Welcome to my poetry blog!

I am a twenty-four brown-eyed Aruban wanderer;
forever questioning where I'm going
and where I've been.
And when I'm not reading,
I'm writing. When I'm not writing, I'm reading.

Furthermore, writing has always been my
way of captivating a deep thought, grief,
lost love, depression and even hatred (sometimes).

Feel free to read and comment on my weird,
puzzling, obsessive, reckless and sometimes
confusing poems. It's all about what you
interpret from them that gets me buzzin'!

Thank you and have fun reading y'all.

-Lily Clarisa

Saturday, June 29, 2013

One Syllable

One Syllable
Some days I wake up with your name on my lips;
just one syllable,
And my heart aches for days.

Some days I dream of your long hair;
Prettier than mine,
And I wake up smiling.

Some days I daydream about our days together;
flashes of laughter and love,
And find myself twirling the ring on my finger.

Some days I lie around thinking of you;
how bittersweet it still is,
And you must probably loathe me – with;

Just one syllable.

My Words

My Words
There are words,
murmured in darkness,
that bleeds,
during the day.

There are words,
yelled down streets,
that live,
with each young breath.

There are words,
sung with you,
throughout the years,
that make us real.

There are words,
said by me,
that die,
with each passing year.

My words to you, my dear.

The Aisle

The Aisle
There’s no preacher here.
No way to hide your fear.
Drink up - consume 

She’s not wearing white.
It’s just not right.
Look up- presume

What’s this music?
Why country, metal and pop?
Listen up- assume

This laughter bubbling,
Dance feet trembling,
Hurry up- resume

Tea Cup

Tea Cup
Pick a flavor,
Try your luck,
Yours to savor,
Lose a buck.

Shaped round,
Lips to mound,

Tea cup,
oh, tea cup;
fragile in my hand.

Tea cup,
oh, tea cup;
put the red linens away.

You’re my hot tea cup,
My flavor to savor.


Pieces break off.
- Ouch! 

Streaming down my lips.
- Blood!

The word strikes fear.
- Stop!

It’s all done.
- Bye…

Openly Reserved

Openly Reserved
Wince in pain,
Love in vain.
Keep the rumors at bay.

Whispers of shame,
Levity of none.
The hound is the dog.

One flick of the wrist,
eyes battered – black
Openly Reserved.