Tag Archives: poetry

Skyline

Skyline
Written by Chelsea Marie Hicks

Buildings babel upwards
towards cloud lanes, past cathedral spires,
beckoning to god’s
as patrons in awe on pavement
gaze at glass monoliths,
confusing towers with the heavens.

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Ash and Snow

This past winter was a dark one in my life, marked by periods of mourning over loved ones buried and a loneliness more severe than previous snowy seasons. A blessing and tragedy of living far from family is that when crises occurs, I benefit and suffer from a level of detachment due to the distance that separates; I’m no stranger to that sensation and have grown accustomed, perhaps even too comfortable, with my living in my self-prescribed exile. This particular piece was written shortly after my grandmother passed in December and though there isn’t anything especially revealing about the piece, I required some time before being able to share it. My grandmother was a woman bearing such a kind, generous, and warm spirit, and a woman of unshakeable faith; there’s no other person who has made me want to believe in the heavens more than her.

Ash and Snow
Written by Chelsea Marie Hicks

Frailty failed her lungs,
breaths left dangling in the space above her bones,
the dissolved muscles and grey skin drained of its glow–
the absent sting of sunlight an illusion as bold as sunset.

Life rarely leaves lovely behind,
though caskets cling to the remnants
as if at war with soil’s desire to consume.

I’m told there was a mountain behind the funeral procession,
one which begs the imagination to blur colors of ash and snow,
as if they are not the same.

In earth her body lay buried,
wrapped with silk,
drenched in smooth faith.
Her soul in a distant ascension,
legs a reliquary latched to the stairway made of scripture.

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Reverie Trails

Written by Chelsea Marie Hicks

Reveries revealing winding trails to doors ajar,
in nights I waltz through forests
to find you in foliage, eyes shining,
the blue glow of our moon dancing
a train of shivers and sentiments across skin,
glazing with goosebumps.

The breeze whistles, beckoning our stride to the seaboard,
sand sprinkling its jagged glass spheres
over our imaginary fairytale.

When we wake, timezones stretched between us,
our nostrils fill with the scent of sea foam
from the shores of where we always meet,
a place we’ve never been before.

These haunting daydreams grip to all hours,
minds lost–wandering through
the thicket of reverie trails.

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Sleep

Written by Chelsea Marie Hicks

Sometimes I dream of burning metal,
an aneurism smelling stains, staining smells into the nostrils of my nightmares,
places daydreams go to visit, rare to return.
This is a place speckled blue and bright,
dark matter, rays of fire, swirling in a phosphorescent haze.
Our mind’s made up of galaxies, battling and bending,
breaking when we fall out of

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Romance of the Typewriter

Written by Chelsea Marie Hicks

There’s something so elegant about the typewriter. It’s clicks clacking, paper reeling, disappearing, reappearing with stamps, our words tattooed onto white skin. I miss the pleasure of punching keys; the tragedy of mistakes, the beauty of perfect lettering and alignment. I miss that commotion that typewriters bring to writing, a symphony lacking from my pen. My typewriter remains on its shrine of silk scarves from Bohemia, awaiting the oil of my fingers to beat it back to life. If only my Corona could come with me to whatever seas my diver directs me to.

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Breathing. Clouds. Space Bodies

This is a piece of found poetry that I stitched together from one of my student’s reading assignments at school. On the ground I spotted an essay cut up into three sections, one on breathing, another on clouds and the last on space bodies. The sound and images of these titles together was something I instantly connected with and considered to be quite beautiful and thus this little ditty was conjured up.

Breathing. Clouds. Space Bodies
Written by Chelsea Marie Hicks

Bodies made of frozen gas and dust,
meteors in an orbit,
stretch out across the sky,
immerse yourself in the towering cloud:

You are ready to practice regular breathing.

Legs tucked, curl like a feather
composed of crystals in an atmosphere burning,
sink into the satellite’s arms and glide forward:

This is called floating.

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Nightmares

Written by Chelsea Marie Hicks

Wash awake the sharp chill of the night and in the sun’s tempting light, take shelter from the horrors marinating in your mind. Like the tide running towards deeper waters, heed the warning in the silence you hear–the air is shuddering with a message that only the rattle of stop signs and sway of telephone lines can convey. This is not the world you wake up in, dreams amnesiaed, taking shape in whispers.

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