Ode to Nutella

You are ecstasy in a jar


of the pantry in my home


out when you touch my lips


as spoon meets tongue


a term some might use


the music when you're gone


becoming dim as night


of taste buds delivers chills


over to mind and heart


for grocery store post haste


your sapor like words do a poem


the spirit like sunlight after a


© 2015 abruvanamedsly


Dear Dreamer

Dear Dreamer,

You will become an adult
long before comprehending
what it means to be a child;
don't let this scare you;
it will give you strength
others will envy.

You will live in places
where empty shell casings
litter the ground like 
discarded sunflower seed hulls;
just remember how 
to breathe between
the sound of firing bullets.

You will witness countless
police tape sunsets,
don't let blood shimmering
on the concrete reflect your future.

You will suffer heartache
that never leaves;
learn how to circumnavigate
its evolving.

It's going to be okay to cry
even when no one is watching;
tears will water your resolve.

Don't forget how to lie in
the grass, stretch out your arms
and place your fingers in soil;
for this is how you will feel the
heartbeats of your ancestors.

Look up at the night sky often,
for watching moonlight fold
into an origami sunrise
will help your imagination grow.

Women will try to seduce
your mind, body and spirit;
learn how to kiss fire
while hugging an inferno.

You will tightrope walk
through a world
that wants to see you fall;
make it mad that you have balance.

Most of all have the
courage to fail;
it will remind you success 
is the only option.

© 2014 abruvanamedsly


Poetry Be Like...

Poetry be like...

crumpled paper and broken pencils at 2am

sharp daggers of empty stabbing a wounded soul

stanzas scraping against the roof of memories

the space between imagination and the inevitable

a burning heart whose embers scorch throat and tongue

everything I need to say but won't

the inside of my grandma's steamer trunk

the sound of a growing oak tree

creaks and pops from old vinyl records

erect nipples

hands speaking to a soft belly

stretch marks on curves that eat moonlight

a baby's first grasp at its parent's finger

a death row inmate's last meal

the ghost of lynched bodies

Shaft on 125th street

velvet paintings of cordova love

nag champa incenses

toes licking foreign soil

sunrises on unfamiliar sand

broken book pages

the sky


© 2014 abruvanamedsly

Poetry Alone

SONNET: Love Notes

Their relationship was romantic rage,
his punches love notes to her face;
blood, the ink dripping from the page,
lines she wish she could secretly erase.

Cursive and italics all over her body,
ribs usually highlighted in bold font;
friends and family inquire like literati,
her answers are always nonchalant.

He constantly begs for her forgiveness,
making the notes sting a little less,
explosive scribblings a painful business,
especially on the inside of her chest.

Tears stain jottings current and past,
wondering which note will be his last.

© 2014 abruvanamedsly



What I Am

Yesterday at a writing workshop some fellow poets and myself were given a prompt asking us to write a piece beginning each line with I am...I've done it before but it's still good practice...

I am sleepy

I am steadfast

I am (a)studious

I am a bad speller

I am late nights and early mornings

I am insomnia's whore

I am promiscuous

I am lying

I am concrete and silk

I am rainwater

I am son of djembe and cousin to lighting

I am antiquated stardust

I am a searcher

I am spinning wheels

I am stuck

I am broken trajectory

I am talking mud

I am concealed brilliance

I am a placeholder for bullet fragments

I am a target

I am hated

I am loved

I am envied

I am the future.

© 2014 abruvanamedsly

Fin Redux (30/30)

The final prompt for NaPoWriMo was to write a poem of farewell...I'm not good at goodbyes, so I kinda turned this poem into an continuation piece...

a month of writing

decays into yesterday;

the lifetime continues.

© 2014 abruvanamedsly


April Rain (29/30)

The prompt for day 29 over at NaPoWriMo was to take the elements of Twenty Little Poetry Projects and attempt to use them all in one piece...this is what I came up with...

hump day tsunami

tap dances on life like eggshells on ants

shaky eyes lick the wet wind

as if squall was kool-aid

North Capitol street becomes

a sad night during the day

which gets me guh;

was it raining because she was crying?

maybe brightness will return tomorrow

we gonna learn today

why curved thunder breaks spirits

muddying warm woolgathering

Junebugs love to be in these moments

building dry bridges

out of trash and resolve

weeping clouds hum

azul es el color del rojo cielo

sunlight attends an all day movie festival

feet pirouette in a flooded ballet

monsoon washes away sins and monkeys.

© 2014 abruvanamedsly


The Call (28/30)

The prompt for day 28 over at NaPoWriMo was to find a news article and write a poem using mostly, if not only words from the article. Since it being National Poetry Month and all, this article from The New York Times seemed to suffice...

poetry month asked

the city about syllables;

strangers provided


© 2014 abruvanamedsly