by Ireliss Gascot
Honking, breaking, slamming and screeching;
All are automotive sounds of the city.
Walking home from the café filled with
People laughing, coffee steaming and fingers tapping away at laptops
A different world emerges from this.
One that you can get lost in.
You don’t seem to notice that streets are filled with:
The homeless begging, Trash making it’s way on to the street,
And the strange people waiting in alleys for their fix.
On a dark night you just keep walking as you do on any other day;
Thinking about the food you smell from house to house,
And listening to the stoop people spilling nonsense gossip out their mouths.
The roads are empty,
No cars,just people.
As you look around at your environment you notice even more
That the person behind you has been walking in your very steps;
For the past few grimy blocks.
His hand then seems to make its way on your neck and
You cry, howl, shriek and yell.
It’s in not a familiar or friendly hand.
Its rough, cold and to it your skin is inviting.
This hand is here to sweep you off the face of the earth.
People watch as they sit shocked on their porches,
Watching the event the second story window
As if time has stopped just see you lie there
With little hope you have for help
You start to melt into the earth,
The trash you saw becomes part on you
Even the dirty steps you took embrace you.
And the guilt that the people hold is you.
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By: Ireliss Gascot
Like the stem of a flower,
a mammal, or any living creature;
Poetry has one.
It supports the flow and the rhythm;
They act as our heart and lungs.
It’s the power of the words,
the core of a body.
Each stanza needs balance,
the meaning is like two feet to stand on.
The sounds work together,
to not let the poem tip over.
Every word in every line shows an emotion.
Angry, happiness, sympathy;
As if it were a person telling you a story
Adding effect to
every stanza, every breath.
Little compartments that
hold memories that can not be told
by words alone but in phrases.
Deep within the mind;
Long term and short.
Like all things it connects
Reader to listener,
two halves for a whole.
Sending messages to every person,
to anyone who hears its voice.
Where I’m from
By Ireliss Gascot
I’m from the island that stole my grandparent’s heart,
rice and tasteful cakes;
antique jewelry and old furniture.
I’m from old music, Buddy Holly and Frank Sinatra.
I’m from the concrete jungle with too many cafes,
art galleries that hold overpriced art,
shortcuts and “easy ways out”.
I’m from random hellos and unfamiliar goodbyes.
I’m from car rides and loud sounds,
silly teenage society,
faulty economies and low paying jobs.
I’m from technology and made up slang.
I’m from paint and color,
blank canvas’ with scribble lines,
sentences that don’t make sense and words that spill out.
I’m from wonder and free will.
On The Pursuit Of Thought
By Ireliss Gascot
Thinking of a poem
walking on my way home
on this very cold day;
knowing my words won’t come this way.
My teeth can’t stop from chattering
I can’t keep myself from stuttering
and this all just has me wondering
“How will this poem come ‘bout?”
in my brain I have so much doubt.
Maybe the words will spill out if I shout!
Though my scream will not be heard
since this little bird
is squawking loudly at a herd.
I try to jump on the Train Of Thought
but where are the tickets I bought?
It’s supposed to bind me to the words that I’m thinking.
I see its light blinking
while all I’m doing is simply sinking
in a quick sand lake.
All of me it can not take
for goodness sake!
In my head I hold on tight
with all of my might
I really shouldn’t really be putting on a fight;
and just let my thoughts swallow me whole.
“Please just leave my soul.”
the only thing I will plead;
my soul will always lead
like a young sturdy steed.
This all makes me believe that my mind is against me.
It was suppose to be a normal day in the sorority and the girls were getting ready for a benefit. Julie who was head of the house couldn’t be found anywhere. They looked all over the house and May and Jo looked in the art building near the campus. She wasn’t anywhere. It was out of the ordinary and the girls didn’t know what to do. They walked back to the house and noticed that all the other girls had left or just disappeared.
“What is going on? Is this a joke!” screamed May while looking behind doors, under beds and in closets hoping to find them.
“I really don’t think it’s a joke because I don’t see people outside anymore.” Said Jo really worried looking out the window. They walked outside and around the campus again. They couldn’t see the people they passed earlier.
“How could the whole…wait I think see someone!” Jo ran to the door and saw a person peeking out . It must have been the only person who didn’t just vanish.
“Hello? Do you know what’s happening? What’s your name?” May asked.
“I’m Jake, and I have no idea I was writing a story about two girls being left alone on earth and my teacher and everyone in here just vanished.”
“What happens in your story?” Jo asked curiously.
“Well it starts out in a sorority….” Jake started to explain.
The girls must have seen a ghost because their faces went pale.