Search This Blog

Wednesday, December 30, 2009


I love your smooth loveliness, your full
and sensuous curves that glow
silver and white. You are the precious jewel
of the evening, you make everything in my life
softer and farther away. Shed your light on me,
and I will never cease to fill my eyes with your
distant form. Poised with perfect mystery and allure,
you lounge on a throne. Even when you disappear,
you’ll never let me stay alone.

I love the moon.

Saturday, December 26, 2009


I, like a small bird,
a freckle on the face
of the atmosphere.
You, like a sleek feral cat,
a curve of heat focused
on [your own] survival.
We, like polar opposites
and doppelgängers, were
never meant to meet. So
twist those telephone lines
around us dear,
we will never be closer
than where we are now.

From this, we can infer that I fail at a lot of other things besides communication.

Thursday, December 24, 2009


Like a cut and pasted
journal page, blank
and ready, I wait, so please
[insert emotion here]

Sorry I haven't posted in so long.
I'll get on that.

Monday, December 14, 2009


History! A crowd of wizened hands all
reaching out for me, clamoring to share
their own life stories. Each one has a call
so unique, I'm bound to find a voice there
that I enjoy, as well as one that I
will loathe (like ignorant brutality!)
Exploration of cultures beyond my
reach, words so vivid I can almost see
it all- that's what I love! Those hands still reach
for all of us, full of lessons to teach.

For history.
This isn't geeky at all, since I love science & English much more than history.

Sunday, December 6, 2009


words curl up in my lungs, I try to breathe them free but they refuse to come. the heavy smoke of not knowing what to say- I choke, I choke! vowels and consonants stick on the roof of my mouth, they cling to my tongue and won’t come out. all I can see is someone I love walking away, but I guess it’s okay. what on earth would I say?

Gaaaaah it's so awkward for me to talk to people when all I can think of is absolutely NOTHING HELPFUL. Sometimes, being an extrovert sounds nice.

Saturday, November 28, 2009


Concentrate, relax, remember to breathe.
If I do these things, sometimes I
can force myself to imagine the feelings of wings.
The flex and pull of muscles,
a gentle weight,
the color of light filtered through feathers;
they become part of me.
What a glorious thing it would be,
don’t you think?

I would love to have wings. I'd adore it.

Thursday, November 26, 2009


I looked at him, he looked at me-
but nothing happened (don’t be naïve)!
This isn’t a dream or a movie
where the girl gets the guy.
This is real life, so we
said goodnight and goodbye.

I have a whole bunch of poems started, but I can't think of endings for them. And most of them are better than this one...

Thursday, November 19, 2009


She’s got a heart of solid
silver-coated air.
Not gold, still nice, but
not much else there.

You know! That person that isn't really mean & might even be nice, but they just seem kinda empty?
Yeah, that one.

Thursday, November 12, 2009


Elegance can be achieved
simply by taking normality
and stretching it out.
Confident in clean lines,
it subtly leans towards the sky
and whisper-shouts,
“Hello, darling.
Lovely to see you again.”

It's very difficult to be elegant when you're short & squishy, but I'll manage it someday.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


Comfort lies waiting for me in neat columns and rows,
stacks and aisles all coded and ready to go.
Such tranquility the library offers,
gently bending my spine
into a curve of concentration, intent
upon someplace other than mine.

I admit it- I love books.
Always have, always will.

Monday, November 2, 2009


I sleep sometimes the way I imagine that animals must sleep-
aware only of darkness and passing body heat
(friend or enemy? danger or safety?)
Other times I dream in a vibrant arrangement
of colors- yellow, green, red, blue.
Last night, however, I dreamt of you.
My secret?
I didn’t want to.

I used to want to dream about him, but I never did. Now I don't want to dream about him, & I do.
Life is so contrary, sometimes.

Saturday, October 31, 2009


My ribs are stretching out, like
a flower blooming except
more painful than beautiful.
I think maybe they need to
be restrained, but I can’t hold
myself tightly enough. Could
you wrap your arms around me?
I’m sure it would work, just be
sure to never let me go.

