Poems in Feet & Poems on Feet: Readings & Performances by Berklee Students

Sophia Anello - Old Friend
Swimmer
Aidan Meachem

Emblazoned in my consciousness,
the image of your face
contorted into an expression of I don’t know what in that Final moment,

when I held you
and fought hard to bite back tears that threatened to put my own pain on parade,
I tried to focus on yours.

Selfish.

I still remember walking through the park with you each day,
a contrived attempt to find some sort of routine that would take your mind off of
It

And how I felt
pouring what remained
of you
into the sea
from a sailboat.

What you wanted.

The sun is setting now.
Do you see it? No.
You, of course, are already on your way across the wide Atlantic.

In Passing
Aidan Meachem

Early morning, there was distress, Edgar’s limbs
Latching close to Julia, salty drops and
Red eyes… Twenty years felt so swift. He’s strapped in…
Mission control’s voice

Says Edgar will lose all contact with Earth. The
Voices fade… Silence sets in. Try to sleep, Ed.
For some long years, somber Edgar is stray, a
Mangy, lone wolf cub.


Uncharted Voyage
Aidan Meachem

The gulls are circling in a funny way,
And Skip can see that something is amiss.
The waves have led his tiny ship astray,
And they churn, reckless with their eerie hiss.

A sudden crash sweeps seasick Skip off from
Rotting, yellowed planks. It’s sad, he thinks, for
This to be the end. “What have I become?
I never got to reach my dreams ashore.”

His ship is wrecked; his body sinks serene.
He rushed through life and straight into the void,
From birth to death and dreadful in-between.
“I want to try again!” he screams, destroyed.

“One chance!” he begs to stars all glistening.
He calls and calls but no one’s listening.

Aidan Meachem is a 7th semester student at Berklee College of Music, majoring in Professional Music with concentrations in Musical Theatre Writing, Conducting, and Songwriting. In his free time, Aidan enjoys walks by the Charles, listening to indie rock, and drinking hot chocolate. Sometimes all three at once.
Woman
AL Riordan

I’m told I look pretty in pink; that it
offsets my ocean eyes, shaping my blue
to crystals that splash stronger than the hue
I was born with. I’m told pink stands out, that
it strokes the lines from my spine to my feet
painting streaks of magenta over and through
my skin. I’m told I should continue to
wear pink, to be a sight hard to forget.

But all I see are rich tones of brown, running
past my hands as I scale trees and storm seas.
I see navy pinched with gold that’s spinning
heroes and villains across the night skies.
I see a whole world of colors aglow,
and although I love pink, I’m best dressed rainbow.

Night Light
AL Riordan

I made the moon for you. To walk around
when thoughts wander from your tender grip to
circle simple stars. I gave the moon a hand,

to stretch space between the fingertips you
keep clenched to your chest; untangling your
hearts static pulse. I laced the moon a shoe,

to tread over rouge landscapes you build for
yourself to suffer alone, slippery with
expectation. I sang the moon a shore,

to wash away your worries with a breath
of night-kissed ocean air, slinging to and fro
above your furrowed brow.

Framing the earth,
the moon is yours, so you can see and know
My Love; from the skies to the oceans below.


I have time to think now
AL Riordan

Choking down words that could have saved me

long ago.
Why now?
Why      do they            rise      to the surface,
clog an already blurred screen
and trap the one that loves me?
Would you recognize the world
through these eyes?
That have seen more,
than the average Joe,
That are forced to rewatch,
horrors sown into my stomach
with fingers that disregarded consent
and                    planted
seeds                  of
fear                                     and
distrust                             and
isolated               loneliness      and
triggers.
Trauma sewn in skin and bone.
AL Riordan is an Australian Electronic Songwriter and Music Producer, who has taken to writing Poetry when she feels like the words are enough on their own.
Decaf
Haley Griffin

Espresso’s swirling with dry cologne; the smell,
Clashing in my mind. You used o hate coffee.
A roasted blend of then and now: when I fell
For the stranger across the table. Spills

Of conversation from neighboring chairs dilute
The silence shared between us, lost in time.
For years, I thought the sight of you would brew
A love so rich, my heart would speak in rhyme.

Naïvely, I hoped warmth would fill me up,
Awakening something pure. We’ve aged apart;
I don’t know who you are. I hold my cup
Close to my chest, concealing my bleeding heart.

My voice is thin. Tears trickle down my face,
And I breathe goodbye, since decaf’s all I taste.

Carcass
Haley Griffin

You tell me I’m important to you.
That I’ve always been important.

But a miner caked in coal won’t search
Paths stripped of precious stone.
Nor does a bee return
To the same flower after sapping all its pollen.
The hands on the clock don’t wind back to touch
The minutes that have passed.
And a lover will never reach
For a stem, once she’s picked off every petal.
So look at yourself, in the reflection of my eyes,
Again.
And tell me
I’m important.

After you stole everything I am—
To never come back.

Haley Griffin is a recent Berklee graduate with a Bachelors in Professional Music (concentrations in Songwriting and English). Griffin transferred from Loyola University of Chicago where she majored in English, having trouble deciding between her two passions. But she still explored her love of writing at Berklee. She worked on her novel in fiction writing workshops and represented Berklee in the Greater Boston Intercollegiate Undergraduate Poetry Festival Chapbook. Now, she works as a content writer for an international booking agency, combining her love of writing and music, and is exploring a Masters in Music Journalism.
Lily Gelman is a Canadian singer-songwriter and pianist attending Berklee College of Music. She wrote and released an EP entitled Hold My Hand during her senior year of high school and is currently working towards releasing her second record.

Born and raised in Chicago, Illinois, Brandon Harris is a 21-year-old singer-songwriter full of rhythm and soul, whose voice and charm is eye-catching. He found his love for music in the church at the age of 10, and outside of performing he has a love for poetry!

Joey Dalton is a vocalist and songwriter at Berklee College of Music. Originally from Arlington, MA, he has been composing poetry since his senior year in high school. He is entering into his fourth semester studying Songwriting and hopes to continue pursuing his passions in creative writing and poetry.

Manny Moura is a singer-songwriter from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. She has recently graduated from Berklee College of Music with a degree in Songwriting. Poetry is one of her biggest passions and the root to all her music.

Mina Tran is a colorful, chic, and queer music-maker, born, raised, and thriving in Los Angeles, California. They are pursuing an artistic career after graduating with a degree in Film Scoring from Berklee College of Music. In their work, they are inspired by the weaving of music, sounds, and words.