His lips must have been born in winter. But I did it anyway, and I'm proud of that. He had pothole dimples and a collection of white teeth so perfect you could tell God got to him first. In a dark room, I assembled myself the way I imagined a girl should: arms up in position, and pregnant with waiting. He kissed me and I waited for the flood, I waited for God to gift me my own desire, for the angsty snow to melt between us, for the muscles in my neck to howl in an octave I've never known, for the next chapter of my womanhood to appear, and none of that happened. See, when you get stood up by your own first kiss, you feel like nothing belongs to you. Not even the promise of magic; see, love is a rumour, like Santa Claus, it lives in a pretty house that nobody has access to. See, I must have had a bad past life, I must have practiced on my hand too much. My mouth is a terrible orchestra; the music it makes is foreign and uneven; I'm a thrift store of broken piano keys, I'm a visitor looking at myself from a window really far away. See, I can't turn seventeen and have nothing to say, when someone asks if I know the choreography of heat. October 28. Laura's lips look like two oceans put together on purpose. Like something you're supposed to get lost in, and not know the beginning of, and there's a whole world in writing that out loud for the first time, I hope nobody reads this, it was her idea. I sat down on her couch, looking like a good example of desperation. I wanted to know if my body was capable of speaking to another body in a language we already knew. I wanted to know, if I could finally inherit my magic, if this doom was a prank-caller, or if it meant I was gonna be alone for the rest of my life. My mouth was mine and I know, because I gave it to her; we kissed, and my blood became a congregation of songs. I wrote myself on the inside of a girl's mouth, and I didn't even care. Every nerve in my body sprouted legs, my spine founded a country of fireworks; see, this, is the only thing better than the Thriller album, ever! Every fizzle of me that was now has a name. My heart isn't some Hail Mary of a prayer, or the secret apology I keep; one day, I'ma write love poems about woman who loved me so deep I grew color in my bones. I know, that when they ask me about my first kiss, I'm gonna say, I leaned in with all of my skin and only got half of it back. I'm gonna say I work real good. I'm gonna say that some things are only felt the second time around.
So relate-able. I felt the same after my first kiss, but decided all that was missing was practice, so we practiced for six years. It got better, but when I think about it now, the first kiss is the only one I remember. She's lucky to have had that second kiss.
This is absolutely amazing. As a straight person, I find it fascinating hearing the experience of just nothing being there on that first kiss. I loved this!
Denise, you are absolutely amazing as a performance poet. It is clear that you are so positive about life. You are both a poet and an educator. Can I introduce to you the granddaughter of my great-great-great-great uncle? Her name is Angelina Weld Grimke. She was a lesbian poet in the Harlem Renaissance. I identify with her very much because I came out as a gay man in November 2011. I am now totally at peace with myself and comfortable in my own skin. I know the truth about myself and that truth has set me free to be myself. I have been writing poetry and hope to include a couple of poems here. I am not in your league. OUR DREAM When we arose from the ground on angel-wings, And like the mighty eagle, soared high Among the wispy clouds, We whistled into the gale, Laughed at the growling thunder, And out of the driving storm Knew we'd see beyond the rainbow’s edge Into the panorama of crystal, blue sky, And we moved through the breathless Heat of the sun. LOVE, DISTILLED Unshakable, Still quietly certain, In uncomplicated Web, laced with Effortless love, Distilled To breathe freely, For breaking wide open Lifted shadow, showing secret, Tranquil clarity - now In dawn's light-borne, Purest affirming.
She's just so damn perfect, I love the way her lip curls up when she get's sassy😂 cute as hell💕💕
His lips must have been born in winter.
But I did it anyway, and I'm proud of that.
He had pothole dimples and a collection of white teeth so perfect
you could tell God got to him first.
In a dark room, I assembled myself the way I imagined
a girl should: arms up in position,
and pregnant with waiting.
He kissed me and I waited for the flood,
I waited for God
to gift me my own desire,
for the angsty snow to melt between us,
for the muscles in my neck to howl in an octave I've never known,
for the next chapter of my womanhood to appear,
and none of that happened.
See, when you get stood up by your own first kiss,
you feel like nothing belongs to you.
Not even the promise of magic; see, love
is a rumour, like Santa Claus, it lives
in a pretty house that nobody has access to.
