I love words and dig poetry slams. I've been writing poetry since I was about 5 years old and my mother tells everyone I was born with a pen in my hand. I am a project manager by profession and reside in Utah with my handsome husband and our two outstanding children. You can read more of my work and follow my poetry adventures here: http://trishhopkinson.com/.
The 13th Sign of the Zodiac
Those born under the sign, Ambiguu,
have an unknown date of birth or a different birthday
than the day upon which it is celebrated.
Ambiguus tend to be travelers,
truth-sayers, and meditators.
Often encompassed in the uncertainty
of their birth history, they are accepting,
nonjudgmental, and kind.
They have a taste for bread, seafood, and wine.
Not horribly good swimmers,
they prefer walking in open-toed shoes.
Ambiguus are luminous leaders
and are commonly followed by friends,
a dozen or so. Ambiguus love little children
and are regularly religious.
Today may be the day
to discover your birthday, but only
if you are brave enough to turn over
the dust on your tongue and slide it
along molar and fang, scraping
away your own existence.
With the new moon just past,
mystery will reveal itself beneath
your nails and tug at your hair
with unusual force, urging you toward
distant constellations and unknown worlds.
Pack lightly or pack nothing.
It’s a virtuous day for beard shaving.
—Originally published in the Mythic Poetry Series. Silver Birch Press. October 22, 2014.
an erasure in reverse of Ferlinghetti’s “I am Waiting”
I am fleeing.
I am my typewriter.
I am green.
I am my childhood.
I am wonder.
I am the dream
of innocence in Wonderland
and I am Tom Sawyer
and I am birth, music, sound
and I am reconstructed
happiness, the storms of life
and eternal life discovered.
I am anxiously new.
I am like rain
and I am the earth
and I am salvation waiting
to be called.
I am perpetually new again.
I am the channel.
Really, I am.
I am the state of revival,
a birth of wonder--
perpetually, I am.
I am anarchy.
I am waiting to up and fly.
I am a new discovery.
I am someone
and I am,
I am waiting.
—Originally published in the I am Waiting Series. Silver Birch Press. December 2014.
When we were kids
it was you and me
against the world, or so it seemed.
I used to complain that life wasn't fair--
you got all the good looks,
the personality, the hair;
and even though I was older,
people knew me by my brother.
When I was introduced to someone new,
it was me that was related to you.
You did the things I only wanted to do
and always disproved the doubters.
When I should have paved the path
or started some sort of legacy,
I looked to you instead.
The truth is, I was always proud
of everything you did.
I've known you your whole life and most of mine.
Some of my first memories were of you as a baby,
and though we tormented each other
a little when we were younger,
you put up with my manipulation and teasing,
because being the oldest, I always got my way.
You could have held it all against me,
but I don't think you ever did.
When things were tough and you needed me,
I couldn't wait to give you all I had.
I always felt you gave your best to me
by just being yourself
and letting me enjoy your company.
There are many times you've been there for me
when no one else would listen
and you’ve always acted so interested.
There's no judgment between us,
no regrets or resentment,
nothing but support and encouragement,
and the joy of seeing each other succeed.
I love my sisters, don't get me wrong,
but there's nothing like our friendship,
and there's no one like my little brother Jon.
©2015 Trish Hopkinson