The sounds of home greet me
the trickling sound of the fish tank
my mother's eccentric cackling
and my step father's loud voice
...
Apricity, like warm
fingers on a cold day
like yours in mine
chasing away the ghosts
...
When we are together
my heart is light
my lungs fill with laughter
but my brain is consumed
...
There was once a pretty young lady
She waked around with her head bowed
Portraying a meekness, mild, and humble
Terribly unaware of her presence in the world
...
The wind blows a laden sigh
yet comfortably, unmovingly, here sit I
where some would become tense
I am lax, billowing like ribbons on a fence
...
As I passed the threshold
a mysterious song was playing
with words so ominous
a halting pause ensued
...
Right as rain they say
but how can rain be right
If you're driving
it can be quite wrong
...
near a hidden nest
acrobatic birds are propped airily
on the mortar of brick walls
perfectly unaware of their talent
...
Change is a funny thing
Sometimes it comes so fast
Nobody can keep up
...
You with whom it's hard to find a good memory
untarnished by your poorly masked envy
a pure memory with you, exists purely in my imagination
...
staring at a dry-erase board
and I realize there are no dry erases in life
in fact they're usually sopping wet with tears
a clean cut too does not exist
...
I frequent this warm cinnamon bench
at my college's open air catholic altar.
But I am not catholic,
...
I think books are beautiful
and libraries are magical
perhaps the last drops
of magic that can be touched
...
I am from the land of sweeping magnolia trees
Wherein a sweet lemony scent coats the air
In early summer, the trees are polka-dotted
With grandiose white flower buds
...
If only
I knew how to give
just enough of myself to you
our friendship would never end
...
The banquet had ended about 30 minutes ago
when she turned to me and said,
'you ready to go? '
& I answered, 'yes.'
...
I woke up one morning, and I found
the world was full of addicts all around:
narcotic users
coffee drinkers
...
'I don't think I can ever stop writing poetry now that I've started. It's as therapeutic for me as it is enjoyable! ' ~Nika Hello, I'm Nika McGuin. I feel like I was born a poet(though rest assured, I feel like becoming a great poet is a life-long ordeal.) Even when I didn't know what poetry was I enjoyed scribbling in my diary as a kid. Much of what I wrote verged on prose unbeknowst to me. I attempted poetry in middle school but back then I didn't know that poetry was so much more than rhyming. Not to mention my handwriting was so bad nobody could understand it anyway(lol) . Eventually I gave up because it seemed like I wasn't very good at it. Near the end of 2013 I took a modern poetry class out of curiosity and it has changed my perspective of poetry completely. Now I seek to write poetry as a lifelong hobby. At the moment, I enjoy a lot of creative freedom with my poetry. I haven't had any classical training in poetry writing, but in a way I like that. I don't feel like I'm being bossed around by the words or by structure(though I do give great consideration to both.) Hopefully as I continue on I'll improve. Maybe one day I'll even publish a book of poems. Until then, please read, rate, and comment on my poetry ^^)
Assembling The Puzzle
The sounds of home greet me
the trickling sound of the fish tank
my mother's eccentric cackling
and my step father's loud voice
a voice that gets ignored all the same
and the discordant ticking of clocks
even the pace of time is slowed here
They say home is a place
where people take note of your absence
Its when you forget your own face
and what you look like doesn't matter
because you are kin, a tiny component
of one great warm existence,
but a crucial piece all the same
Home is something I take with me when I leave
it's a concrete part of my being
in reality, I have several homes
with a number of different families,
all of which have pieced me together
and to this day we're still collaborating
working to complete a jumbo puzzle of homes
that interlock, meshing together our lives
Nika's poems speak with such an abundance of humble self-confidence that they are absolutely overwhelming. When I read her poems I feel as if I am in the same room with some well-known noted authority on some important subject, except that it's at a casual cocktail party where everyone is on a first name basis, utterly at ease and without a thought of wanting to impress anyone. Her diction is perfectly conversational, without the least hint of self-consciousness. It flows off the page, it gathers your interest and attention without the last demand or coercion. No false manners. No guarded politics. These poems exude a rare sense of charisma, of being interested in you, drawing you in with guileless charm. A thoroughly enchanting voice.
I have learned that nothing in life is as hard as we think it will be; nor is it as easy as we wish it could be.
Words that go unspoken are like hot iron, they brand your soul. They can set you afire one day if you don't release them.
Paradise exists, but perfection never will.
No matter how large an apple may grow, at its core lie the same seeds.
Congratulations poet for being awarded with something you deserved long ago. Your poem rejuvenates love for home and homely relations. Keep this spirit of inspiring us through your highly creative poems from time to time. Regards. Subhas