Category Archives: poetry

Here is where you’ll categorize poetry posts during your field study. A minimum goal is one poem per week, 4 total, posted by Monday PM midnight. One of your four poems must be posted in a “Poetry Observed” video format ( The goal is to perform your poetry in situ—within the context of your passionate immersion.

F ~ Poem

Internal pain

a constant constriction

positioned where I cannot see

where I cannot know


which leades to hyper-awareness, constant thought

and question focused inward

I feel week

I feel confused


I am sensitive

and vulnerable.

I want so badly to curl up

yet I am restricted to my right side.


I wonder what is festering of growing inside of me,

cells forming,

impossible life?

Bacteria, pain


In this moment I do not feel whole

let me say that the physical pain is not excruciating or unbearable but the mental effects are deafening.

F ~ Poem

Soil Sun and Sleep are my Holy Words

A whispered rush of blows


wind          blown   tissue paper petals

dissolve is swelling


this is my keeping of time

where the

unraveling of


measures my months

(I adore that line)

and the forming of rigid ribs tells me that spring is near,

as is the diminishing of my locks.

Ms – Poetry of Smell – Of Coffee and Candles

No cheaper way to start the day but powerful and wakes you. u

Smokey rooms, bars, and dark hallways,

vapors sliding past each other. ©

Alone, with loved ones,

bitter lingering. ¤

Memories of wax and warm chocolate nights. ῼ

And a fruit-like perfume my mother sometimes wore. ¥

In comes the scent, out goes the stress. o

Playing chess, being comfy, and an old coffee shop,

in my hometown. ⱴ

Naming: Coffee, Coffee, Candel (First off I can’t spell), Candal,

late night TV benders. Ѭ

Agitated, nervous. Reminds me of walking into Yankee Candles in the mall,

I hate malls. Ю

Cruddy coffee scents tingle my dry nose hole,

other people’s breath. EW. Ҩ

Like a small business opened by and indisputably ‘perky’ woman,

post-sorority, one part coffee shop, one part scrapbooking boutique. Ѿ

Home on 45th street, hanging upside-down on the couch,

I realized then how hard she worked to take care of me. ҉















**This poem is a cento created from the brilliance that is our class. Many of these lines were powerful or spoke to me in some way. Thank you all for sharing your poetic abilities to create such an interesting patchwork. **

a bit

A listless expression hangs upon my face,
I feel nothing, my fingers dance in
the void. Why am I this way?
am I not real, is that the rhyme
and reason for why I feel
so cut and dry?
am I trying to hide something
from myself?