It’s an oldie but goodie. Enjoy!

My First Time Reciting Poetry
By: Crystal Coburn

I wonder what it will be like
The first time it comes close to my lips
Will I grab the challenge firmly?
Or start softly like a kiss
Will I shy away timidly?
Scared to really blow it
And if I freeze on the spot in anticipation
I’m hoping my hidden talent will take over

Will the one I love support me?
As he yearns to see me breath
Will I dare to stare in his eyes?
While his heart slowly picks up speed
And if my hair falls in my face
Is that part of the experience
Will my stomach feel slightly queasy?
From how strong it’s resonating from my pace
Will I move into the light confidently?
With crazy thoughts racing through my head
It’s getting harder and harder, I can feel it
The shiny top of that black head

This is a lot of pressure you know
You can never prepare enough
Just drink a lot of water
So your mouth doesn’t get dry or rough
My girls all told me to just do it
Once you start you won’t quit
Even though they swear they’re never done it before
They saw it on TV quite a bit
So I shouldn’t be so shy
‘Cause I’ll eventually get it right
When he gazes at you intently
You will know the ending is in sight
Just like that it’ll be over
Especially on your first time
Everyone will be surprised you took it there
Something like a standing ovation in the sunrise

Now think about my words
And the images I just painted
Can you picture what I expressed to you?
I hope I didn’t make the moment tainted
I would encourage you all to go home tonight
And think about how I just made history
I can imagine what you thought I meant
But I was just talking about my first time
Grabbing the mic and reciting my poetry

(find)Peace.

Poetry

…not cool enough for you but is really cool with that, so just cool on the attitude. When you’re done making stank faces and giving fake embraces you can find me over there writing the cool off your face.

That’s my word.
Peace.

Is it too soon to be reposting my own stuff? Naw, never! When something is good it never gets old. The above statement is a repost of my own words that is almost a year old. I still get chills over ill ish I did even if its just a random (but true) thought I had one predictable day.

Everything & Anything, Poetry

I’m a writer, right.
Except I don’t write what other writers write, right.

–

The cursor is blinking again, but I’m done.

Everything & Anything, Poetry

Any excuse just to
see you.
Any excuse just to
breathe you.
Staring at the thoughts of
you, wondering how bad
I could really
need you.

Poetry

This poem is one I had tucked away for a very long time. It came to me one day over a comment someone (I can’t remember who now) made about the girls in the R. Kelly home made video who “wanted” to have sex with him, therefore there wasn’t a crime. As usual I got pissed off, and as usual so did my pen. So that’s also to let you know that this story is not mine, but I know it belongs to many others, too many in fact. I’ve finally finished it to my liking so I hope you all enjoy it.

She Knows She Wanted It
By: Crystal ‘Clear’ Coburn

Daddy the man that touched me
knew I was underage
He said I was close enough to a woman
Only a few years short of my woman stage
He did a lot of things to me
Some I know you’ll hate
But don’t worry I took it like a champ
I think I maybe, probably, sort of wanted it anyway

He said we could be better friends
when I turned old enough to vote
But for now we’ll have to be in secret
Because no one will understand
They can’t know
I thought I should tell you though
‘cause maybe you wouldn’t mind
does it seem wrong to you?
My grown looking body you can’t deny
I’ve done it at school with the boys before
He said I was on point
I’m better than the other girls
You should have heard him beg for more

Don’t be mad at him Daddy
I’m practically 16
That’s a little less than half his age
At least I’m older than a preteen
Plus I’ve heard the way you talk
With your friends about the women who pass
Sizing up their figure
Nothing less than an hourglass
And I know he’ll like me more
You know, the guy that’s older than me
I have to become a big girl now
So don’t cry, at least not for me

You have always told me I’m pretty
A comment that is sometimes a bore
But maybe you should have told me
That he wouldn’t consider me
Nothing but a whore
And perhaps you should have told me
To wait until I’m ready
Maybe then
I wouldn’t have to look down
At my spreading belly

–

Thank you for reading it.
Peace.

