Poetry (62)

Hello Escritori,

I felt extremely angsty when I wrote this. I’m sure that by Sunday the original impetus will have exhausted itself, but sometimes I feel like everyone I meet has nothing but milk for blood and very little decisiveness and soul about what they want: despite being adults.

The White Room Finale will be on the blog on Tuesday.


Kind of… Girl?

I am the kind of girl

Who won’t be other

Than clever, and playful:

Who’ll make a worthy


Out of an average day.

And  who drinks milk

Out of a champagne flute

On her birthday.


I am the kind of girl

Who only buys shoes

She can run in.

And has friends

For whom she’d take a bullet.

(No thinking,

Or blinking about it.)


I am the kind of girl

Who won’t bear


For honest efforts.

Who loves more fiercely

Than hate can reach

Who thinks, acts, moves and speaks

Intensely. Without apology.

Who will see your boundaries

But gently, teach.


I am the kind of girl

Who cares.

So sue me.

For better or worse,

I live passionately.


Upon looking,

If you only ever saw a girl

And not a woman,

Then, clearly, you never knew me.


(© Copyright Pola Negri, 02/10/2016.)


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