My name is Travis Morgan.

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Figures of Speech

I know similes must compare,
and personifications speak without choice,
hyperboles weigh a ton,
and metonym’s rename voice.

Synecdoche is an oily scale
from fish meant to represent the sea,
underscored with another metaphor,
the poet’s top killer bee.

Artsy figures of speech,
meant to highlight, clarify, and link,
ironically only blur meaning,
like Rorschach blots ink.

I wrote this poem in response to a challenge to use 5 different figures of speech. Not only did I use five figures of speech, I also wrote the poem on figures of speech.


Oil swirls the ocean,
Tar squirts upon the sea,
Rorschach ink-blots,
or defense poetry?

Abyssal plain explorers
prefer a color changing bod,
a bilateral symmetry,
and the arms of a Cephalopod.

What’s great about this molluscan
with a weight meant to pull
is it’s mighty fountain pen
and its every tentacle.

Half-eaten leaf holes
reroute mornings rolling dew
from vein to blade tip

Form Misrepresents

Why does it matter
the color of my skin
so what if I’m half white
and half mexican?

Some say I look russian
and others think I speak french
but why do they care
to what do they clench?

Form misrepresents
it does not tell the story
I am not my race
yet it steals my glory.

I am experience
I am one with the whole
more than genetic inheritances
more than a soul.

Baby Grace

You came into this world
so innocent and complete
with a light in your eyes
and a step in your feet
We could all feel it
your heartbeat moved the land
as does every child’s
as does every sand.
You came and you moved us
barely waving a hand
you didn’t blink an eye
and couldn’t make a plan.
But you came to ground
you murmured over the ultrasound
that you would make it to this day
when darkness turns to light
with no promise to stay.
Now you lay in peace
and perfectly in place
to live in our hearts
forever, as sweet baby Grace.

I wrote this poem in response to a request to write a poem about a child how died shortly after birth. The baby was named Grace, and the poem was supposed to make the parents feel a little better.

Over Sensationalized

Sweet sorrow my ***,
Life is a bi7ch then you die
gentleness unseen
not even a “goodbye.”

Which daisies smile for me?
F the sunsets, cherry blossoms and wannabe butterflies
all of this and more
over sensationalized.

The moon and the sky
has no bearing on our pain
Men are the beasts
ridiculously vain.

Yes, this is my life,
as it is yours,
but I will hold your hand
and together, we’ll endure.

Substance Abuse

Golden Delicious
Freshly squeezed
Straight from the farm
tapped from orchard trees

Natural or Organic
Granny Smith or Fuji
McIntosh and Jonagolds
It doesn’t matter to me.

Remove the worms
and I’ll think about spice
but no cider today
I prefer a much simpler slice

Press em and pasteurize em
prepare my substance abuse
I can’t help it
I’m addicted to apple juice.

Shuri Rising