March 2016 | Poetry Camp

Most of the poems that I wrote in the month of March (2016) were from a poetry project called, Elliot. Originally, Elliot is a character from All is Well in the Waters which was a novel draft I wrote between the 8th and 9th grade. After so many revisions, I decided to turn the novel to a poetry book with each of the main characters’ perspectives, Rowan, Elliot and Claire were written.

Note that these poems are only drafts and not the edited and revised, which means that you will find mistakes and errors as you read. Also, my writing style and skills are evolving constantly overtime and that this page is only a storage for all of the poems that I wrote and that I made public so you can join me in this writing journey.

March 12, 2016 | The Other Side

That was the cold side of the world

when lips turned violet and birds halted their flights

rivers melted the paperboats

and days hid from endless nights

That was the other side of the coin

that aftermath of every heartbreak

limping and crawling towards every teenage girls

whose sad song playlists looped in reverse

And that was where I was

where I’ve always been

faking the horizon every sunrise and sunset

just to feel the summer all over again

March 13, 2016 | As If You’ve Just Finished Loving

As if you’ve just finished loving

curling your lips against hers

hugging her from behind

as if you’ve just finished loving

As if the void called your heart a home

the air dispersing from your lungs

as if she did the same to you

as if you’ve just finished loving

March 14, 2016 | I’ve been there

I’ve been there

been a teenage girl who wrote poems about boys

played heartbreak songs more than love songs

cried more than smile like I’ve been here before

I’ve been there

turning up the radio to dance crazily

watch myself in the mirror and call myself ugly

like I’ve been here before

I’ve been there

and I’m still there

and my heart still broken

for staying there when I shouldn’t have

March 16, 2016 | I’ve been there

Written in a billion skies

are the screams that turned to tears

through sleepless nights and endless days

when mirrors displayed your fears

When in the middle are the stars

that left you in different directions through veins and quick heartbeats

told you you’re one in a billion

March 21, 2016 | Open

With every bullets fired,

water streamed from out of the gutters of your body

water from your eyes sliding to your cheeks

all of it, I could see

March 24, 2016 | Spiral

Spiral

a blank dot in a high forest

smelling of leaking grease

of vaunted cemetery

of secular souls

Bones, bones, and rotten flesh

a watery streak from raw eye sockets

a chant that was missed to send

a chant he never heard

from out of the high priest’s mouth

A spiral

hypnotic in the sight of the learned and the ignorant

A spiral within us

March 25, 2016 | Spiral

Learning and relearning directions

igniting signal fire of aspirations

encasing the concept of logic

soaring high with wings of aspiration

March 26, 2016 | Words

You write words that wouldn’t have mattered if they were just words

and they were more than that

They were magic

March 27, 2016 | Come closer

Come closer

the closest where most people are afraid

Between us two,

galaxies and planets perform their magic too

March 28, 2016 | Pretty Lies

And I’ve seen your face

engraved in the back of my head

It fades and fades and fades

with those pretty lies you’ve said

March 30, 2016 | Pretty Lies

There were only birds that escaped

like blood from out of their bodies

and feeble they are as the night grew

babies lived and died and no one knew

And mothers lugged knives on their stomachs

and fathers wandered and got lost in the darkness

Kings and queens sold their crowns for food

and I dream all these one night in my bed

T.L. Thornes is a writer residing in Ilocos Sur, Philippines. She was twelve when she started keeping drafts of her poems in composition notebooks. Since then, she has found an emotional outlet through writing. When she’s not writing, she can be found in the streets of her hometown, urbansketching, or in her room, writing songs and making art journals.

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