By Henri Whitehead When I, a young adolescent, would stare at the stars above, I felt both simultaneously frightened and fascinated. Because like many before, I wanted to understand the rules That spun the Earth round And built roads from rubble. I wanted to see the cardboard walls That held together this game of life, … Continue reading Poem: Space
Poem: Daisy
Daisy By Henri Whitehead Gatsby believed in the green light. And for much of my twenties, I searched for that same sweet signal That calls to us all when we parade through social media, announcing success of life, But in secret reunions with our consciences, We know that light was never really found, And will … Continue reading Poem: Daisy
Poem: Last Man on Earth
By Henri Whitehead If I were the last man on Earth, No gas station would be safe, From my looting skills, Bags of Sour Gummies Would fly off the shelves, Till I vomit at the sight of them. If I were the last man on Earth, I would run amok in the mall, I would … Continue reading Poem: Last Man on Earth
Poem: Tiny House
By Henri Whitehead In our tiny house, We’ll live by the trees. The tranquility of a pond, Will sooth our troubled minds. In our tiny house, We’ll snuggle in the shade, Our TV will be the window, The squirrels, an acting troupe. In our tiny house, We’ll read by moonlight, The fates that our written, … Continue reading Poem: Tiny House
Poem: Door to Heaven
Door to Heaven By Henri Whitehead The door to Heaven is no pearly gate, Where you can roll up in your Rolls Royce, And snap two wrinkled white fingers To summon the world-weary valet. Who you constantly refer to as that Mexican Boy, Even though he’s a proud Guatemalan, And the sole provider for his … Continue reading Poem: Door to Heaven
Poem: Without My Glasses
Without My Glasses By Henri Whitehead Without my glasses, The distinctive lines drawn By our world’s creator Are no more than Drops of color in the distance. The concrete, scientific rules That instruct the sun to set for the evening Turn to abstract, and Empty lines are filled with My imagination. The nightmarish grey blobs … Continue reading Poem: Without My Glasses
