i suck at poetry

i'm hannah and i write poems in hopes of reaching others who feel like their work isn't good enough

[badpoetsclub]

Happy World Mental Health Day to people who still feel like they’re drowning, people who can’t get out of toxic situations yet, and people too scared to say anything about their mind’s wellbeing. I see you.

[badpoetsclub]

My sister had her last baby today. She waited the whole nine months to find out the gender, much to my mother’s dismay. I bought her baby clothes that were grays and blues and greens, not caring about who it would be. Love can always be felt for others, even at nine months away.

As a half-assed writer, I have to think about my sister when she had my niece 8 years ago. She was living in our parents house and dealing with the awful reality of a man that wasn’t ready to be a father, and parents that still weren’t ready to be parents. I remember being 13 and so afraid for her, going to the library at lunch and reading up on affordable housing and food stamps and child birth. I wrote her thousands of notes with words of encouragement before she went to work everyday. It was always like that between she and I, taking care of each other in our own ways.

Our mother was checked out back then, so my sister made it her own job. She taught me how to tie my shoes and make myself breakfast. She showed me how style my hair and my favorite Maroon 5 songs. She was rebellious and I wanted to be her so badly. The “I love you’s” came easy. We were each other’s first example of unconditional love.

I’m 22 now and she’s 30. We’ve grown up in separate ways and things aren’t as black and white as they used to be. She’s got her own little family and a peace about her that’s unfamiliar. I’m just starting to figure out my own worth and place in this universe. A few months back, she told me that she knew she wanted to be a mom when I was born. She said that I always told her that she was special and that she was beautiful, and even on the bad days, she kept going for me and our other siblings. I’d never known that until now.

My sister had her last baby today. I feel complete in knowing that I was her first.

to Alyssa, the best mom I’ve known // hnl 2020

[badpoetsclub]

Oh, it never mattered to me anyway

don’t cry me a river

just to wash me down the drain

notthing mattered, nothing earned or gained

everything to lose on a hot summer day

-

maybe it’s time to let go

of what wasn’t meant to stay

girl on fire, whispers the universe

you’re gonna light up rooms with your smile

everything mattered,

every blood stain

every masarca trail down your face

there’s no better place, I’d like to imagine

spit out the bitter taste

at least it happened

poetry on the front porch step // hnl 2020

[badpoetsclub]

You are beautiful and deserve all the happiness in the world 🤍

Ur beautiful and I hope your part of the world is warm and peaceful

[badpoetsclub]

“Looking back on it now, I understand why you had to come into my life. Maybe someday I’ll understand why you had to leave it, too.”

— “I’m happy for you.” // hnl 2018 

[badpoetsclub]

Breathe in, breathe out

some days it’s harder to remember

that this is my body, my lungs

that no one has control over me

but me

Breathe in, breathe out

I reflect on what triggers me

and try to let go of whatever has a hold

on my spirit

sometimes the anger is so overwhelming

Breathe in, breathe out

my mind is in a healthier place

my inner child is healing as I write this

she reminds me that these feelings will pass

as long as I

breathe in, breathe out

what makes you angry? // hnl 2020

[badpoetsclub]

The tarot deck speaks to me-

major arcana; the fool

I thought you’d understand by now

that the universe

ebbs and flows

karma comes back in threes, dear jester

are you absolutely sure

that you’re ready to reap

what you’ve sown?

I can forget, but the universe won’t // hnl 2020

[badpoetsclub]

I had a dream that I was talking to god in a greenhouse.

I walked around for awhile until I came to a stairwell that lead to what looked like the Garden of Eden, only darker. I started making my descent when a voice boomed overhead.

“You may ask me one question.”

I stalled for a second. My belief in god wavered over the last 5 years. The only spirituality I felt came from my own existence. Still, I wondered. I continued stepping.

“Who is my soulmate? Is that easy enough for you?”

I smiled like a jackass and looked towards the garden, hoping I’d see the face of the person who was meant for me. Suddenly everything in the room went dark. The flowers in bloom wilted and the steps started to disappear underneath me. The handrails I was grasping onto coiled like snakes and wrapped around me with a vengeance. I was lifted up towards the only light left in the room, a sunroof. The rails wrapped around my neck and I started to cry. The voice returned, but it sounded angry.