Another semi-structured poem. 9 lines, 7 syllables per line.
I haven't written anything for Halloween! Oh well.
I don't know what to call this...
"Straining to be Restrained"?

Friday, October 30, 2009


“I know why the leaves fall,” she said,
barely audible above the porch swing’s squeak.
When she didn’t continue, I
asked, “Why?” and she smiled.
“They are in love.”
Still smiling, she sipped
from the aged mug that she gripped
with pinkish white hands, and
continued to say nothing again.
“With whom?” I finally demanded.
“How should I know?” she replied,
“I only know why.”

Imaginary conversation, stemming from me trying to think "outside of the box".
It's a pretty big box...

Wednesday, October 28, 2009


Sometimes, faith
is like clinging to someone's sleeve
and being led through the dark,
whispering, "I'm scared."
Other times it's like a spotlight
shining on a serious wound
that you didn't know you had.
"Where did I get that?" you'd ask,
"And can it be healed?"
Right now (for me, personally),
faith is my life jacket
tied to a boat.
It's the only thing keeping me up, but
I'm not the one driving, so
I have no idea where I'm going to go.
As long as I believe, though,
it's enough for me
to just be able to breathe
and let God be in control.

This stemmed from me having NO IDEA where I'm going with my life.

Monday, October 26, 2009


Hate becomes something physical,
clenched in tight fists
and between grinding teeth,
twitching barely beneath
the skin while heating
arteries and veins.
An object to throw or spit
like poison, almost too hot to hold
and definitely hot enough to hurt.

I had a bad day.
Not today; actually, last Saturday. But anyways.

Saturday, October 24, 2009


I pushed him down like gunpowder
inside of me, until the kiss
(that sparked a bit)
and then he was an explosion.
My heart went past skipping beats
and decided to almost stop entirely.
If that was what people call love,
it was burning me up,
and he was almost too hot to breathe.
Though fires can be warm and pretty
to sit in front of,
there’s a reason we put them out.
The roaring waves of heat swallowed me whole;
when the cool waters of distance
and rejection finally reached me,
I was almost turned to coals.
Thank goodness for small favors, like
indifference and long roads;
without them, I wouldn’t be
happy or cold.

I'm not sure I like this one, but I had the gunpowder bit lodged firmly in my brain & this was the only way to get it out.

Thursday, October 22, 2009


I walk into the room and
we (the room and I) sigh together.
What a lovely fit!
Shelves and crannies and nooks and corners shift
themselves into an order
that best resembles me. I sink into a chair
made just for backs like mine (all mine!)
and all of us together stretch,
creak, and settle one last time.
All of us are confortable, and
all the world is fine.

I forget everything except that the chair was so comfy and there was lots of natural light.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009


The shine of streetlights on the highway
turns the twisting road into a patch of sky,
with rows of small suns stretching into the night.
We are driving in a river of precious stones,
diamonds and rubies that coil and flow
in neat sparkling lines
just under the surface
of a blanket of darkness,
and I swim beneath
the spell of midnight.

I've always seen traffic & the freeway at night as a sort of river of shiny things, and it really is quite gorgeous to me.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009


Sun, please come and smile
on me. My pale and
ailing skin longs to
be caressed by your
bright fingertips and
kissed by your softly
burning lips. My arms
are aching for your
warm regard, I've been
waiting but it's so
hard. Lover, please shine!

11 lines, 5 syllables per line.
Sometimes the sunlight makes me forget what I'm thinking. Very relaxing.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009


Anger is a beastly thing,
all ammonia and aneurysms,
making damsels dismal and
destroying determination.
I have tried to teach
myself to ignore its teeth
and now every bite becomes
only a taste on my tongue,
for I snap back with alliteration,
replacing fury with confused consideration
and sometimes humor.
Curses become a crutch
on which a weaker mind will lean,
so I force myself to stand sometimes
and think of what my words mean.

Saying "fuck" feels good when I'm angry, but it feels a little bit like giving up. So I use alliteration, which forces me to think of what I'm saying & whether or not I'll regret saying it later.

