melanie silva

In my pocket poem

A little box where my emotions sit
Saved from everything
Else
my music
My ipod
Simple papers
Metals.
Big meaning
The cause of wick ness
Cruelty
My money
Small papers
Transportation
My tickets
Identity
Unlost
A citizen
My cards


Newspaper Poem

What I owe is important to me,
But tragedy
Steals it away
It was 9am
When mud seeped in the basement
An ocean of water
Where my children used to play
Strangers walk in everyday
After that
Taking away my possessions
As I cry with my family
With nothing
Left
But worries and frustrations
Now we sit in an
Offered house
Worrying
About
Loss