The One About New York

The One About New York

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

So the thing about New York;

The city is so big that it starts to feel small,

there are so many people that it seems like you're alone,

And there are so many fingerprints left over from the past paired with so much movement towards the future that you are forced to live in the present moment.

I know.

It sounds like a contradiction.

But, trust me...it makes so much sense.

All Rights Reserved

17 Lessons I Learned from 2017

17 Lessons I Learned from 2017

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

1. Stage fright goes away.

2. Airports make me feel melancholy.

3. Sometimes, a sea breeze is all you need in order to feel like you belong.

4. Distance makes the heart grow tired.

5. There are tiny book shops and cozy coffee stores in Virginia.

6. Hard work pays off.

7. Hard work is oftentimes left unnoticed.

8. Friends who are in plays together, stay together.

9. Sometimes, boys really do kiss you on the front porch.

10. I look good in purple.

11. Snow is real. And magical. And very cold.

12. Sometimes, boys leave before you get the chance to ask all of the questions you had prepared for them.

13. Broken hearts are still able to function.

14. Boyfriend jeans make me feel pretty.

15. No matter how short I cut my hair, it will still somehow manage to get in the way.

16. It's okay to give yourself a minute to breathe. It's not a waste of time.

17. Broken hearts can be pieced back together. It just takes a little time.

All Rights Reserved

Dec. 25, 2017

Dec. 25, 2017

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

Short texts.

Shaky breaths.

I'm hurting.

You're quiet.

All Rights Reserved

Untitled

Untitled

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

A few months ago, I told someone that the only bad thing about being with you was that happiness gives me writers block.

Never fear.

When you left me, the words came back.

I guess I'm not that alone after all.

All Rights Reserved

Not According to Plan

Not According to Plan

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

And so it goes...

Right place.

Wrong time.

Complicated.

All Rights Reserved

Bet

Bet

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

You will find yourself in between the lines of Shakespeare;

Tucked into the corners of letters and standing atop the punctuation marks.

Take your blinders off.

You are not Pandora's box.

You are fingerprints on windowsills;

Loud and boisterous laughs.

You're the minor keys.

You are quiet footsteps and shadows that stand ten feet tall, depending on where the sun is.

You are broken. As are the rest of us.

There's nothing wrong with that.

You can't expect to come out of this life without a little wear and tear.

You are crossed arms and raised eyebrows,

and sometimes really stupid jokes.

Find the good. Run towards it.

There's no need for a map.

Stop waiting for one.

All Rights Reserved

In Response to Maya Angelou

In Response to Maya Angelou

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

She knows why the caged bird sings,

and I know what it's like to have clipped wings.

I could pull myself up, but I need a breeze,

So please go on and breathe on for me.

My wings are stiff and sometimes tired;

Yours are ones to be admired.

I think that you and Atlas conspired

to make the skies your own.

So help me leap off of the roof;

in the clouds, will I find silver-lined truth?

As I'm falling slowly, I won't confuse

New beginnings with the ground.

All Rights Reserved