Sunday, October 11, 2009


The slant of sun in
the late afternoon
makes the walls and floors
warmer. Life, from
the heated carpet, seems

It's so short... Like me!
But anyways, patches of sun are the best place to take a nap.

Friday, October 9, 2009


We listened to his favorite songs
until we both could sing along,
never doubting for a moment
that good things never last.
So it wasn’t much of a big surprise
when we each said our own goodbyes.
It seemed to only be a second,
because the fun times go so fast.

Thinking about that saying, "Time flies when you're having fun."
and it rhymes? Weird.

Thursday, October 8, 2009


Her fever bound her to a forest of bedposts
and covered windows,
because it is easier to sleep in the dark.
She couldn’t see anything, but she didn’t need to,
so I just let her talk.
It was hard to hear her so sickly,
like just her voice hurt something within me.
I was partly sad to say goodbye,
but also somewhat glad-
I wanted her to get well soon,
but there was nothing I could do.

I think my maternal instincts are over-developed in some areas, because I honestly wanted to reach through that phone and make her some chicken noodle soup (or something).

Wednesday, October 7, 2009


Arm’s length seems to be
the perfect distance to me,
but it’s all I can do
not to pull in closer to you.
So I tighten my fists,
and I straighten my wrists.
Nothing is certain, but
I don’t want to take the risk.

I guess my mental dry spell is over.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009


There is a place in my brain where
thoughts are rushing around all day,
trying not to trip over each other
and failing miserably. They
shriek and fight and hide in corners
rocking themselves, while some look on in horror
and continue to do nothing. There is another
place where all the other
thoughts are shaking their heads, and they
are quite a bit more friendly than the other ones.
I am gently lifted off the ground and dusted off,
and some nice plump thought
gives me a cup of tea
and wraps a blanket around me.
“There there,” it says,
“we all have our uncertainties.”

Doubt is a terribly destructive thing, and I try to stay as far away from it as possible.

Sunday, October 4, 2009


I can feel Autumn in the whisper of
wind in the trees, like a symphony made
of sighs and sweet nothings. Blue skies above
me contrast brightly as the green leaves fade
to varying shades of fire; this is how
I know that Fall is not only a cold
season, but full of warmth as well. So now
Summer will go, and it never gets old
for me. I will open my arms and heart
in welcome- no one could keep us apart.

A love poem to Fall ♥

Saturday, September 26, 2009


It’s like I should be somewhere more peaceful,
experiencing a rebirth or
having a heavy burden laid down
for the last time. It’s like
every note is a hand that’s holding me,
every measure giving me the strength to breath.
Someday I’ll be truly loved
by someone, and this song
will be playing in the background
and that’s how this makes me feel right now-
like nothing is missing and
I’m perfectly fine.
Great, wonderful, glorious,
content, peaceful, humble but
sure of what I am.
In the silence afterwards,
even my heartbeat sounded beautiful.

Moonlight Sonata is so calming to listen to. It's like listening to a quiet moment with someone you love ♥

Friday, September 25, 2009


The cheerful face of
new friends lifts my spirits and
makes the concrete feel like
a moon landing, which fits
quite nicely considering the
foreign landscape. “I don’t
know where I am,” I think to myself,
“but that can change.”

First day of college :D

Thursday, September 24, 2009


-away go away go away,
don’t try to say anything
because at this point
you’ll only make things worse.
Yes I’m screaming and
you’re still talking like
a civilized being
but I told you to leave
and you didn’t so
don’t make any mistake
about it you’re not
in the right, automatically.
I just want you to go-

I'm running out of ideas... I need to get out of the house.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009


I wish I could contain all
the things that will change in
a clear mason jar, like
found coins or fireflies.
Jars can only hold
so much, though,
and all I could think was:
Every time I get close,
someone has
to go.
It’s not so painful
as it was before, but
I still feel it every time
I close a door for the last time
(or sometimes, for a really long time).
Mourning will not help me, I know, so
I try my best to just enjoy the chance
of small happinesses
before I have to walk away.
The most I can make of some situations
is just to seize the day.

