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Niansahc's profile 
AGE:
29
LOC: Richmond, VA
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: November 13
LOC: Richmond, VA
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: November 13
I’ve been writing since I was a little girl. I’ve written fiction, nonfiction, short stories, and essays… but poetry has always been the best indicator of what’s going on in my head and my world at any given moment.
I write feelings. I write words down that sound good next to one another. The combination of the two results in what I consider to be a unique if overly masculine treatment of my weird female suffering.
Mostly I’m poking fun at myself.
I’m a manager in the corporate headquarters of a international shipping company. I have a husband who brings me constant joy and wonder and nine-year-old year old son who also writes a little poetry here and there. I live in a 50’s era cookie-cutter home with our dog, a life-sized b…
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Power Nap It's not as if I didn't try, Eyes closed, arms wide and ready, To get there peacefully To you, or slumber, or home. --- The Noises Bother My Son The windows are open all 'round the house And outside is pouring in loudly, cooly. I'm pretending I'm on safari. I'm self-reliant and I have a big knife. I will save the day and sleep under gauze, With the TV sleep-timer on. -- Planes Planes buzz off outside my window. Off to wonder, life, destiny. I am trapped here in my head...
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On either portion Of a cracked mirror Same general outlook On, fuck, whatever But the view is skewed Like closing one eye And looking at your face Then switching to the Other and you're suddenly Up there. How do you do that?
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Oh from the land of Too Much Not Enough Come the silly lovers Who think they've made A difference in each Other so great that The land of Too Much Not Enough is erased Like a history of Violence can be erased With a hold touchy touchy- And isn't it so, Silly lovers? Isn't it so?
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She scratches at her shoulders She can't make the skin smooth Sometimes her skin gets harder It might turn out just fine some day But for now it's worse and worse.
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Untitled Sister II??? It's like her eyes didn't mean anything And it wasn't the unblinkingness and It wasn't the white. I tried to call you on my string Tree house to tree house (Broken swing hanging half down waiting for summer to care enough) Can jangling with my shaking hand It's like her eyes didn't mean anything And looked right through me without Stopping. I like to watch my feet dangle Miles above anything solid. It's like her eyes didn't mean anything To me anymore. Like I couldn't cr...
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Almost a short story. I was skeptical and withdrawn from your words. "Oh, typical rape scene," I thought. But... and this is a big BUT- the last two lines brought tears to my eyes. The moment of realization you present us with is so lovely. He has come home to find everything he cherishes tainted. The look on his face as his eyes fell on her. The sick knowledge creeping over his skin like so much slime. The rage. The worry. I saw all of that in the last two lines, and for that I thank you.
I'm a big fan of love poems. Yours is not quite finished. It needs more of this: But if you were to warm my blood, awaken me, release the flood, I want more from you. I want passion. I want raw emotion. I want you to work at it a little more. So very close. Move me.
Pay attention to your line lengths. The way a poem or lyrics look can say a lot. I love the first two lines, but was let down by the two after that. Keep it honest and raw.
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