November Poetry Compilation
The Sunstroke Monthly Poetry Compilation is a collection of poetry submitted by Sunstroke readers and staff members. Take a seat, light a candle, grab a cup of tea, and dive into the intricate words of our community.
Submit to future compilations at hello@sunstrokemagazine.com!
By Heart White
Equality! by Nick Kimble
What is equality?
They talk about equality but don’t know the half.
They say this and that, but they don’t understand what it really means to be BLACK.
Hold up wait a minute let me take you back. To the back of the back. To the back of the bus but you already knew that.
They look at you funny; they call you names. They say this and that. But I always stay the same!
They discriminate and hate. But can’t relate.
Walk a mile in my shoes is something that they can’t do. I know they can’t relate so no need to worry about the hate. I was born into a world already knowing my fate.
Note to self-stay true to self!
It doesn’t matter who you are, what’ve you’ve done, or what the pigment of your skin is!
We are all equal!
“Austin” by Anonymous
There's water trickling across the surface of a pebble
that rests in front of me,
no grander than a cigarette box,
just much more at home.
I've told myself that this little knoll,
with the dancing water and the rigid grass
and the glistening stone,
lay undiscovered until I brushed my boots through the spears of green today.
How long has this basalt carton sat
untouched,
slowly losing pieces of itself to the
relentless trickling of water?
How marvelous and grand it will be
When the great mother, and all
of her Earth,
cease the weathering of this troubled slate.
Would a passing frog perhaps,
fling it away as it prances towards other matters?
Would a spear of bamboo spring itself from the mud
beneath the pebble and push it aside?
But I can feel the emptiness of this place.
Echoes of silence, like shouts in a cave,
except that there are no walls of rock,
and the blue sky unfurls itself above.
Is the reflection of my eye
staring back at me
in the grease of the pebble,
the first time it has ever seen?
I glance down at my bloodied hands,
my body aching from
the journey to this
troubled place.
I sigh and reach forward,
the pebble just out of reach.
I find myself weighed down by
the gravel and silt,
already in my pockets.
I stare back at myself
as waves of water wash
over the desperate stone
like the putter of exhaust.
I reach into my pockets,
flinging cobble into
the now amber sky
as it rains back down onto the land.
I can no longer see myself in the
wet of the stone anymore.
My eyes are lost under
the dirt of the rain.
I slowly depart this silly little place,
as the clang of water grows further away.
It sounds different now.
Busier.
As the sky folds inward,
and the water departs itself
fully from my vision,
a singular frog leaps
from the grass,
over my boot,
into the resounding echo.