"Carpe Diem," because sometimes I have to make a conscious decision to be optimistic, and sometimes it's really hard, but in the end it's worth it.

I'm pretty sure that I made up the word "happinesses," which is weird because to me it's a pretty straight-forward and common sense kind of word- multiple happy things. Duh.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009


The touch of damp heat lingers
like a steamy washcloth over the city, but
I can taste the smell of red leaves
on my tongue and it comforts me.
There is a season for everything,
so I hear, and I cannot wait
for Autumn to fall
like a ripe apple into my life.

I think I'll write a sonnet about Fall. I've written two about Summer, so it's only fair. Maybe I'll challenge myself not to talk about the change of color, but it's one of my favorite parts...

Monday, September 21, 2009


I wanted to wait
by the side of the road
and imagine that the rain in the gutters
was a river to carry me home.
I knew better, in the end,
than to give in.
Still, I wished that I had,
and prayed to be forgiven.

Rain usually makes me either happy & carefree, or very thoughtful & pensive.
Or sleepy.

I don't entirely know what this is about. That tends to happen quite a bit.

Saturday, September 19, 2009


I’ve had eighteen years to practice letting
go; learning from the start that no
matter what happens, the show must go
on. We’ve had all our lives to
consider Life and what it means to
us. It’s not a long enough time,
I think, but what do I know?

Inspired by 9/17/2009.

7 words per line, 7 lines. Normally I go by syllables, but whatever.

Friday, September 18, 2009


I want my bare feet
on warm concrete,
next to thigh-deep snow;
not so much heat,
just the right amount
of cold.
It'd be nice
if there was always some ice,
but never on the roads
(maybe hanging from the windows).
The trees would be bare for
only a short amount of time:
enough to rest, and then
move on with life.
And without fail, constantly
within reach
of those I love,
and who love me.

It'd be so nice if I could take a nap in snow & still have warm feet... and after that nap, we would all have a big bonfire and eat s'mores and have fun :D
Hey, it's okay to be wistful once in a while, I think.

Thursday, September 17, 2009


I liked the feel of cold
Sharpie on my skin,
as if the bold black words
were sinking in.
I felt them on me
like a warm embrace,
or fingertips with
gentle grace.

This is a true story! (shock, surprise, et cetera)
I couldn't sleep so I got out my Bible & started copying down my favorite verses... on myself. It's a very happy memory.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


Tell me tomorrow
that yesterday will be
never again
with me.
At the moment, though,
it is enough for me to know
that I will heal someday.

Sometimes, all we need is someone telling us what we already know- that the hurt can't last forever, all things heal with time, this too shall pass, et cetera.
And other times, we just need to stop being a woman and move on ;)

Tuesday, September 15, 2009


Ant and mosquito bites
Dewy hill-sides
Planes and fireflies
Clear starry nights
Finalistic kiss-goodbyes

Summer, you are a series of words
that I could have done without.
Maybe it is better to have lost,
but it’s such a painful thing
to be taught.

gaah, It's like I'm suddenly being ambushed by all these words that are like, "Pick me, pick me!" and all I can do is this humorous sort of, "Whoa, nelly!" and be drowned.

Monday, September 14, 2009


My hands are tied
by thick black ropes
with yellow lines,
or else I’d wrap my arms around you.
As things stand
and this distance grows,
these reaching hands
are too far for safe and sound. Do
you think it’d be alright
if I called you late tonight?
I know it’s not the same,
but at least you’d hear me
say your name.

Do I already have something named "Far"? The full title would be "Far Too Far," so I gues it doesn't matter in the end.
I have this problem...? Where I fail at keeping in touch with people...? Unless I can touch them. And even then, I fail.
Working on that, though, so it's okay :D

Sunday, September 13, 2009


Maybe I’m a fine mulled wine;
you know I don’t drink,
but I could try.
And you would be something sugary-
a sweet little treat
for me to try.

