You and I have been shifting
and gravitating
like the planets and sun
Your silent poetry struck me
Captured me
and gestured quietness in my dreams
You are the same there
Cautious smile
We didn't quite hug
You painted feelings lightly on my side
while I searched for your confessions
in the depths of your canyons
on a Summer day
Blowing smoke absentmindedly
in a farraginous bubble.
~Tina Meeks
If I were a poem
I would be naked.
I would be a hollow glimmer
of the light seeping from a subway tunnel.
~Tina Meeks
A generic teenaged world.
Having not yet seen
the world beyond sheltered eyes.
Mother's arms lay open, harmoniously
and never shift position-
not even for an itch.
She casts innocence.
She bellows for her people.
Mother tucks her tail in if wolves
growl back.
Forgiveness drenches hands.
She gently combs fingers
through my hair after
brushing out what corruption has entangled me into.
I have hardly said much
after sifting through flashcards
and rejecting melatonin-filled nights.
These days,
reflection is tell all.
~Tina Meeks
I don't spit rhymes,
and forget about a dope beat
Simple and poetically
full of flow and empathy
Emotionally charged
atrociously
devoted to the words
and imaginary metronome
~Tina Meeks
