2015 NaPoWriMo! 

Happy Poetry Month - can you write a poem a day for the month of April? The LAPS encourages you to write 30 for 30! WRITE ON! Email us your poem of the day and we will post it here! Email: losangelespoetsociety@gmail.com 

April 1

NOTES FROM HAZARD

 

Los, short for Carlos, is in the car

with a girl, parked in front of the

graffiti wall along the western face

of the warehouse where we work

and where some of us often stay.

Los visits us from the projects up

the hill in a neighborhood called

Hazard. He plays guitar and sings,

sits in on the occasional game of

chess. He smiles when he offers

a small cup of spiced rum or even

a Camel cigarette. He is sitting in

the car with a boyish grin when I

say I’ll leave the main door open

in case he or his friend need the

bathroom. I go back to bed. It is

Almost 1:30 am I do not hear the

gunshots that occur behind them

there outside at nearly 4 am, shots

not aimed at him or the lovely girl.

A bullet is deposited inside the brain

of a young man we do not yet know.

I sleep through sirens and detectives

and crime scene tape with a headset

and Netflix to lull me through a tide

Of fitful turns and dreams of a love

That went away. In the morning, we

see Los on a sofa in the studio where

a popular tattoo artist works in both

ink and oils on canvas or wood panel.

Outside on the asphalt behind a car

I’ve borrowed are thick, congealed

Knots of blood like an iridescence,

like nail polish on the girl who did

Not wake me with her screams just

Hours before while a sudden crime

Unfolded in the rear view behind

Her in the silent barrio parking lot

 

© Abel Salas, April 1, 2015

Penetration

 

In spite of the distance of the cloudy atop and it's rainy surfce, my light still made it through the misty blue.

And yet here I am shaking to understand the endings of sound and the nerve it gives as gasses release from our mouths.

And the toxic waste our sight lays it's attention on

in the silent chattering chat under opiniated caged thoughts.

I unhinge the bars, sliding grease between my lips, for the hopes that the right words will stick. 

 

- Jessica Wilson & Juan Cardenas

April 2

Fear

 

I got a premonition again today, same dreadful feeling and it wont go away.  I feel you'll let me down.   I don't trust you when your not around but all I know is Bliss when I'm in your ams .  There it's perfection, nothings wrong.   My heart hears you walk away with silent intention Outloud I'll pay.   My soul feels yet I found you.  Still I'm Cast out empty,  left black and blue.  And I fear you''ll let me down, yet I miss you when your not around.  But all I know is Bliss when Your in my warmth.  There is nothing more I'd ever want.  As I feared, You let me down, you took my love and threw it around .  You placed me upon a shelf,  blocked me there while you collecting someone else.  Mindlessly added to your never ending secrets of lies.  Its here I've been slowing fading  like the sun and there where I spend too many time crying and waiting in dispair, too many nights you left let me there.   You have an obsession I cant tame.  People grow but they do not change.  You jus yell,hurt, point and blame.   I'd rather BE alone if I'm not first in your heart of thrown.

 

- ConStanceLySteele

April 3

 

Gloria

 

Gloria Steinem

Lauded by many while

Outraging many more

Reactions that still follow her today as she

Instructs the next generation to

Always strive for equality

 

- Lisa Hayes

 

 

April 4

 

Spitfire

 

Society has put the family's houour on our shoulders

people say that we shouldn't cross our limits

i know how careful we should be all the time

time to time we are told that we have to leave our parents one day

fun should be done with lips sealed, no loud voice allowed

i feel heavy and burderned with so many “characters” on stake

reason of being more emotional after soemthing out of the box happens

elaboration more required? 

 

- Garima Singhal 

April 7

 

Standing alone in the rain by the lake. The shadows on the lake are beautiful and add to the ecliptic and eccentric aura and the air is fresh and clean. the beauty in the shadows are clear. They add to the ambiance and cheer. The perfect picture and perfect setting. Breath and take it in my soul brothers and sisters. Shadows on the lake. Consumed by beauty and not fake. The mountain adds to the freshness and each breath is a gift full of liife and the gentle waves are alive and illuminate the colors.The leaves gently flow on the trees and a magii and a rabbit flees and I just have to fall on my knees, while I watch the shadows in the lake.

 

- Patrick Wardell 

 

 

April 5
 
I open my eyes and realize I'm alive

The light through the blinds cannot be disguised
Sunlight filtered through trees around me
I am grateful to be and in that I'm free

 

 

 

April 6

 

From the silent blackness of night the birds are calm

 

Slowly creeping
Light from above peeks its way through

 

Softly stirring
Birds from the trees slowly wake

Suddenly dawn
I am witness to the magic of morning

And it is beautiful

 

- MamaZee Reed

 

April 8

 

Standing alone in the rain by the lake. The shadows on the lake are beautiful and add to the ecliptic and eccentric aura and the air is fresh and clean. the beauty in the shadows are clear. They add to the ambiance and cheer. The perfect picture and perfect setting. Breath and take it in my soul brothers and sisters. Shadows on the lake. Consumed by beauty and not fake. The mountain adds to the freshness and each breath is a gift full of liife and the gentle waves are alive and illuminate the colors.The leaves gently flow on the trees and a magii and a rabbit flees and I just have to fall on my knees, while I watch the shadows in the lake.

 

- Patrick Wardell 

 

 

April 9

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

- S.A. Griffin

April 10

 

The people on the 3rd floor


The square space on the first two rows to the right is safe from most people's peripherals. Dozens of footprints and crumbs are buried in an endless sea of moss colored yarn.


The woman on the front row sits with pastel colors on her eyelids. She hums nursery rhymes while quietly assessing the dull roar behind her. A man behind her speaks with eloquence while fixes his tie and pressed shirt. He counts the days left in a month to see how high he can jump. A man behind the suit and tie taps his foot until it's time for him to get up. He walks around with blood shot eyes and speaks with the only strength left in him. On the second row, there's a woman from Romania. She lays with a Muslim man who plants roses in her backyard.


Every hour or so a dark haired woman laughs with a jazzy voice and sways her hips as she walks. She speaks half Mayan despite her butterscotch complexion and freckles on her cheeks. A young man across from the suit and tie walks with sunlight on his footsteps. He turns the light off on Friday nights and hides from the trees from Easter to Winter. Lastly, there is a woman from the Far East who stares at cut out pictures of a house and reads letters from dead poets. She takes long walks until her feet are one with the sand and longs for cloudless skies and starry nights.


The quiet mother, the perfectionist, the restless, the Romanian, the Mayan, the Jew and the romantic, we are the people on the third floor.

- Laurina Laupase

 

April 11

 

Ode to My City

alone in blurred evening

I

enraptured by crisp blue skies 

swallowing the tops of flailing skyscrapers:

they

hinged organism with jagged antennae

crawling every slowly

under wide cloudless predator

    I could dissipate into this coast

    melt into the murmur of long-tired street

    teeth unfolding into buses...

    ...my smile buildings stabbing the horizon--

approaching a plum streak 

I can never be a part of

 

 

- Amanda Gorman, Los Angeles' 1st Youth Poet Laureate, 2015

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