“That was the wrong question. You don’t have one.”

I woke with a start and realized that I had been crying. As I calmed myself down, I looked at my hands and feet. The realization started to flow through me like water.

I am meant for me, no one else. Maybe not even god.

the dream I had on Wednesday // hnl 2020

[badpoetsclub]

I’m trying to learn what lonely is again. That raw feeling of having no one to come home to, having no one to kiss me on rainy days, having no one feeling obligated to tell me good morning, beautiful. A lot of people think lonely is a negative feeling, but not me. It’s here that I feel most powerful, most silent. I have no one to rely on but me.

[badpoetsclub]

There are some days that I’m angry for not being soft and admirable. I wish I were the type of girl who is made from sunshine and a warm breeze. I wish that with each step I take, I leave a mess of wildflowers behind me.

But I am a girl made from thunderstorms and peach pits. I am empty wine bottles and broken bones. My soul has a few cracks, but I am not shattered. There is power in my voice and song, and while I may not leave behind flower petals, my footsteps are not ignored.

No, I am not a girl made of sugar and spice. But I am made of scraped knees, innocent “I love you’s,” and a starlight that can’t be touched.

wilting roses, steel cores // hnl 2020

[badpoetsclub]

hot take: don’t tell someone you love them if you don’t fully understand what it takes to love them

[badpoetsclub]

U are such a good poet and so pretty!! 💓🥺🦋

Thank you!! Needed this tonight friend ❤️

[badpoetsclub]

Her eyes held malice when she looked at me; her mouth told lies and took advantage of my naivety. This is wrong, I think. This hurts, I think. This is going to break my heart. I still cry when she leaves.

the girl with a chip on her shoulder// hnl 2020

[damianimated]

Pride was always a protest.

[damianimated]

Here is a list of Black-led LGBTQ community organizations you can donate to, compiled by pfpicardi and RaquelWillis_:

Snapco - Builds power of Black trans and queer people to force systemic divestment from the prison industrial complex and invest in community support.

Black AIDS Institute - Working to end the Black HIV epidemic through policy, advocacy, and high-quality direct HIV services.

Trans Cultural District - The world’s first-ever legally recognized trans district, which aims to stabilize and economically empower the trans community.

LGBTQ+ Freedom Fund - Posts bail for LGBTQ+ people held in jail or immigrant detention and raises awareness of the epidemic of LGBTQ overincarceration.

House of GG - Creating safe and transformative spaces for community to heal, and nurturing them into tomorrow’s leaders, focusing on trans women of color in the South.

Trans Justice Funding Project - Community-led funding initiative to support grassroots trans justice groups run by and for trans people.

The Okra Project - Collective that seeks to address the global crisis faced by Black trans people by bringing home-cooked meals and resources to the community.

Youth Breakout - Works to end the criminalization of LGBTQ youth in New Orleans to build a safer and more just community.

[badpoetsclub]

Death and I haven’t spoken in a few years. Last I saw him, he was peering at me over my friends grandmothers shoulders the week before she passed. It’s here with me, she’d said sadly, and I smiled weakly because I knew it.

Now he sits near my own grandmother. She’s frail and the doctors aren’t making any promises. The rest of my family won’t look him in the eye. I greet him like an old friend.

“You look tired,” he says, and I nod.

“That’s because I am tired.” He gives me that sly smile.

“In a lot of different ways it seems.”

I want to roll my eyes, but he’s right. My soul hasn’t felt this heavy since I was 16. I sit next to my mawmaw as she sleeps.

“You’re not as afraid of me as you once were,” he says suddenly.

I shrug. “A lot’s changed I guess.”

“Has it? From the looks of it my dear, you’re a little worse for wear.”

I’m angry now. I wanna scream that he’s wrong, that I’m healed and I’ve aged like fine wine. But I look at my rib cage poking out and the dark circles under my eyes and I know he’s right.

“I’ll be seeing you.” He leaves in a hush. I look at my grandmother and realize with a familiar sting that I don’t know if he was talking about her or me.

honey don’t feed it, it will come back // hnl 2019

[badpoetsclub]

I want to post a really dark poem bc of my headspace rn but is that too annoying and depressing? Let me know

[badpoetsclub]

Someday I’ll be okay. I’ll have a room full of plants and sunlight and it’ll all feel okay again.