July Staff Poetry Collection

For the month of July, we wanted to honor the amazing poets we have on our Velvet Fields staff. Thank you all for sharing your amazing work with us and the world.


Poetry by Simona Filiposka:


“My grandma”


Her voice feels as gentle

as the waves of the ocean

and as steady

as a 100-year-old tree in autumn

with lots of leaves fallen down

in a sea of colors,

from yellow to red and brown.

You can see the scars of the tree

in its broken branches,

and if you touch its crust,

you can feel

the storms and winds it has passed.

But under the tree

in its shadows,

millions of kids and people

have found their comfort

and so have I.


Her hands are just like the tree crust,

with wrinkles

that speak about how giving she is

and how much love she holds

for the people and the world.


Her voice when she tells me

that choosing kindness

is always the answer

and it always will be

is like a mantra

that my heart has remembered

and will hold on to

forever.

When she speaks to me,

I can see the pain behind her eyes

and the wisdom of her soul.

She's the light

that will keep on leading me home.


And her heart...

I could use all the words

in all the languages

and all the poetry collections,

and I still wouldn't find

a word to describe

how big her heart is.

I could say it's as big as the universe

and the universe is endlessly huge

just like her love,

but I'm not sure if that would fit.

I'm only sure

her love will stay

even after the universe is gone.


“Coup de foudre”*


The lightning struck

straight into my heart

and now my body is on fire-

full of electricity.

The spiraling atoms of my being

have lost their state of neutrality,

now it’s all about the electrons.

But even they

are leaving their orbits

and I have become

the definition of chaos.

I’m burning faster now,

but not alone.

And if you too loved

how our hearts exploded

into tiny pieces

and came together

like a puzzle,

then I think I can say

at least for a moment

we were happy.

Maybe that moment

was all that mattered.

But if we wanted forever,

we should’ve known better

than to make the treehouse

our home.

We should’ve chosen

a nice house

on a quiet street

like everyone else does.

Because life is about security,

or is it?


*Coup de foudre-thunderbolt (French, literal translation), idiomatic expression of love at first sight




Poetry by Dani Ayala:


"proletariat"


i knew capitalism like the back of my hand

the gaze, the trance, the eyes, the wannabes, the wannadon’ts, everything.

from its birth to rise to fall to fall to fall again.

the catastrophe because how else do you

describe gentrification without using a million metaphors

i knew capitalism like the back of my hand as if it’s birth was not white supremacy and of nazareth instead.

i knew capitalism like the back of my hand because one day i’m going to be jeff bezos and shame anyone who is just trying to afford a roof.

i knew capitalism.

since birth, since that bill they gave our parents for bringing light to the world,

since the second i fed off the industry, the pretty, the ugly, the all of it,

the second i forgot i’m okay and not a peasant

just here, figuring it out with my hand in the gutter and the other one a fist.