This girl. In love with the boy she can't have. Grieving the death of her father, only to find out she's about to grieve the death of the only adult left in her life? This girl who's being told she can't keep the only family member she has left?
Colleen HooverI don't know how one minute, a person can think his life is nothing more than a barren valley with nothing left to look forward to. Then, in the blink of an eye, someone can come along and change it with a simple smile.
Colleen HooverThis girl. This baby girl is my life. Her mother is my life. These girls are both my life.
Colleen HooverTags: this-girl favorite-lines these-girls
my final piece
We’re born into the world
As just one small piece to the puzzle
That makes up an entire life.
It’s up to us throughout our years,
to find all of our pieces that fit.
The pieces that connect who we are
To who we were
To who we’ll one day be.
Sometimes pieces will almost fit.
They’ll feel right.
We’ll carry them around for a while,
Hoping they’ll change shape.
Hoping they’ll conform to our puzzle.
But they won’t.
We’ll eventually have to let them go.
To find the puzzle that is their home.
Sometimes pieces won’t fit at all.
No matter how much we want them to.
We’ll shove them.
We’ll bend them.
We’ll break them.
But what isn’t meant to be,
won’t be.
Those are the hardest pieces of all to
accept.
The pieces of our puzzle
That just don’t belong.
But occasionally . . .
Not very often at all,
If we’re lucky,
If we pay enough attention,
We’ll find a
perfect match.
The pieces of the puzzle that slide right in
The pieces that hug the contours of our own
pieces.
The pieces that lock to us.
The pieces that we lock to.
The pieces that fit so well, we can’t tell
where our piece begins
And that piece ends.
Those pieces we call
Friends.
True loves.
Dreams.
Passions.
Beliefs.
Talents.
They’re all the pieces that complete our
puzzles.
They line the edges,
Frame the corners,
Fill the centers,
Those pieces are the pieces that make us
who we are.
Who we were.
Who we’ll one day be.
Up until today,
When I looked at my own puzzle,
I would see a finished piece.
I had the edges lined,
The corners framed,
The center filled.
It felt like it was complete.
All the pieces were there.
I had everything I wanted.
Everything I needed.
Everything I dreamt of.
But up until today,
I realized I had collected all
but one piece.
The most vital piece.
The piece that completes the picture.
The piece that completes my whole life.
I held this girl in my arms
She wrapped her tiny fingers around mine.
It was then that I realized
She was the fusion.
The glue.
The cement that bound all my pieces
together.
The piece that seals my puzzle.
The piece that completes my life.
The element that makes me who I am.
Who I was.
Who I’ll one day be.
You, baby girl.
You’re my final piece.
I got schooled this year.
By my Father.
He taught me that heroes aren't always invincible.
Thinking about how much I love her makes me hurt because of what she did. It hurts because I feel like I don't even know her. I feel like there's a side to her that I never even knew existed.
That's not what scares me the most, though. What scares me the most is that I'm afraid the only side of her I do know ... doesn't really exist at all.
This poem is very long
So long, in fact, that your attention span
May be stretched to its very limits
But that’s okay
It’s what’s so special about poetry
See, poetry takes time
We live in a time
Call it our culture or society
It doesn’t matter to me cause neither one rhymes
A time where most people don’t want to listen
Our throats wait like matchsticks waiting to catch fire
Waiting until we can speak
No patience to listen
But this poem is long
It’s so long, in fact, that during the time of this poem
You could’ve done any number of other wonderful things
You could’ve called your father
Call your father
You could be writing a postcard right now
Write a postcard
When was the last time you wrote a postcard?
You could be outside
You’re probably not too far away from a sunrise or a sunset
Watch the sun rise
Maybe you could’ve written your own poem
A better poem
You could have played a tune or sung a song
You could have met your neighbor
And memorized their name
Memorize the name of your neighbor
You could’ve drawn a picture
(Or, at least, colored one in)
You could’ve started a book
Or finished a prayer
You could’ve talked to God
Pray
When was the last time you prayed?
Really prayed?
This is a long poem
So long, in fact, that you’ve already spent a minute with it
When was the last time you hugged a friend for a minute?
Or told them that you love them?
Tell your friends you love them
…no, I mean it, tell them
Say, I love you
Say, you make life worth living
Because that, is what friends do
Of all of the wonderful things that you could’ve done
During this very, very long poem
You could have connected
Maybe you are connecting
Maybe we’re connecting
See, I believe that the only things that really matter
In the grand scheme of life are God and people
And if people are made in the image of God
Then when you spend your time with people
It’s never wasted
And in this very long poem
I’m trying to let a poem do what a poem does:
Make things simpler
We don’t need poems to make things more complicated
We have each other for that
We need poems to remind ourselves of the things that really matter
To take time
A long time
To be alive for the sake of someone else for a single moment
Or for many moments
Cause we need each other
To hold the hands of a broken person
All you have to do is meet a person
Shake their hand
Look in their eyes
They are you
We are all broken together
But these shattered pieces of our existence don’t have to be a mess
We just have to care enough to hold our tongues sometimes
To sit and listen to a very long poem
A story of a life
The joy of a friend and the grief of friend
To hold and be held
And be quiet
So, pray
Write a postcard
Call your parents and forgive them and then thank them
Turn off the TV
Create art as best as you can
Share as much as possible, especially money
Tell someone about a very long poem you once heard
And how afterward it brought you to them
Tags: poem this-girl a-very-long-poem marty-schoenleber-iii
There are moments in every relationship that define when two people start to fall in love.