I’m hungry for some comfort
so fill me with your lies.
I know you won’t be here tomorrow,
but maybe you could try.

Okay, so I already did the idea for "hungry for attention," but then I started actually getting hungry and that got me thinking about people (me) who eat for comfort. So there ya have it :D
I don't know what's with all the "try"s, I just got lazy and the repetition was easy. I almost titled this "Try," but I know that I'll use it for something better later.

Saturday, September 12, 2009


Something strange
interrupted our conversation.
A bird of prey
swooped down,
reached out,
and grabbed my friend right off the ground!
As they disappeared,
I thought I that I could hear
his voice, from a distance, say,
“Sorry, I got carried away!”

The thought came to me suddenly- Where did the phrase, "carried away" come from, and what on earth does it have to do with rambling?
While my questions remained unanswered, I did come up with this :D

Thursday, September 10, 2009


Feed me attention,
and I might do some tricks-
maybe a flip
or two.
Throw me a bone!
I just want to be noticed
by you.

"Hungry for Attention," equals full title (I think).
When I have kids, they're going to know how awesome they are.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009


What else could this heart be
for? There’s got to be something
more to it than the circulation of blood.
Teenage love, while I’m not fond of you,
rage is not enough to keep me away
at the moment. If I believed
that all I could hope for was to
only to be left waiting
lonely at the door, would
I have kept on going? Despite the tears left in my
eyes, I believe that I would. So give up
trying to bring me down- I’m not
buying anything you’ve got to sell.

I felt cheesy for having the ends rhyme, so I just tricked myself into thinking it was cooler to make the beginning words rhyme. Like an optical illusion, except not...

Tuesday, September 8, 2009


She picks the bruises off her apples,
and I massage the bruises on my calves.
She says that it makes the apple taste different,
and I subtly kiss the blueness on my arms.
She throws away the discolored pieces,
and I pull up my shirt to hide
the plum colored spot beneath my collarbone.
I help her eat the apple,
happy that I'm not a fruit.

I practiced sword fighting with my father yesterday, and now I'm covered in bruises. The worst looking one is this huge dark purple spot that covers half my chest from where my shield was pushed against me.

Monday, September 7, 2009


There's a knot in my neck
from where I cradled the phone
for so long,
and it reminds me that she's gone
and that I miss her.
Her laugh
covered the cracks
in my heart the way that
spackle fixes walls.
I've decided to call her more often.

Kristy called me a bit ago. We talked for almost an hour, and I didn't even talk about half the things I wanted to.

Friday, September 4, 2009


It was thoughts of him that kept me warm when no one else was home,
and the memory of his lovely laugh made me feel much less alone.
Was it selfish to want him all the time,
both in body as well as mind?
My own invitation turned to freeze me, in the end-
we are still only just friends.

"Opportunity Cost" is the full title, I believe.
I know, I know. Silly teenage angst is the fount of most poetry, unfortunately. Lucky for me, I only seriously thought like this for a fraction of a second before my intelligence actually kicked in.
I need another challenge. Any suggestions?

Saturday, August 29, 2009


abruptly fascinated with the sound of a voice, heart racing when hands collide and intertwine (magnificent, a thought says somewhere, absolutely wonderful). it almost hurts to make eye contact, so deep and sweet that warning signs are going up somewhere, shouting in bold red letters, “Warning! Attention! Danger of drowning, Surgeon General thinks cavities are bad!” and in a place not too far from here a toothbrush is sighing because everyone knows that eyes cannot cause cavities (the toothpaste is feeling macabre and comments, “while they’re still seeing, at least.”). But here, in this moment, there are no toothbrushes or surgeon generals or anything else at all, really (except for the stray thoughts that manage to get loose and are humming or screaming or neither)- there are only two bodies, suddenly magnetic (one of the stray thoughts argues against this for the sake of science, but is soon quieted) and the magnetism increases and even the stray thoughts disappear in the warm blur of sight and sound. Time stretches, stops, turns around, and throws its hands up in the air, saying to no one in particular, “well there goes the neighborhood,” and two bodies are almost too busy to smile.

