Lindsay loves to read, write and perform poetry, discovering its magic while an undergraduate at Cornell and after graduation while living in NYC. She has performed in open mic slams at Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Below are a few of her (favorite, yet unpublished) poems:

“Hail to the Chief”

Hail to the chief 

of my lust and life

always there to monitor, watch look 

and stare

he hails from humble means 

stickball in the streets

there were no parks or green

or space in between

sometimes food on the table

sometimes not

Mom taking time to do what she can

when she is able 

in between fits and spells 

of wine and pills

threatening to toss clothes out of the window if they’re not put away

Hail from the sky 

falling all arround me

surrounding me with crisp pitter pats 

like a snare

a wakeup

a refresh

all of it for me

perfectly timed

when I am home safe

always home safe

Home

   Is 

     Where

          You 

             Feel

                Safe.

From where do you hail?

Oh, you mean where am I from…New York!!

my once stomping ground

where no corner was left unexplored

except for perhaps feeling like I “made it”

New York

you have been through hell

over the last year

trying to find yourself

again

building character from the ground up 

because that’s what we do

Oh, how I miss you.

“Whisper Winds”

Whisper winds ride bareback

on branches

having the time of their life

leaves prepare to go bold

blissful orange

then detach from their base and take flight

horses and joggers pound Central Park's

pavement

rolling stones the beats'

understatement

they glide on the bridle path

whatever doesn't last

wasn't meant to but

I do want perfect pictures to stay the same

or come again.

____________

“Transportation”

Transportation 

from one feeling

to the next

offering

pretty

powerful

rides

feeling fixes

pleasure prizes

wrapped inside

dense

denial

clouds.

______________

“What Is A Memory”

when it's lost on you 

when you repeat the same pattern 

again 

and 

again

a 

memory 

can be put aside

or called up

a memory 

can be brought center stage

appear in form 

another 

and 

another

it happened once before 

and before it's too late 

it may happen 

again

put aside a memory 

relegate it into that one compartment

with heart

I meant 

open up a memory

for solace comfort company

a gift that keeps 
understand a memory

a new way in a day

a new way in a week

a new way in a month

a new way in a moment

protect me from a memory

by releasing 

feelings

it generates sapping

present moment dry

of truth

causing a good cry

memories can feel stronger than my

own 

self

still

they can be laughed away

release

place on a shelf

share

revisit

release again

take off the shelf

did he care

what is it

release

I've heard it said 

look back 

don't stare

release

what is 

just a memory.

____________

“New Moon”

Catching crossed

signals

a peaceful slowing down 

where is there

space

that isn't theatre

amplifying

competing 

practicalities

superficialities

or

accepting 

through people acting

like angels

brilliant colors my

joy from all angles

life looking beautiful now

whether I'm looking within

or 

out

or

up

consciously pointing out what 

moves, motivates

thrills me

distancing myself from that

beast

that sickness

whatever words could attempt

always unsuccessfully 

to describe the suffering it causes

golden moments

precious

emerge only after distance

is acquired

not by running or walking

even

but by

releasing those cement blocks 

stepping around potholes you fell into 

many many times before

accepting once again once more

those fine, finite principles that say

simply

the past is over and like

a new moon cycle you

true

come along again.

“Beautiful, Like Me”

You are beautiful

like me

the robust

rich

rose

alternating between

bouquets of friends.
and standing alone
on a single stem.

__________

“The Din”

the New York sky is snowing

an invitation 

I feel like letting go

of that one 

rattling my core

of listening to my story 

with one ear only 

your other hot pressed against my pillow

I feel like letting go

of the grand 

of the great 

of the immeasurable 

illusion of control

grateful for the cold wind 

pressed against my face

reminding me no hiding place 

is worth the pain isolation brings

grateful to get back to my life 

while you live yours

I live mine

certain

I shut the doors 

to the din that disrupts 

peace

my peace 

the peace 

I worked hard to discover 

and allow

and believe 

I deserve

I am asking for the courage to let go 

when

the

snow

stops.

________

“For David” 

whispers from burnt sienna leaves

Central Park’s trees

standing tall and proud as mother nature

drops November rain

a child skips over puddles and announces his

presence with a jubilant

thud

while a golden lab tip toes and protects

only the scent and sound of leaves soothe my mind

squirrels squirming through holes in the fence help me leave it all behind

graceful November fall

vigorous November fall

away from Zabar’s, noisy bars, Fairway, life not feeling fair today

away from ambition which blinds and corrupts each innocent action and expression

warding off a visit from depression in the

autumn whisper wind

fresh breath

surreptitious sigh

dropping the masks, plunk

this is not the place for everyone

November clouds do not seek grandeur or gold

just to dim the sky

the little boy speaks of ice cream sundaes and the golden lab’s ears perk up

bright yellow leaf lightly falls in my lap

breeze catching curls on my neck

when the soul for something longs

but sits alone

it is nature which offers

a comfort song.