But...wait!

seriously ask yourself

delivering thanks to their Majesty:                                                          do plants blow kisses to bees? 

 

sneaking through heads of trees:                             where do Clouds plan to hijack Sun’s spotlight?

soaking up the Light of day:                                           what does she do when Moon sticks around?

                                                                                            has she even met the Stars? those pretty faces

                                                                                                                             how absorbed they are ~ oh

                                                                                                                       I am sure she would shed a tear  

seriously ask yourself

as if to mock those sticks in the mud

next to Fern bathing in Mother’s rays

as if he heard them gossiping

flowers reaching above his head:                                                                    how does it make Soil feel?

 

seriously ask yourself

in their cocoon of expired 

beliefs and exhausted dreams:                                                                       what do doubts sound like? 

 

our Eyes crave fumes of feasts: soaking up 

handfuls of potatoes and garlic could never 

suffice for tongues hanging by the greed of lips:                could they ever forget the taste of regret? 

 

Risks reek of sour milk

and park beneath necks of teeth ~ so                                                                           what if you choke?   

                                                                                                                           would you take another bite?

Nicole Rose Schoonbrood has been acknowledged for her jarring language and outlandish imagery by the awarded poets Joseph Lease and Heather Gibbons. In the process of completing a Bachelor's Degree in Creative Writing at SFSU, Nicole has discovered the driving grotesquery and rawness of her work. Nicole finds the exploration of self, the interaction between experience and consciousness, as well as the eternal unknown to be the core performers of her imagination.

 

While she has yet to be published herself, Nicole enjoys watching her stacking list of rejections. She revels in the notion that none of these organizations were ready for her work and they will wish to have been apart of her slow-growing, but long-lasting creative career. All the rain could not wash away her light, she will costume to burn with all her might.

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