This is another challenge that I gave myself. I like this one better, because it's more how my brain works (ie- random thoughts popping up during inappropriate times).
The challenge was to write about love/ romance/ kissing (whatever!) without using; I, you, he, she, we, love, or any variant of kiss.

Friday, August 28, 2009


-like letting go of something heavy; and when you get used to having something and then it's gone you feel naked, lighter, slightly unsure. when you feel one thing for a long time and suddenly decide to feel something else, becoming disoriented. pulling weeds, having a garage sale, spring cleaning; your mind is one step closer to godliness. someone in your life abruptly asks, "didn't you hate that person?" and you reply, "yes, but not anymore." after holding something for so long, your fingers hurt to unclench, but it's a good hurt because it's over. everything is over. you feel-

It goes in a loop, you see. You forgive one thing, and it feels so good you try to forgive one more thing. It doesn't work like that usually, but it should.
It's not really poetry? It's more prose. It was a 100 word challenge I gave myself.

Monday, August 24, 2009


could the cold wind have cut
through the happiness within us?
i thought not,
and even when the current caught
his camera lens cap
we just tried to laugh it off
because none of us wanted the moment to end.
so we threw rocks
into what we called the river
but more likely was a creek,
and I took pictures of the couples
and reflections of the street.
our feet were swinging off the edge
of a perfect little concrete ledge
that led off from the rusty bridge
(the one that we wanted to see).
alex threw rocks
and lance was thinking,
caitlin and i were sometimes singing-
mostly it was her, but that was okay with me.
when i wasn't helping caitlin sing,
i was mostly pondering about the tree
that looked as if magic
would happen around or under it,
and wondered what this would be like
if it had grown on this side
of the creek and not the other,
so we would be beneath its leaves.
eventually, we had to go.
while i was sad to leave,
i was glad to have come-
a memory can last me for pretty long.

Yay for being alumni.
The creek-thing kinda smelled, actually, but the bridge was SUPER fantastic & romantic-looking.

Thursday, August 20, 2009


It isn't anything like what I expected;
no cravings
for ice cream
or sad movies,
no teary eyed
or staying up all night.
Can it really be heartbreak
if he's not the one
that broke my heart?

I keep thinking that I'll get hit with a sudden urge to go cry in a corner or watch The Notebook or something like that, but I only feel really quiet inside.

Sunday, August 16, 2009


My feelings are not words, so
my small hands grasp for
a way to express this
jumbled and knotted thing
that lives inside of me.
My feelings, however, stay
out of reach, and my
fingers clasp empty air,
useless in their

Next up- liquid & gas. Maybe plasma :D
Yes, another poem about how I suck at explaining things.

Saturday, August 15, 2009


I started to slip
off the edge of a cliff
and thought,
"Would I rather fall
or jump?"
So I leapt
into the air and
to the rocks below.
Before I hit the ground,
I began to slow
down, until I was skimming
over the earth.
I was so excited
by my flying,
that the adrenaline shook me awake.
Just before I opened by eyes,
I remember thinking,
"But to where will I fly?"

Another dream poem. You know that you're a at least a bit cynical when you even suck the fun out of your dreams :D

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Sister/ Sieanna

I know that you must have gotten angry
with me, but I can't recall
when you ever were mean.
Whenever my friends meet you for
the first time, they're stunned by how
beautiful you are. I bask in our sisterhood, then.
When you still lived with us,
I would sometimes hear you crying in your room.
I hated that there was nothing I could do,
and would sit outside your door
crying with you.
Recently, I've discovered that I don't like
you boyfriend, but I'd hate to tell you because
you've already put up with it so much
from our other female relatives.
I'll never want to visit you again, though,
because I don't want to see him manipulating you.
I'm not a kid anymore, but there's still nothing I can do.

