Luto

Every young man on the street corner,

Every punk kid walking down the street,

Every glowing cigarette smoking up the night,

Every drifter carrying a bag in tow,

I see you.

Everyday I wonder

how our paths drifted so far apart.

Everyday I wonder

why I still keep you in my heart.

Everyday I wonder

what happened to make you so lonely.

Everyday I wonder

why you think the world revolves solely

around you.

Everything reminds me.

Everything begs me to forget.

Everything was what you were to me.

Everything is what you will always be

to yourself.

© Autumn Siders

In the Dark

Stuck in the dark,

without a light,

unaware of your surroundings,

scared of what’s unknown.

Eventually your eyes adjust,

and learn to live without a light,

aware of your surroundings,

scared of what’s known.

© Autumn Siders 2015

#Lovewins

Excuses come in every shape and size.

Reason has its time and place.

Money can certainly be the demise

and distance definitely makes its case.

Despite all the obstacles we face,

There is one factor that remains true.

No matter religion, sex, age or race,

Whatever the heart say, we must do.

© Autumn Siders 2015

But What Does it Mean?

When I tell people I was an English major, their first response is, “oh, so you want to teach?” When I reply in the negative, the next response is a look of bewilderment and a slow head nod leading to a tentative, “so what do you want to do with that?” The truth is, I never even wanted to go to college and I have no desire to limit my potential opportunities to one thing that I studied for four years. In my opinion, the only thing that English can teach you is how to think for yourself. You can master a language and use words as your tools, your weapons, your shield. You can go back in time, jump into the future, and hide within your own time period. To me, other than with the use of grammar, there is no right or wrong answer when it comes to the English language and the art that stems from that. The thing I dislike most about English classes is that often times, teachers try to tell you that there is a right or a wrong answer. Well two people can read the same line of text and have two completely different ideas on what that means. As someone who has shared her work with others, yeah I can tell you what I meant when I wrote it, but I don’t care if you love it, hate it, or take something completely different from it, as long as you experience something. For anyone out there though who needs the safety net of right and wrong, I will dissect this poem for you so as there is no confusion.

1.Nature and all her beauty,

2.got nothin’ on your booty;

3.golden and perfectly rounded,

4.I find myself constantly astounded.

5.Lost at sea, or lost in my mind,

6.you are my north star, my compass,

7.lighting my way, leading the blind,

8.who wouldn’t come home to that ass.

Line 1: So here I discuss the beauty of nature, it’s great, it’s grand, nothing can compare…or can it?

Line 2: So here it is something that can compare to nature’s beauty. Booty, you know, pirate’s treasure, stop having such a dirty mind!

Line 3: gold coins, they are golden, they are round, they look good in tight pants.

Line 4: Wow!!

Line 5: I really don’t like water so I think if I were ever on the sea I would be lost for sure. Also, it goes back to the whole pirate thing and hey most pirates are lost in the mind if you know what I mean.

Line 6: What drives them on? More booty!!!! ARRR and they use compasses.

Line 7: Gold is shiny, although I did use some poetic license there, not sure the blind can see gold, but maybe the morally blind can, yeah, that’s what I meant.

Line 8: There’s a donkey at home. Okay, maybe it was a poem about a nice ass.

© Autumn Siders 2015

#tbt

One night while passing a laundry mat, my friends and I spotted a girl sitting in the dryer. This poem is the result of that.

To the girl who sat in the dryer March 10, 2014

We spotted you through the window that night,

A gentle spin we took to look twice.

Questions tumbled through our minds,

“Is she drying her pants? They look nice.”

You sat with your phone and pondered the screen.

Perhaps she needs to vent, or she didn’t see the seat.

This could be a delicate situation, we think,

At least it’s the bottom; sitting in the top would be a feat.

If we asked her the problem, would she come clean?

Could we provide any help she might require?

Or maybe she just found the warmest seat in the place?

Here’s to proving normal is just a setting on the dryer!

#tbt

One succumbs to death

as one would succumb to sleep.

The child screams and fights

not quite ready to slumber yet.

Out all night the teen

still puts up a fight.

Then, without warning or right

Sleep sneaks in every night.

Before you know it

your eyes are closed tight.

© Autumn Siders 2014

My Hero

She didn’t give me her eyes,

but somehow we see the world the same way.

There are so many other gifts,

She gave to me that I appreciate every day.

She shows me courage,

and taught me not to care what others say.

She shows me strength,

and possesses a beauty that will never decay.

I may be biased,

but my feelings I can’t betray.

She is mother and my hero,

and my eyes will always see her this way.

Happy Birthday, Emilita!

There is no one else who can make me smile like you do.

I can be in my darkest days when all it takes,

is one look at you to light my way.

There is no one else who can make me laugh like you do.

A simple look, a goofy act, your quirky moods,

are all things that fill my life with laughter.

There is no one else like you.

Your beauty, your style, your soul, your smile,

are what makes me proud to call you mine.

#tbt

Found

The heart breaks into many little pieces,

and when you realize not all are found,

that is the moment your life ceases.

Zombie-like, you stumble through life,

devouring those who love along the way,

if you can’t live, why should they?

Then, that lost piece is found,

put back into place, your heart will sound,

true love at last, points you homeward bound.

Judge Not

I started writing this big long rant about humans and love and hate and blah, blah, blah. I decided none of you wanted to read that much, especially since there is always something in the media to promulgate the hatred of some individual(s). So, I wrote a poem. Enjoy!

I wasn’t raised in the House of God

And according to some there is no Heaven for me.

So what if I like to be with a broad?

Who knows? She may be the only Heaven I need.

I wasn’t raised in the Pits of Hell

But according to some that’s what’s in store for me.

If that’s all that religion has to sell,

Then I guess I’ll go, and all the warmer I’ll be.

I wasn’t raised in the House of God

And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with those who were.

But, I can’t stand those who are frauds,

Preaching their Holiness when it’s Sin they prefer.