See, I must have had a bad past life,
I must have practiced on my hand too much.
My mouth is a terrible orchestra;
the music it makes is foreign and uneven;
I'm a thrift store of broken piano keys,
I'm a visitor looking at myself from a window really far away.
See, I can't turn seventeen and have nothing to say,
when someone asks if I know the choreography of heat.
October 28.
Laura's lips look like two oceans put together on purpose.
Like something you're supposed to get lost in,
and not know the beginning of,
and there's a whole world in writing that out loud for the first time,
I hope nobody reads this, it was her idea.
I sat down on her couch, looking like a good example of desperation.
I wanted to know if my body
was capable of speaking to another body in a language we already knew.
I wanted to know,
if I could finally inherit my magic,
if this doom was a prank-caller,
or if it meant I was gonna be alone for the rest of my life.
My mouth was mine and I know, because I gave it to her;
we kissed,
and my blood became a congregation of songs.
I wrote myself on the inside of a girl's mouth,
and I didn't even care.
Every nerve in my body sprouted legs,
my spine founded a country of fireworks;
see, this, is the only thing better than the Thriller album, ever!
Every fizzle of me that was now has a name.
My heart isn't some Hail Mary of a prayer,
or the secret apology I keep; one day,
I'ma write love poems about woman who loved me so deep I grew color in my bones. I know,
that when they ask me about my first kiss, I'm gonna say,
I leaned in with all of my skin and only got half of it back.
I'm gonna say I work real good.
I'm gonna say that some things
are only felt
the second time around.
bookwormgirl000 thanks dude!!
this woman can do no wrong by me
So relate-able. I felt the same after my first kiss, but decided all that was missing was practice, so we practiced for six years. It got better, but when I think about it now, the first kiss is the only one I remember.
She's lucky to have had that second kiss.
This is absolutely amazing. As a straight person, I find it fascinating hearing the experience of just nothing being there on that first kiss. I loved this!
Can't get enough of her😭😭😭😍😍
The first time I kissed her. I realised how a kiss is supposed to feel. It was 4months ago. I've kissed a lot in the past.
This got me in the heart
Talking about girl crush! oh Denice Frohman, you are fkkk perfect!!!
I'm in love
Hailee Yearwood Same. like gotta marry her. i sang someone TO MAKE POEMS OF ME LIKE THAT!!
Hailee Yearwood same, hon. Same.
I’m here in 2020 still loving Denice’s words
Amazing! I want to know who the guy in the background is that keeps saying "word" lol
The 3 people who thumb downed the video, have no heart!!
Omg shes AWESOME!!!
1:19 Ean Peach...(Mae Martin anybody)
"The Ugly Duckling Syndrome" What? Ms. Frohman, you have probably never had it
3:26 best line
Wow!!! I am a groupie for your poetry.
Damn, I felt that
💯❤️💯👌🙆😘she is perfection!
so fucking relatable 😭😭
Can't believed am here 2020 am a developing poet
I liked it
So good
Denise, you are absolutely amazing as a performance poet. It is clear that you are so positive about life. You are both a poet and an educator. Can I introduce to you the granddaughter of my great-great-great-great uncle? Her name is Angelina Weld Grimke. She was a lesbian poet in the Harlem Renaissance. I identify with her very much because I came out as a gay man in November 2011. I am now totally at peace with myself and comfortable in my own skin. I know the truth about myself and that truth has set me free to be myself. I have been writing poetry and hope to include a couple of poems here. I am not in your league.
OUR DREAM
When we arose from the ground on angel-wings,
And like the mighty eagle, soared high
Among the wispy clouds,
We whistled into the gale,
Laughed at the growling thunder,
And out of the driving storm
Knew we'd see beyond the rainbow’s edge
Into the panorama of crystal, blue sky,
And we moved through the breathless
Heat of the sun.
LOVE, DISTILLED
Unshakable,
Still quietly certain,
In uncomplicated
Web, laced with
Effortless love,
Distilled
To breathe freely,
For breaking wide open
Lifted shadow, showing secret,
Tranquil clarity - now
In dawn's light-borne,
Purest affirming.
M in luv
My first kiss was actually really nice
Bruh, same
lol i got a nose bleed during my first kiss and got blood all over her face... oooops
That sounds like a poem to me. 😀