Poetry

This is an tiny excerpt from a poem I haven’t finished yet. Its the ending of it, but the whole piece isn’t good enough for me to post, unfortunately it still requires a lot of work. I really like where I’m going with this so I was too anxious to wait until I’m done. I promise though that when its all done I’ll post the full thing. Thank you for reading what little is right.

Innocent Young Girl (Unofficially)
By: Crystal Coburn

Innocent young girl
Your future is bright
I believe in you more than you know
Despite all the things
people predict you will be
There’s no telling how far you’ll go
Promise you won’t grow up too fast
And you’ll enjoy the age you are
Because as time goes by
You’ll realize
Life was perfect when it moved slow.

Poetry

Success
By: Crystal ‘Clear’ Coburn

All the people around me
seem to be wishing me the best
To be ahead in this monetary game
By increasing my monetary gain
Success

I can’t help but feel the pressure of completion
To finish with a title
A clear-cut distinction
Is it wrong of me
to waiver in search of something more?
I feel like turning in
Find the place less explored

I’m sharing my thoughts of doubt
Because I feel the intense need to
Hoping you’ll understand
And reply with a, “Me too!”
I’m at a point now
where all I want to do is write
Make lives just a little better
Possibly to ignite
That place inside of you
that has tingled and become slightly unnerved
I have been there too
Knowing which way to turn

Sometimes taking up residence
a little to often
So I allow my pen to pick up and take over
Seep out held in thoughts when
I was unsure of myself and the decisions I made
Too nervous or anxious?
Definitely afraid

But I’m here now
So I hope you can hear now
Join me and lets engage

Peace.

Poetry

I am a gold digger. In its truest form. I’ve been digging in this same spot for what’s under it, hoping to finally score.

I am a gold digger. With a rusty bent up spade. I’ve been digging for years in the sun and the shade, under layers of pessimism, doubt, and blame.

I am a gold digger. And I won’t stop until I find my treasure, because what’s buried under there has to be better than the obvious that I can share.

I am a gold digger. So shut up and let me dig. Don’t give me that look like I’m digging for nothing because when I find it you will surely be ashamed.

I am a gold digger. That has been throwing dirt aside for many years. The one thing I’ve learned that has helped me a lot is that the dirt is softest when there are tears.

Peace.

Poetry

Right after I changed my facebook status to something positive and uplifting for the day ahead I got a phone call that side swiped those feelings. While the end result of what happened could have been a lot worse the events that did take place were enough to make my heart stop. The mother of a person very very close to my heart was robbed last night at gun point. When I heard those words I couldn’t believe it. I assumed this person was joking.

I can tell you right now that if that trigger had been pulled my life would be over. I don’t know how else to say it. It would be over. I wrote a short poem to kind of channel my feelings. It isn’t anything spectacular and maybe a bit rushed but I did it anyway.

–

If today had been her last day
I can’t even remember the last thing I had to say
and I know he couldn’t handle
the impact of the blast that never came.
All the days pass and I think they’re just the same
When today could have been her last
nothing lasts they say.

I wake up every morning assuming there will be more
until another life changes
drastically making my ceiling, floor.
Rubbing my sleepy eyes
I curse the open sun
Today could have been her last
and I’m thinking of another one.

If today had been her last
I think it would be his too.
Because his life without her
is not a life for Q.

Because today isn’t her last
I will tell her I love her the next time we meet.
Even if it means
saying it on the street.
I’m happy today wasn’t her last,
even though nothing lasts
they say.
Today could have been her last
but it’s not
not today.

Thank you. And I love you both.
Peace.

Poetry

I walked right in there will my full afro
Daring them to pick it out as the most offensive gesture
With the ends exposed and free
And my dome securely hidden.

It is my shield
My force field
My battle field

The place where contents are written.

Peace.

Poetry