Yeah, after that one for Mickey, I kind of wrote one for everyone in my family. This is the only one that almost made me cry.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009


Today I made you dress yourself
like I've always wanted you to,
and it nearly broke my heart.
You look less like a child every day
(even when we get you confused
and make you forget if you're ten
or thirteen).
Tomorrow, you promised to go with me
on a picnic. It's my hope
that you'll look less like vampire.
I wonder, sometimes,
what your first girlfriend will be like,
and if she'll know more about you
than I do. Right now,
you are simply asleep,
so I can stop worrying.

I made him wear shorts, and when my mother saw him she was amazed that he had hair on his legs. "When did that happen?" she exclaimed. It's common belief that he'll never get past puberty, and we seem astonished to be proven wrong.

Sunday, July 19, 2009


several shades of sunset sang me sweet to sleep,
and I smiled to see the colors spread to the treetops and their leaves.
It was a lovely little lullaby, in the way that some things grow,
and I was slightly at a loss for words when I knew it had to go.
But the night sky wrapped me in its shining light, and the dark began to rock me;
the moon pulled up my blankets, and the stars kissed goodnight so softly.
I closed my eyes and thought of all the dreams I've dreamt
and down the road to sleep I went.

Things like this always start with just a few words of alliteration that puddle and pool and eventually pour out of my mind. They never seem fully formed, though, and this poem-ette is no different in that respect. I never know how to complete it!

Sunday, July 12, 2009


Maybe there's an art to this, that I
haven't mastered yet. A way to hold
your heart so that the world
sinks deeper into it; and love,
along with other silly things,
can enter in. Is the trick in the wrist?
The twitch of my lips must not be perfect,
nor the sway of my hips or the way my fingertips
are buried in my fists; the way I laugh
instead of cry, or get excited about fighting.
Do you suppose that my legs are too rarely seen?
But who knows is any of this is true-
I'm just pulling at strings.
When it comes to deep, I
can rarely think things through.

Another one of those spur-of-the-moment, get-this-out-of-my-system things that I have a tendency to write.

Saturday, July 11, 2009


she spat poisonous paragraphs, and I hurried to wipe them away. what could I say to the cold calculation that laid out my life for inspection? so i pressed my lips tight against the tide of replies that i might have spat back in return; since i couldn't think of how to speak, i thought it best not to use any words.

I'm sure I'm drawing off of some memory here, but I can't remember so I guess I can't be bitter about it...

Friday, July 10, 2009


When we were birds we perched on trees; we cleaned
our wings and then headed east. We caught the
rising sun, tied it to our beaks, and brought
it with us home. Then we caught the setting
one, so that our daytime felt more complete.

5 lines, 10 beats per.
Been a while since I had to open up my brain and look inside.

Monday, July 6, 2009


I wrote you a letter full of words, about the things that are happening to me and answers to your questions. What I didn't say was that yesterday I dreamed of you and woke up hoping that it wasn't not true. I also didn't say that when I next see you in two weeks, I'll probably forget all about how much I want to hate your guts. I'll most likely forget that you're lazy and have a strangely shaped head, and perhaps I'll want to kiss you instead.

I know, I know! But it's such an addicting style of writing for me. I just need to learn how to divide it into lines and breaks and stanzas. I hate breaking things apart, though...

Sunday, July 5, 2009


I didn't want to keep hoping, because the last time I reached for the stars they reached back and burned me. Now I'd much rather sit and nurse crispy fingertips until they are cool enough to use, back to normal temperature and feeling brand new. We can still have fun with our feet on the ground, and if you squint your eyes just right the fireflies become stars all around us (only these ones won't hurt if you hold them in your hands). But when I sat back in the grass and looked past their blinking lights, and the sky was black and covered with clouds, it was all I could do not to sigh and hope for someone I knew. I stopped myself before the wish was fully formed, and used my useless hands to keep my cold body warm.

This is me trying my hand at that weird style of prosetry that I love to read.

I think I may be better at reading it than writing it...

Wednesday, July 1, 2009


I've been caryying a burden, quite staggering in size
in a pack across my back and in bags under my eyes.
Now this weight was cumbersome, but I felt that I had to endure;
when I asked myself the reason why, I found I wasn't sure.
This load was not for someone I love, or a secret I promised to keep,
it was not for a memory that made me smile, or a song to help me sleep;
it served no purpose at all, in fact, in any form, shape, or way.
So I took it down, set it on the ground, and quickly walked away!
Now I am traveling light these days, and in case it wasn't plain to see-
without that load, my road is easier. Finally, I'm free!

