
That refuse to cease 
I am more
Than a number
I am more
Than what you make me out to be
I am more 
Stop putting me through
This endless torture
Stop telling me 
That I’m not

Walking homewards
As our feet synchronized,
passing familiar faces
of houses
and a conversation ensued,
I wondered whether
my eyes had been more on the screen
or the vague lines
of you, half-submerged
in the cinema darkness.
And then there we were,
two pairs of steps
walking along the river.
Our silhouettes a century old
and our souls perhaps older.
Between us a great distance
more pleasant than a greater closeness,
friendship is for masochists
and even below the ugliest of buildings
will bloom the bushes.

23rd March 2017 (49 Days of productivity): School is my life, I am the type of a person who needs to drown in work and if I’m not doing that, I swim further away from the shore… But everyone gets stressed every now and again. and when that happens, I write. Not to make something great, or pretty even, but to stay sane…

it’s four thirty when she finally gets home, exhausted, back and feet aching. she kicks off her shoes, drops down on the bed next to you and closes her eyes. “bad day?” you ask, sympathetically. “great day,” she replies. she falls asleep in minutes, still wearing her dress and blazer. you know she shouldn’t take a nap, but you can’t wake her when she looks so peaceful.

it’s almost seven and she hasn’t had dinner yet. there’s a lesson plan being typed up on her laptop and tests sprawled out all over your bed. you get out of the shower and see that there is no place for you to sit. but she looks so focused, her lip caught between her teeth and a red marker behind her ear. you quietly gather up your clothes and get changed in the bathroom.

you offer her an iced tea; she drinks nearly half the bottle in one go, not realizing how thirsty she had been. you remind her to drink more water and she promises she will, but you know she’ll probably forget. it’s okay if she does.

the now graded test papers are tucked away safely in her bag and she’s finally changed into something more comfortable than tights. she’ll shower in the morning, and you’ll happily join her even if that means the two of you have to wake up an hour earlier than usual.

she’s up until almost eleven talking your ear off about her students - all twenty two of them. you know all of their names even though you haven’t set foot inside of her classroom yet. you listen carefully as she babbles on and on about each and every one of them with all of the love in the world.

she comes home one day, four thirty on the dot, with tears rolling down her face. “he did it,” she tells you. “he did his homework” and she bursts into tears telling you the story of the boy who doesn’t have the best home life and how he doesn’t always bring in his homework, but today he did and she’s so proud and so happy that she can’t stop crying, even as you kiss her hair and hold her close. “i’m so proud of you,” you tell her and she kisses you until you can’t breathe.

date night is coming up, the two of you have been planning for this outing all week. however she doesn’t look excited, in fact she looks a little nervous. maybe guilty even? you finally ask her what’ wrong, and she blurts out “i don’t think we can go out tonight anymore” you’re instantly worried - is she sick? is everything okay? without another word, she leads you outside to her car. she pops the trunk to reveal at least five puffy winter coats, a pair of boots, a backpack, and a box of folders. you don’t have it in your heart to be even the slightest bit annoyed with her, and you hug her so tightly, kissing the space beneath her ear.

instead of a rendezvous out on the town, you both find yourselves in the bathtub complete with a bath bomb and enough bubbles to cover the both of you. there’s a glass of wine for the both of you (well, mostly you because you know she won’t finish her glass even though she insists she will) and she leans back against you, an arm wrapped around her waist. she sighs contently, her eyes fluttering shut, and she whispers “i love you more than anything and everything” and after all this time, she still gives you butterflies.

—  class is in session: Dating An Elementary School Teacher 101
(cc, 2016)

Dead Poets Society (1989)


hi there simblr! josephine marie braswell. most people call me jo or jojo.

i’m a 20 year old manhattanite Columbia student, coffee addicted poet who strums the guitar(you can catch me playing a gig or at open mic nite at my campus coffee shop from time to time.) complete bookworm who’s obsessed with overcast days. much of the time i’m an introvert by choice spending a lot of time on my own. i suppose liking my solitude is part of a writers sensibility. 

Smart people always choose comfort over luxury

if you want to get to know me better please message me i would love to make some friends on here :)

Concept: College is over. I got the job I wanted. My tuition is fully paid off. The birds are singing and I can stop to listen instead of rushing to class. I can treat myself all I want.
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, Once A Day (59/366)

Typewriter Poetry #996 by James Andrew Crosby

lecture boredom poem

How does one know what to do with their life,

As far as we can prove you only have one,

Can you imagine yourself as someone in the future?

Can you see a specific path ahead?

There are many things in life we do not know,

Not knowing can be a gift,

But also, a curse.

The blissfully unaware hours between the death of a loved one,

And being told is a gift many don’t appreciate,

As they were unaware they did not know

And once they do they forget they ever didn’t.

However, not knowing what path your life will take is both curse, and gift

In your younger years, it causes panic and fear

What if you never realise?

What must you do?

What must you learn?

Just what?

But surely life being mysterious is also a gift,

If one knew every detail of how life would work, then it would get boring

On the other hand, could life please tell me what the fuck I’m doing????

I have no fucking clue.

- im a poet lads