Feb Poetry Slam

messy thoughts

Mornings have warmed up and nights stay balmy later than they have in a while. Hot coffee switched for ice and jackets for sweatshirts. Scarves for haircuts. Dreary cafes to hide away in now appear vibrant with the hope that spring beckons.

You step in side and the room is just falling quiet as crinkled paper and footsteps make their way to the stage.

Welcome to the Messy Poetry Slam.


i still remember the day that i realized i wasn’t sure if we would always be forever. it was the day i began to notice that the roses in your cheeks were starting to wilt. it was the night that i realized your cold fingers were searching for more than another hand to hold. it was the late kitchen floor conversation that you confessed to me that you wanted  more than just infamy and loose change to fill your coat pockets. it was the night i realized that we no longer fit together in the way we always had. when i finally admitted the reason to myself, i was saturated in guilt for not knowing it sooner. we had always been on separate paths, being one masterpiece while still maintaining our independence. but at some point, our paths no longer ran next to each other. our backs were turned and we had our eyes locked on different things. i was seeing the world. you were seeing yourself. we equally knew something was laying between our pulsing bodies at night, no matter how tightly i wrapped you in my arms. there had been something there for a while, keeping us just on the edge of how we used to be. but our eyes had allowed themselves to be blind to what separated us. i still saw stars when you smiled. i still felt safe with your hands combing through my hair. i still loved you to a place far beyond words. so when our backs turned to face each other, our blind eyes couldn’t see the change in weather, though we felt it on our skin. you and i were always headed in the same direction, our paths perfectly paralleled. but we were idle. we were wrapped up in our own world of love and soft touches that we had created for ourselves. we needed so desperately to move, in one direction or another. we needed to discover the world. we needed to discover ourselves. it turned out that we needed to take those journeys in different orders. you needed to create yourself before trying to know anything else. and i needed to see the world before trying to find my place in it.

i still see stars when you smile. i still love you to a place far beyond words. maybe somewhere down the road, our paths will line up again as we transition from one place of growth to the next.

that day that our eyes opened to find our backs against each other, you whispered to me before we walked in opposite directions, that you had finally figured out what you wanted this new journey to be. you wanted to grow a garden in your mind and teach yourself how to water it for the rest of your life. starting with the roses in your cheeks.

“I Miss You”
I feel an incredible absence in the place your company would fill inside of me. although it’s been a while, I still sporadically fall into helpless cycles of reminisce on the ways in which you’d once made me feel. your disappearance was, at first, heartbreaking, but eventually appreciated, as it taught me how to grow on my own and not feel the need to lean on others. now, I have gone through that, and still seem to obsess over you. to say ‘I miss you’ would be a deficient description of my feelings.

-Suzanne Treeby


Unfinished to do lists,

Smell of cold tobacco,

You left your cigarettes on my window,

I can still feel the wine on my lips,

You aren’t here anymore-
I still feel it,

Clean clothes cover my floor while I wait,

What for? I’m not even sure.

The silence doesn’t consume me anymore

the brackets you left open for me to close-
not longer wide open, but, still open.

stop relating to the sappy love songs I made a whole playlist of

I forget your birthday

our ritual, understanding, knowing, communicating

and the lyrics to the song

I can’t even remember the sound of your smile

Happy and content as I’ve never known myself to be

I set myself free and

finally live the life that was meant for me.

-Caroline blackburn

“Slowly Falling”
I think I’m falling for him.
His lips on my forehead, kissing me protectively, give me the certainty of his presence.
I’m not quite in love yet, I don’t think, but I’m slowly falling.
I’m falling in love with the everyday, with him next to me.
No more butterflies in my stomach, but the steadiness of a deep relationship.
I’m slowly falling into this new reality, our relationship growing stronger and stronger.
It’s not quite love, yet.
But I don’t want to stop.
I’m slowly falling.
-Alice Maggioni
“Woman is me”
You hunt for me like a lion hunts its prey.
I am here to please you and all your needs.
We, as humans, do not co-exist.
I am less than you.
Seen as an element of happiness for the mere seconds that you need me.
I am nothing but a tool in your eyes.
I am equivalent to a piece of trash lying on the ground.
You see me as your doormat.
You look at me the way my dog looks at food.
A creation far different from yours.
The lumps of tissue mounted on my chest don’t define me.
The size of my ass isn’t the matter of the fact.
I am more than the length of my hair, the color of my skin, the language I speak or the weight of my body.
I am a human being.
A creation of God.
I am a living, breathing, feeling, everyday thinking woman.
I am not your toy.
I am not yours.
I belong to myself.
I am me.

“Blue petals”


She loves rain.

It makes her feel that the sky has feelings…

That he loves something so much he cries

Sometimes all day…sometimes only for a moment…

But she can sense his love.

She embraces it

She listens while he’s crying

She lets her hair down

He loves it when her hair is down

And he cries even more

Because he is an endless blue

Because he wants to be a human more than ever

Because she loves him even when he is cloudy and moody

Because she thinks that he is even more beautiful when he cries…

Because when she listens

He rewards her with rainbows and rosy sunsets

Endless days of love under the sun…



What are you afraid of the most
Of the wild coyotes that hollower at you
Under the waxing moon
Cacti puncturing soft marble skin
The blood drips off you
Like water drips off the rabbit’s hair
As the wagon chugs down the road
A dog the color of the waxing moon
chases it like a bee chases the swift hand
stealing honey comb from a bee’s hostel
Do not faint under the pain of the heat
It’s Santa Fe’s greeting
Climb its mountains
Paint its scenes
Its Santa Fe’s greetings
Goodnight and sweet dreams
-Ravyn Sanford


My youth

is technicolor.
Dirty lips

and day-old lovers

flashing in artificial hues.
To see these colors

meant to exist

in more era than one.
But your skin was printed

inside my eyes

in shades of grey

and hand-me-down blue

and I thought

if this is adolescence

I had found it in you.

-Sarah Kearns
I crave what is

give me something
that’s not on a screen
that I can touch
with my own hands
scrape with my own nails
messy and sticky and loud
unable  to be deleted
with the tap of a button
show me something
unfocused and hazy
a moment free of perfection
that captures brutal honesty
not just what we want others to see
tell me something
from your own vocal cords
screaming words so true
my eardrums burst
something I don’t have to screenshot
to remember
-Rosannah Gosser

S E N D   U S   Y O U R   P O E M S



T A G   U S   I N   T H E M




  1. This month for me was nostalgic, very nostalgic. I can’t stop thinking of summer sunsets on my balcony, freshly out of the shower with tan skin and wet hair, smoking a cigarette while waiting for the moon to come out in all its beauty.


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