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About me - M. Frederick Voorhees

"I believe one writes because one has to create a world in which one can live. I could not live in any of the worlds offered to me... I had to create a world of my own, like a climate, a country, an atmosphere in which I could breathe, reign, and recreate

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Confused by love
37 of 311

THE GIRL YOU'LL NEVER BE I want love to ride on my shoulders above a Third Street crosswalk and kiss my hair as the leaves rain all around us so all the Pi Beta Phis and Tri Delts can see you don't have to have to be popular to be beautiful. I long for innocence, all wrapped up in those brown paper lunch bags my mom drew hea... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: I do not cry
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DEBRIS For two homophobic, weightlifting football players hugging was not manly & cool. But I guess we figured goodbye was a special occasion. We ignored almost everything we'd learned about being manly & cool, but we did not cry. We had become popular (and happy) by being men, by not showing emotion. Hugging was one thing, ... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Losing faith
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The airport air smells like fresh fruit as he greets me at the luggage claim, the first unstale moment we've shared in years. He captivated me, once, when I sat before him in 8th grade, a boy lost in sin, listening and trying to believe. His voice sounds ever human now, like Jesus was. How sad, I think, that he fears the ine... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Childhood memories
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CARROT FIELDS Hiking back from the farm with our carrots, we tried to pretend 2nd grade wasn't starting tomorrow. But summer was crying and inside so were we. What was there to say but small talk? So you mentioned you had a new Wade Boggs card, I commented on our carrots, how mine looked bigger than yours. You said let's ask... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Meaning of life
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WHAT IS MEANING? Eager to look over the moment and call it wrong, hungry for minutes to replace the ones they lived in, he & a roomful of people who never got him held & folded different scowls, their fudging faces, loudly judging yet empty. Honesty nodded fakely; Ambition felt homeless in brand-name clothes; Vision was aloo... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Remembering love
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GRAFFITI Long before I listened to advice, or cared about consequences, or felt pain, I spent my afternoons and evenings on Drake Mountain climbing toward today. Do you remember our first time, how quiet the world sounded on our private trail, how bright the stars looked, not yet rivaled by city lights? The hike was long and... More..

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