A first glance
A first smile
A first kiss
A first fall…
(I remove the Darth Vader house shoes from my satchel and look down at them.)
You were wearing these during one of those moments.
One of the moments I first started to fall in love with you.
The way you gave me butterflies that morning
Had absolutely nothing to do with anyone else,
and everything to do with you.
I was falling in love with you that morning
because of you.
(I take the next item out of the satchel. When I pull it out and look up, she brings her hands to her mouth in shock.)
This ugly little gnome
With his smug little grin…
He's the reason I had an excuse to invite you into my house.
Into my life.
You took a lot of aggression out on him over those next few months.
I would watch from my window as you would kick him over every time you walked by him.
Poor little guy.
You were so tenacious.
That feisty, aggressive, strong-willed side of you….
The side of you that refused to take crap from this concrete gnome?
The side of you that refused to take crap from me?
I fell in love with that side of you
because of you.
(I set the gnome down on the stage and grab the CD)
This is your favorite CD
‘Layken’s shit.’
Although now I know you intended for shit to be possessive, rather than descriptive.
The banjo started playing through the speakers of your car
and I immediately recognized my favorite band.
Then when I realized it was your favorite band, too?
The fact that these same lyrics inspired both of us?
I fell in love with that about you.
That had absolutely nothing to do with anyone else.
I fell in love with that about you
because of you.
(I take a slip of paper out of the satchel and hold it up. When I look at her, I see Eddie slide her a napkin. I can’t tell from up here, but that can only mean she’s crying.)
This is a receipt I kept.
Only because the item I purchased that night was on the verge of ridiculous.
Chocolate milk on the rocks? Who orders that?
You were different, and you didn’t care.
You were being you.
A piece of me fell in love with you at that moment,
because of you.
This? (I hold up another sheet of paper.)
This I didn’t really like so much.
It’s the poem you wrote about me.
The one you titled 'mean?'
I don’t think I ever told you…
but you made a zero.
And then I kept it
to remind myself of all the things I never want to be to you.
(I pull her shirt from my bag. When I hold it into the light, I sigh into the microphone.)
This is that ugly shirt you wear.
It doesn’t really have anything to do with why I fell in love with you.
I just saw it at your house and thought I’d steal it.
Tags: inspirational love poetry slam-poetry
(I pull the second to last item out of my bag. Her purple hair clip. She told me once how much it meant to her, and why she always keeps it.)
This purple hair clip?
It really is magic…just like your dad told you it was.
It’s magic because, no matter how many times it lets you down…you keep having hope in it.
You keep trusting it.
No matter how many times it fails you,
You never fail it.
Just like you never fail me.
I love that about you,
because of you.
(I set it back down and pull out a strip of paper and unfold it.)
Your mother.
(I sigh)
Your mother was an amazing woman, Lake.
I'm blessed that I got to know her,
And that she was a part of my life, too.
I came to love her as my own mom…just as she came to love Caulder and I as her own.
I didn’t love her because of you, Lake.
I loved her because of her.
So, thank you for sharing her with us.
She had more advice about
Life and love and happiness and heartache than anyone I've ever known.
But the best advice she ever gave me?
The best advice she ever gave us?
(I read the quote in my hands)
"Sometimes two people have to fall apart, to realize how much they need to fall back together."
(She’s definitely crying now. I place the slip back inside the satchel and take a step closer to the edge of the stage as I hold her gaze.)
The last item I have wouldn’t fit, because you’re actually sitting in it.
That booth.
You’re sitting in the exact same spot you sat in when you watched your first performance on this stage.
The way you watched this stage with passion in your eyes…I'll never forget that moment.
It's the moment I knew it was too late.
I was too far gone by then.
I was in love with you.
I was in love with you because of you.
(I back up and sit down on the stool behind me, still holding her stare.)
I could go on all night, Lake.
I could go on and on and on about all the reasons I'm in love with you.
And you know what? Some of them are the things that life has thrown our way.
I do love you because you're the only other person I know that understands my situation.
I do love you because both of us know what it's like to lose your mom and your dad.
I do love you because you're raising your little brother, just like I am.
I love you because of what you went through with your mother.
I love you because of what we went through with your mother.
I love the way you love Kel.
I love the way you love Caulder.
And I love the way I love Kel.
So I'm not about to apologize for loving all these things about you, no matter the reasons or the circumstances behind them.
And no, I don’t need days, or weeks, or months to think about why I love you.
It’s an easy answer for me.
I love you because of you.
Because of
every
single
thing
about you.
Tags: inspirational love poetry slam-poetry point-of-retreat
You've passed like three stores that sell batteries," she says. "We need to get one now in case it's too late on our way back."
“You don’t need a battery. Your battery is fine,” I say.
I avoid looking over at her but I can see her watching me, waiting for more explanation.
I don’t immediately respond. I flick the blinker on and turn onto my grandparent’s street. When I pull into their driveway, I turn the car off and tell her the truth. What harm could it do at this point?
“I unhooked your battery cable before you tried to leave today.” I don’t wait for her reaction as I get out of the car and slam the door. I’m not sure why I slam the car door. I’m not mad at her, I’m just frustrated. Frustrated that she doubts me after all this time.
“You what!?” she yells. When she gets out of the car, she slams her door intentionally.
I keep walking, shielding the wind and snow with my jacket until I reach the front door. She rushes after me. I almost walk inside without knocking but remember how it feels, so I knock.
“I said I unhooked your battery cable. How else was I going to convince you to ride with me?”
"That's real mature, Will.
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