Poems by girl named ben
small laugh
-----------
the small laugh
of my bead curtain
is not unlike
the song trapped inside
my mother's rainstick
which only mimics
the footprints of rain
on a roof, a forehead
a sidewalk
these sounds
move me to tears
they remind me of the day
you kissed me and stroked my hair
and whispered to me
that love was only for the lucky
and you never had
that good of luck, anyway
my mother rubbed my back
and said you can't make someone
feel something they don't
as if i was five
and didn't understand
about things that
need to be mutual
the rain kissed your shoulders
when you closed the door.
your hands
----------
your hands
shaking
toying with a hole in your pants
tangling in your own hair
occupying themselves
i remember them well
they were more confident
in caresses
more controlled
but the same restlessness
never ended
never fell away
like petals from a rose
to expose
a more confident
caress
i can still see
your hands
entangled in my hands
in my hair
divine
------
i embrace your divinity
and become illuminated from within
like you are
my image becomes perfection
like yours is
my eyes see everything
and nothing
great orbs of all-knowing
blue unlike the sky
i float in ecstacy
above the human agony
i know all
yet change nothing
now i am divine like you
weight of my blood
------------------
the weight of my blood
rests heavily on me
when i remember
our downtown china tuesdays
where we were the tallest people
for blocks
we'd buy lychees in
open fruit markets, and
ducks
from spits in windows
we'd go home
to our small apartment
and eat
like we were trying to forget
that we were paupers,
pretending to be kings.
you once bought a paper dragon
and wove it into my hair,
which then had no choice
but to flutter like a caged bird
cause it was no longer free
mohammed ali
------------
mohammed ali
gave me a hug
today
told me my hair was
getting long
i said to him
that's what happens
when you forget
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Biographical sketch: My name isn't actually ben, it's arinn
westendorf. I've been writing for quite a
few years, and i'm only 16. I'm pretty artsy--i love writing, art and
music.
girl named ben recommends:
Collected poems 1959-1968 by Leonard Cohen
Reason: I love Leonard Cohen because it seems to me that
he can make the most banal experience eloquent, and because some of
his shorter pieces border on minimalism, which i really enjoy as a form
of poetry.
Recommendations for writers:
I think it's most important to write what you want about, and how
you want, not how people say it should be done. Don't worry about getting
it right. Just write what's inside.
