Lindsay loves to read, write and perform poetry, discovering its magic while an undergraduate at Cornell and after graduation while living in NYC. She has performed in open mic slams at Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Below are a few of her (favorite, yet unpublished) poems:
“Hail to the Chief”
Hail to the chief
of my lust and life
always there to monitor, watch look
and stare
he hails from humble means
stickball in the streets
there were no parks or green
or space in between
sometimes food on the table
sometimes not
Mom taking time to do what she can
when she is able
in between fits and spells
of wine and pills
threatening to toss clothes out of the window if they’re not put away
Hail from the sky
falling all arround me
surrounding me with crisp pitter pats
like a snare
a wakeup
a refresh
all of it for me
perfectly timed
when I am home safe
always home safe
Home
Is
Where
You
Feel
Safe.
From where do you hail?
Oh, you mean where am I from…New York!!
my once stomping ground
where no corner was left unexplored
except for perhaps feeling like I “made it”
New York
you have been through hell
over the last year
trying to find yourself
again
building character from the ground up
because that’s what we do
Oh, how I miss you.
“Whisper Winds”
Whisper winds ride bareback
on branches
having the time of their life
leaves prepare to go bold
blissful orange
then detach from their base and take flight
horses and joggers pound Central Park's
pavement
rolling stones the beats'
understatement
they glide on the bridle path
whatever doesn't last
wasn't meant to but
I do want perfect pictures to stay the same
or come again.
____________
“Transportation”
Transportation
from one feeling
to the next
offering
pretty
powerful
rides
feeling fixes
pleasure prizes
wrapped inside
dense
denial
clouds.
______________
“What Is A Memory”
when it's lost on you
when you repeat the same pattern
again
and
again
a
memory
can be put aside
or called up
a memory
can be brought center stage
appear in form
another
and
another
it happened once before
and before it's too late
it may happen
again
put aside a memory
relegate it into that one compartment
with heart
I meant
open up a memory
for solace comfort company
a gift that keeps
understand a memory
a new way in a day
a new way in a week
a new way in a month
a new way in a moment
protect me from a memory
by releasing
feelings
it generates sapping
present moment dry
of truth
causing a good cry
memories can feel stronger than my
own
self
still
they can be laughed away
release
place on a shelf
share
revisit
release again
take off the shelf
did he care
what is it
release
I've heard it said
look back
don't stare
release
what is
just a memory.
____________
“New Moon”
Catching crossed
signals
a peaceful slowing down
where is there
space
that isn't theatre
amplifying
competing
practicalities
superficialities
or
accepting
through people acting
like angels
brilliant colors my
joy from all angles
life looking beautiful now
whether I'm looking within
or
out
or
up
consciously pointing out what
moves, motivates
thrills me
distancing myself from that
beast
that sickness
whatever words could attempt
always unsuccessfully
to describe the suffering it causes
golden moments
precious
emerge only after distance
is acquired
not by running or walking
even
but by
releasing those cement blocks
stepping around potholes you fell into
many many times before
accepting once again once more
those fine, finite principles that say
simply
the past is over and like
a new moon cycle you
true
come along again.
“Beautiful, Like Me”
You are beautiful
like me
the robust
rich
rose
alternating between
bouquets of friends.
and standing alone
on a single stem.
__________
“The Din”
the New York sky is snowing
an invitation I feel like letting go
of that one
rattling my core
of listening to my story
with one ear only
your other hot pressed against my pillow
I feel like letting go
of the grand
of the great
of the immeasurable
illusion of control
grateful for the cold wind
pressed against my face
reminding me no hiding place
is worth the pain isolation brings
grateful to get back to my life
while you live yours
I live mine
certain
I shut the doors
to the din that disrupts
peace
my peace
the peace
I worked hard to discover
and allow
and believe
I deserve
I am asking for the courage to let go
when
the
snow
stops.
________
“For David”
whispers from burnt sienna leaves
Central Park’s trees
standing tall and proud as mother nature
drops November rain
a child skips over puddles and announces his
presence with a jubilant
thud
while a golden lab tip toes and protects
only the scent and sound of leaves soothe my mind
squirrels squirming through holes in the fence help me leave it all behind
graceful November fall
vigorous November fall
away from Zabar’s, noisy bars, Fairway, life not feeling fair today
away from ambition which blinds and corrupts each innocent action and expression
warding off a visit from depression in the
autumn whisper wind
fresh breath
surreptitious sigh
dropping the masks, plunk
this is not the place for everyone
November clouds do not seek grandeur or gold
just to dim the sky
the little boy speaks of ice cream sundaes and the golden lab’s ears perk up
bright yellow leaf lightly falls in my lap
breeze catching curls on my neck
when the soul for something longs
but sits alone
it is nature which offers
a comfort song.