Monday, July 27, 2015


Yellow jump ropes
dirty the quickest

Because each time your
rope hits the ground.

The dirt wraps
the coiled center.

And soon,
It looks like you purchased
a long patterned rope.

Yellow, brown, yellow.

Because the handles don't hit the ground.

Riley Welch

Saturday, July 25, 2015

Over Out

How do you become original?

How can you be inspired?


not a thing.

I am exhausted

One more

One more.

Are any ideas ever good?

Can you be a creator?

Do you make your own world?

Would that make you in charge of that world?

Who plays God?

That is responsibility beyond

the usual.

Ins and outs

of daily life

And I could scribble more

more lines.

And be in charge of more

more worlds.

Forever and ever


I can't

or won't


Riley Welch

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Blocks of Chocolate

And so you're staring at the
edge of the Earth
but you think.


You're looking into the distance
miles and miles
I've always been impressed at the skill
of the world's

Greatest artists
to make me think
snow-capped acrylics

1,000 feet up
rolling hills.

Riley Welch

Monday, July 20, 2015


Sitting on well-lit porches
Blasting bass beats
Cold drinks
Splattered paint
And splattered people
Why go back to the real world
Why not make this the real world
Is that an option
Can you truly
Just decide how to live
And then do it
I haven't got any obligations yet.

Riley Welch

Saturday, July 18, 2015


Every choice
Ever made
Was absolutely the right choice
And any choice
That has yet to be made
Will probably
Year and years
Down the line
Absolutely be the right one again

Riley Welch

Monday, July 13, 2015

1 & 2

I think I'm finally figuring it out
That's not true

But here's one more block

There are long term people
And there are short term people

Those who have paths that stretch miles
And miles and consider
Those miles and miles
And think about the miles
And miles behind
And then about how history
Repeats itself
And lays out even more miles
Based on past truths
Or lies

And then people
Who think in the moment
The unchanging
Perfectly here

Maybe without worry

Who decides which is better

Riley Welch

Saturday, July 11, 2015


One two three

Sometimes I don't know
To start a poem

Four five six

But I can feel it
Just below the
Like a sheet of ice

Seven eight nine

That was poetry
Bursting out of that
Cold but shallow

Ten eleven twelve

So I take a deep
And count it off

Thirteen fourteen

And somehow it relieves
The pressure


And breaks the ice


And all the words come
Pouring out

Seventeen eighteen.

Riley Welch

Monday, July 6, 2015


Select, delete,
Select, delete,
Hello pattern
Hello pride
Hello hurt
Hello hollow
Hello how do you overcome that all incasing feeling.
Let's call it a cocoon
Nothing can be gotten
Rid of
Because your brain is the worst hard drive
And it is the least efficient
It never recalls data as it was entered
Don't you wish you had photographed the bad times
Instead of blocking them out
Then maybe justification could be easier
I don't understand how it feels like I'm losing something
When it's already
Simultaneously lost
And saved somewhere else
I'm glad days keep moving
Because otherwise
I would have probably paused time
And never ever moved forward
From anything
And that is no way to live.

Riley Welch

Saturday, July 4, 2015


Some days I think of the writing process
Like fermenting
The words of my poem will dance off my pen
Incredible release

Until one moment
I've used it all up
And it stops
And when I try to write

It's not bad
But it's week
Think of espresso
Compared to tea

But then, when I let all those ideas ferment.

Then they come bursting out

Like a tightly sealed jar 
Filled with carbonation

Shook to the brim until things are bursting. 

Sometimes hiatuses are good

Sometimes taking a break from forcing words on a page,
Lets me put better words on a page.

More refined,
well done.

Something I could spit out

Until I am empty

With words to ferment again. 

Riley Welch

Wednesday, July 1, 2015


Soaking shoes
In accidental puddles
Lovely feet with happy curled toes
Sprinting legs
With rain drop mud tracks
Painted up calfs
And pant legs
Stretched out goosebumps
Head to toe
Rumbling stomach laughter
Ending in sore stomachs belly aches
And glinting sparking's of bright green lightening bugs.

Riley Welch