Growing up Poems
Playing House
by Kara Prince
I used to dote on my baby dolls. I cooked the finest plastic cuisines for anyone who would pretend to taste. I didn’t feel compelled to clean back then. And I was never Mama or Mrs., even then, I knew those names were not for me.
Somewhere through the years, maybe at my best friend’s parents’ kitchen table, or on the firm couch I spent exactly 50 minutes on a week, I realized I was not playing anymore. I cooked to survive and cleaned for medicinal purposes. The house ran well, but there was no playing.
So, for the third time, I let you back in. Together we play house, you cook daunting meals, I clean up after board games, and we dote on our friends' dogs. I know I’ll never be Mama, that neither of us is the marrying kind, and that I can survive going back to just running things, so for as long as we can, let's just keep playing house.
The Mirror Says No
by Megan Nguyen
Am I beautiful?
Your daughter asks.
Her birthday was two days ago,
Six candles on top of
Sugary pink frosting.
She grinned then, with
The sun in her eyes,
Because nothing else mattered,
......
The Christmas Lights Stopped Sparkling
by Dylan Tiffany
17, an adult but still a kid
Given adult responsibility but a kid’s say in their future
Parents still try to control your destiny
Not seeing that they are clipping your wings and closing windows
At this age you are a bird in a cage waiting to fly
Someone tell the birdkeeper to open this bird’s cage
This newfound adulthood comes with a unique perk
Christmas is different now…
The lights don’t sparkle anymore
......
To My Family
by Dylan Tiffany
Thank you for all that you’ve done for me
I truly appreciate it all and wouldn’t be here without it
But what someone like me, someone with dreams that lie in the sky,
Can never forgive is
How you clipped my wings
Tied me to a post
Tried to stop me from flying
Kept me on a leash, because if I go too far I might get hurt
Or I might just realize that the grass is greener
......
Home; Address
by Kara Prince“I made it home safe!” That text was a lie. Yes, I am safe, but I am not home. The weather app says it's cloudy, but I must scroll to a new city to see the same sun outside my window. I never know what to say when the receptionist asks for my permanent address. I could give the meaningless string of numbers that decorate the front porch of my leased space, but they asked about my home. Home is where my father etched my name into the still-wet concrete that boasted countless chalk masterpieces. Home is where my mother notched out the only proof that I was once the bigger sibling. Home is where I had a brother I could scream at through a slammed door, not schedule a call with from hundreds of miles apart. Where I live now boasts wine glasses and brie, and yet I am hungry for home, with its expired condiments and cozy mess.
Continue readingThe Christmas Lights Stopped Sparkling
by Dylan Tiffany
17, an adult but still a kid
Given adult responsibility but a kid’s say in their future
Parents still try to control your destiny
Not seeing that they are clipping your wings and closing windows
At this age you are a bird in a cage waiting to fly
Someone tell the birdkeeper to open this bird’s cage
This newfound adulthood comes with a unique perk
Christmas is different now…
The lights don’t sparkle anymore
......
To My Family
by Dylan Tiffany
Thank you for all that you’ve done for me
I truly appreciate it all and wouldn’t be here without it
But what someone like me, someone with dreams that lie in the sky,
Can never forgive is
How you clipped my wings
Tied me to a post
Tried to stop me from flying
Kept me on a leash, because if I go too far I might get hurt
Or I might just realize that the grass is greener
......
Playing House
by Kara Prince
I used to dote on my baby dolls. I cooked the finest plastic cuisines for anyone who would pretend to taste. I didn’t feel compelled to clean back then. And I was never Mama or Mrs., even then, I knew those names were not for me.
Somewhere through the years, maybe at my best friend’s parents’ kitchen table, or on the firm couch I spent exactly 50 minutes on a week, I realized I was not playing anymore. I cooked to survive and cleaned for medicinal purposes. The house ran well, but there was no playing.
So, for the third time, I let you back in. Together we play house, you cook daunting meals, I clean up after board games, and we dote on our friends' dogs. I know I’ll never be Mama, that neither of us is the marrying kind, and that I can survive going back to just running things, so for as long as we can, let's just keep playing house.
Home; Address
by Kara Prince“I made it home safe!” That text was a lie. Yes, I am safe, but I am not home. The weather app says it's cloudy, but I must scroll to a new city to see the same sun outside my window. I never know what to say when the receptionist asks for my permanent address. I could give the meaningless string of numbers that decorate the front porch of my leased space, but they asked about my home. Home is where my father etched my name into the still-wet concrete that boasted countless chalk masterpieces. Home is where my mother notched out the only proof that I was once the bigger sibling. Home is where I had a brother I could scream at through a slammed door, not schedule a call with from hundreds of miles apart. Where I live now boasts wine glasses and brie, and yet I am hungry for home, with its expired condiments and cozy mess.
Continue readingThe Mirror Says No
by Megan Nguyen
Am I beautiful?
Your daughter asks.
Her birthday was two days ago,
Six candles on top of
Sugary pink frosting.
She grinned then, with
The sun in her eyes,
Because nothing else mattered,
......
