This is my poem for April 3rd. The prompt for International Poetry Month was, “what did you want to be when you were a teenager?” or “Teenage ambitions”.
Remember when we were young
We were created out of star dust,
and we were dreamers.
We ran down cobbled streets
in ball gowns, hand clasped,
swearing to be best friends
The nights we spent in your bedroom, scribbling stories
as records spun in their platter.
Music drifting over us,
I wanted to be a thousand miles
A thousand shades of
I wanted to be loved, understood.
(Soul searched and found worthy.)
I wanted poetry to be my mother
and language to be my father.
I wanted to birth scribbles
and pen lines that made people
sigh and weigh down their pockets
with stones so they wouldn’t float
on the beauty of my works.
I wanted a happiness that was
Not something that could be
blotted out or erased.
I wanted to be real.
Like, in the Velveteen Rabbit
sense of real. To be beautiful and never forgotten.
To not blink out and disappear
To be loved. To write words
that could change the world.