Poetry Friday: White Ribbons

White Ribbons

The white house on the corner,
with lavender blooms tracing the fence till
fall, where the little girl had worn her
hair up, hiding behind her sharpened pencil.

Worn her hair up, blonde curls in white ribbons. Molly
read her fairytales in the treetops, dreaming
of walnuts, and castles, and red trolleys.
Sunlight poured through curtain leaves; shining, streaming.

Sunlight poured onto old story pages, shafts of
gold on black print. Molly swung her feet, her
hands on low branches, and through the air her laughter
fell upon the ears of Peter.

Her laughter fell, but sighed soft now,
quiet like a hymn in church. But Peter, all he
did was smile and walk, turning down
the lane, and behind him treaded Molly.

Turning down the lane, he began to run,
his feet barely touching earth. Molly
watched with wide eyes; she had come
from her fairytales, quiet like snowflakes, following.

Come from her fairytales, blonde curls in white
ribbons, and she looked at the sky.
She untied her hair, wore it down, reflecting light.
Peter taught her to run; she learned how to fly.

* * *

The white house on the corner,
with gentle blossoms on trees where birds
sang, where the little girl had worn her
hair up, hiding behind her whispered words.

White ribbons on low branches, sunbeams on blonde curls.
A book between their laps, children dreamed of
warm raindrops in August. A boy and girl
read softly to each other, learning how to love.

Poetry Friday: Three Years Later

(For Mrs. Hogan)

Three Years Later

They warned me since the beginning
that Honors Pre-Calc was tough.
I watched Andrew, Zach, and Doug do work
using theta, vectors, and stuff.

The teacher, a gal affectionately known
as a homework corrector from Heck,
was petite with a smile that was fast as a flash
and a chocolate bar always on deck.

My fears were relieved as the months went by
and my math career didn’t just end,
for along with the knowledge I gained of sine,
my teacher became my friend.

So now that the world’s been torn in two,
I really just want to say:
Thank you so, so much for understanding;
you were an angel to me today.


So this is real: I would never be the person I am without the people I’ve known over my lifetime. Some examples are my parents, my teachers, my best friends, and my enemies. And ever since I posted that video of my brother’s band, I feel like, what if I could post a couple more videos from my friends? Kind of give credit where credit is due. Because honestly, reader, if you’re reading this blog, you’re probably not on here to witness my amazing literary prowess. You’re probably still reading this because you like knowing that there is in fact a human out there named Maney who is just surviving day by day, much like you. Therefore, I ask you to support some other awesome humans out there and watch as least one of the following videos. (These are three of my good friends.)

Keep being cool, and again I implore, keep creating art!


“Girl on Fire” (Four minute classy music video of Alicia Keys’ song “Girl on Fire.”)

“Brave” (Four minute music video of four Mormon chicks getting their brave on with “Brave” by Sara Bareilles.)

James S

“Chase Playing Fetch” (Three minutes of an adorable game of fetch between a dog and his human companion.)

Jessica Jenson

“Africano” (Seven minutes of gorgeous percussion on (I believe) a marimba.)

Bonus Material:

Now, if you’re really serious about having a good time watching amateur film-making, you should invest an hour or so watching these hilariously unprofessional movies by TransparentClouds. Remember, though, that this gorgeous girl is currently serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, so she won’t be making any more videos for another year or so.

“Infected Movie” (Thirty minutes of a well-meaning doctor dealing with a zombie epidemic of his own creation.)

“Falcon’s Kill” (Fifty-eight minutes of a thrill-packed romantic/spy/action movie.)


This is for my sweetheart.

It always amazes me that after the things I’ve gone through, I can still find a place in my black and smoking heart to keep him. I feel so mangled sometimes, like a crushed china plate, or a grimy, cobwebbed window, or a hopeless love song lost at sea. I’m drifting through life, barely breathing, hardly speaking, and my anchors to the world slip constantly through my cold fingers. And I’m alone, all alone, so alone and utterly lonely.

And he, he is warm laughter ringing through white noise. He is crinkly, blue trapezoid eyes and shy smiles and sunbeam eyelashes. He is fingers dancing over piano keys and knowing how to waltz and listening listening listening. He is calling me a sassbox; he is reminding me softly, “Good things are worth waiting for.” He is spastic dance-parties and homemade German pancakes and inviting me to join the friend group. And he, he is looking at the stars and thinking about me. He, he, is thinking about me.

If we don’t work out, if we’re never really together, if it just can’t be, then I will be grateful for that breathtaking boy who made me feel like I could be whole again. Because love isn’t just selfies and diamonds and babies and taxes, although those pieces have their place.

Love, I think, is changing people from the inside out, making them better. And I will always love my querido, if only for the way he taught me to love myself.

Concerning Love

Christmas is coming up and it makes me wonder what I want from Santa. People keep reminding me that Christmas is nine days away, eight days away, one week away… but for some reason, the actual day of opening presents doesn’t mean as much to me as it used to. A lot of my loved ones are far away this season, and I know that packages tied up with bows won’t fill the hole in my heart.

I recently talked to my counselor about caring for the people in my life. Our conversation made me think about how grateful I am to have people to love, despite the sadness and longing I feel when thinking of them. I’m so blessed to be able to love after everything I’ve been through. I have a freakish capacity to love–and it opens my heart to feel freakish amounts of pain. I can count on one hand the people I know who love as deeply as I do. It’s a gift and a curse. 

So although Santa can’t bring my friends and family home, this Christmas I love and am loved. That’s the best gift I could never ask for. I can be courageous, compassionate, and connected. I can live a wholehearted life–we all can. Even though it’s scary to open my heart, I won’t give up on love. Love makes us human; love makes us immortal. As Toulouse screams from the rafters, “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”