- Sia – Breathe Me
- Ed Sheeran – Give Me Love
- Lana Del Rey – Video Games
- Imagine Dragons – Demons
- Gabrielle Aplin – November
- Daughtry – September
- Birdy – Without a Word
- Daughter – Landfill
- Sia – Big Girls Cry
- Daughter – Youth
- The Lumineers – Charlie Boy
- Ed Sheeran – Photograph
- The Middle East – Blood
- Jeff Buckley – Hallelujah
- The Fray – How to Save a Life
- Coldplay – Yellow
- The Script – If You Ever Come Back
- London Grammar – Wasting My Young Years
- Florence and the Machine – Never Let Me Go
- Lucy Rose – Shiver
Tag: personal
An Ode To Natural Black Hair (a poem of appreciation by me)
originally posted on my poetry blog wildcharismaandwanderlust.wordpress.com
An Ode to Natural Black Hair
It looked like the devil’s hay,
A blazing inferno,
An untamable mane.
Bristly and dry,
A whorl of defiance,
Gravity wrangled.
Multiple snakes coiled,
Springing to life,
A tentacled being.
It looked like earth,
And weeds,
And the full richness of life.
A crown of fortitude,
A halo of ingenuity,
An afro of fiery glory.
Or just hair.
Girl, Bleeding (another poem by me)
originally posted on my personal blog, wildcharismaandwanderlust.wordpress.com
Girl, Bleeding
She was a girl, alone.
She felt like finger nails scratched across a chalkboard
The ingratiating screech of a banshee
The quiet that befalls a public execution
As the prisoner takes the lone walk to his imposing beheading.
She’s shrouded in a wave of insecurity, anxiety, dread.
The one who chokes herself to sleep
To elude darts being thrown at her head
She’s a target, a weakling, a sniveling wreck
Susceptible to the images that flash behind her eyelids at night.
She saw blood once,
It was a peaceful sight.
She had just wrung her wrists
And thought, stabbing them would be fun.
She really liked the color red.
She broke her legs
On the double edged sword
Of bitter lies and daggered hurt.
It poisoned her soul;
A drop of black on a canvas of red.
She’d wondered whether it was possible
To walk in a straight line
When your mind is running in zig-zags.
If you could bludgeon yourself to death
With your raw, twisted ankles.
The girl peeled back her fingers from her clenched fist
To tear out her own eyeballs.
So that she could never again see
His body, laid to rest
Pale and still and gone.
Masochist (a poem by me)
originally posted on my personal blog wildcharismaandwanderlust.wordpress.com
Masochist
I stumbled when I saw you the first time
You could say I fell for you
It was a combination of relentless summer heat
And the quiver in my throat
When I saw those raw blue knuckles
You looked up at me and smiled
With a veneer of the benign
But I saw those jagged teeth
And the corners of your mouth
That didn’t quite reach your eyes
It was a dance with death
My rosy cheeks set against your pallid jawline
That was so sharp it almost sliced my fingers
My nimble hands contrasted with your brass palms
A cacophonous orchestra
I was rum and you were vodka
Both intoxicating, but together, poison
One too sugary sweet and the other dry and wintery
You felt sour and tangy on my tongue
And left a bitter-sweet aftertaste
Maybe I’m masochistic
Because even though you tore me open
And ripped my lungs into threads
I loved breathing through a sea of blood
It was the only time I felt something
Politesse (a poem by me)
originally posted on my second, personal blog: wildcharismaandwanderlust.wordpress.com
Politesse
They were the type that
Knew what fork was for dessert
And held their manicured nails
Over their mouths when they laughed.
They had soft hands
That felt like velvet;
All the better for
Pinning their hair into tight buns.
They terrified me;
I could never hear them coming.
Their footfalls were too delicate;
Their voices too quiet.
My mother called them polite society.
But were they polite when
They smiled to my face
And giggled behind my back?
k. a-i.
Spring Break in France
I spent my spring break in France on a school-sponsored service trip. I went with thirteen other juniors and seniors from my school, George School. We lived with host families in Alsace and worked as teachers assistants for toddlers and little kids. I worked with three to five year olds in a creche called Jardin d’Enfants. I really got to practice my French a lot and it was a life-changing experience.
We were also in Paris for four days. We visited the Louvre, the Musee d’Orsay, Notre Dame, the Sacre-Coeur, and, of course, the Eiffel Tower, as well as going on a breathtaking boat ride of the RIver Seine on the Bateau Rouge and watching a comedic french play titled The Lesson or Le Lecon.
The weather was perfect heavenly considering it’s still snowing back in Newtown, Pennsylvania. It was so much warmer, and we got to shed our coats and big jackets most of the time. The weather got up to 70 degrees fahrenheit at a point. It was particularly beautiful in Paris! And in Alsace, flowers were blooming and spring was arriving.
I can safely say that I had the trip of a lifetime!
Outside the Louvre. I’m on the far left!
On the Eiffel Tower. I’m on the far left again minus one!