summer poems
tara kaur
a glance into what goes on in my head in summer
COPYRIGHT © [2024]
[Tara
Kaur Sachar]
doctor doctor, stop prescribing all these meds what side effects did you expect?
I’m rocking back and forth i do not have a place where I feel safe, not even my body on this earth I don’t know if I can make this work i am feeling like I’m in a tornado of sorts sometimes in the eye sometimes in the storm but now I’m being bounced around like a little worm and it couldn’t get any worse. —why was I not cured but cursed?
just admit you hate me because I am a woman my blood is not inferior nor is my skin any less thick nor do I bleed some odd neon color when I do it is red just like yours maybe I am not sick, but society is contrary to popular belief I can heal the destruction and invoke relief —I will aid others with what I have
ecstasy can live in trees but only if you let it
so draw in your dream journals and dance in the breeze and write it all down before you forget
the little things are always big and glimmers of hope do exist and with a perspective shift even the the darkness can lift. and I know it’s a heavy weight but just try to investigate the roots of the trees, of yourself, And may they hold up with incredible stability.
to be free from the wreckage what a dream dear moon can you bring it to me can you make me believe I know you hear my screams my cries i know you don’t want my demise So let me step in your shoes Moon I love you in all your phases —but why do people seem to pick and choose with mine?
i want to be exquisite i want people to visit often
and I like my black tea in the morning you see and if a friend comes and smokes a bowl I light up like the weed
I’m a simple person with many different versions inside that bloom
I’ve been screaming since I was out of the womb but I’ve also been kind and helped a lot of people i believe in the divine but my beliefs are very fluid my colors shine truest when I’m with the people I love —some parts of me are bad but I think I make up for it with the hearts I touch.
isn’t it ironic how small the stars are —yet they make me feel even smaller look at the light glimmer and glisten you don’t have to listen to be found by them
i will not stay afraid nor ashamed you are the only one to be blamed and damn the ones who try to pour the water on the flames you do not desire to play with my fire
Mother Earth is on my side
We share the same passion we got that zest for life and good does not always prevail that’s why we have to fight but at least my vocal chords will never grow bored Of speaking my truth over and over and my voice may waver in pitch as they scream what a bitch but I promise you that steadily it will come back and hit twice as hard —my whole life has been a process of losing and finding that voice again and again.
my lips are not fluent in silence i will create dances with my words you will wonder why you ever failed to fear a woman before
i do not need to be gentle I should not need to cover my words in sweet rose scented lies wrap them in glitter and call it a night instead I’ll say free Palestine
I was meant to speak my mind i was meant to raise hell and cry because it means I have felt what was meant to be dealt with
may all wars end may all humans be free it’s not a new sentiment but one close to me if you have to kill people to win your chances of getting into heaven are slim And god will not grant you peace for hurting their kin
and if I could transfer this scent to you I’d send it a million times I’m taking a bath, while missing the wine, But trying to be healthier and honoring my divine
and I thought to myself I love my life sometimes and it was the first time I had ever thought that -and that is how I know I am healing slowly but surely
i want to write
But what spite flows from this weapon they call a mouth I think god fucked up honestly
put a little too much of mr anger in the mix i call him mr anger now and imagine him a silly little character it’s hard to stay mad when you are being ridiculous
Venom , poison my words are a weapon I’ve used as armor for as long as I remember November will always be terribly sour but maybe it’s not so and from this point I can still grow They tell me I’m young but what does that even mean when I can’t balance the plates I’m holding They shatter on the ground things are always shattering with me and the pieces cant be glued because they can’t be found. And do you know the work it takes to put together pieces of something that you can’t find.
feeling stuck and trapped often stifling my true colors in public who am really?
a chameleon with good intentions?
And I see you in a cloud of smoke when I take a toke
I see the flashbacks as if it were yesterday why are all my poems about rape i see you when it’s time to sulk I see you don’t have to carry the bulk of this load it’s all on me let me grieve for five seconds dear mind seize the thoughts stop the wickedness was I always this cursed was I born at birth doomed to the earth for a particular reason was it just the season for me to learn they say trauma makes you stronger I think it makes you burn.
glass doesn’t decompose for around a million years and I wonder if trauma is like that too being transported from place to place body to body soul to soul until it is dealt with and maybe nothing can be destroyed and it has to co-exist with me because maybe its a losing game to try to break the chains maybe the chains need to be transformed maybe my trauma can exist but not confine me to a bubble of shame maybe i can make it a superpower I tamed