So, I decided to not be emo and just move on with life. Hormones suck :D

Tuesday, June 30, 2009


I wanted to ask you what all this was about,
but it was all I could do to keep my foot out of my mouth.
So I ended up struggling with the knots in my chest
and just let the silence take care of the rest.
I can't say I'm proud that I let the chance go,
but since I didn't take the plunge, at least I'm not cold.

I always end up with my foot in my mouth. Even if I don't say anything- actions speak louder than words and all that. It would be funnier if it wasn't me.

Monday, June 29, 2009


a thousand words live and die
short lives
graves of crumpled paper and torn pages
epitaphs written on erasers
scribbled over with pen
never to be read again.

Is it just me, or do you-
I'm afraid to say this, but-
I know you never said that-
Please don't misunderstand-
We were never really alone, and-
Don't get me wrong-
I just passed up the chance, thinking-
What could I have done to-
It's hard for me to describe.

Rest in Silence.

Your presence saps the common sense from my mind
and what courage there is in my heart.
I'd like to end this, but
I can barely get a start.

It's not like I don't want to
I just can't

when I think of you.

I am a superb idiot.

And I think I already have a post called "Cowardly," and it might be too close but they're not exactly the same so I'll survive for now.

Sunday, June 28, 2009


There are no sounds or words for it,
no songs or paintings that come close to it,
no sculptures or photographs.
There's nothing at all, in fact,
that could could ever convey
what it is I want to say.
So I'll stick to what's familiar
and ignore it until we're
thoroughly afraid
of even mentioning its name.
Then the silence, I hope,
will begin to corrode
the feelings I carry inside
of me.
And with time I may discover
that with nothing left to uncover
I will only have to hide
what is empty.

I thoroughly despise not knowing how to express an emotion, but sometimes there just isn't anything I can do about it.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009


Heart running tripping
sprawled panting
on the uneven cement
in my throat.
Hands shaking reaching
for nothing in particular, then
dropping it.
Breath hitching
eyes twitching
all systems in unanimous agreement-
we are nervous.

I hate that feeling. I can give speeches, squish bugs, trap birds/ bats, fight in heavy weapons; but put me in a room full of people I don't know and I get the trembles.


the sweet blossoming of warmth, starting
somewhere between my lungs before becoming
one with the cells that spread outward, until
all of my blood is singing
with a golden glow, the stiffness of being alone
washed away in the flow, it's filling my chest
so that when I breathe out I can imagine
the coil of it unfolding in the air, tendrils of it
caught in the wind and carried away so that
someone else can breathe it in
and say, "beautiful, yes,
thank you, I'm better than okay."

I've discovered that it's completely true- happiness is contagious.
I love it when people make me happy, and I love making people happy, and I love seeing happy people. It's just one of those gorgeous things.

Monday, June 22, 2009


If my words could mend a broken soul,
then I'd make sure that you were whole.
If my words could break down stubborn doors,
then I'd make mine strong and use them more.
But since they can't, I'll waste time a while,
and see if I can just make you smile.

Cute little thing.

Friday, June 19, 2009


I am nearly nude
on the sunny side of the roof,
letting summer's song
soak into me.
The cold, crystalline clink
of ice in a glass of water
Bluejays screaming their anger
(at something or other)
Dogs barking, doors slamming
The swoosh of tires on hot asphalt
The general hum of things
like air conditioning,
that I wouldn't miss
until they suddenly turn


I made myself a tall, cold glass of lemonade yesterday, and spent a nice time tanning.
I love lemonade.

Monday, June 15, 2009


Songbirds are chirpring merrily
among the sun touched greenery
and I am still in bed.
I admit, it is my intention
to stay inside, where there's no danger of rejection
or chance for disappointment.
Now I find myself safe,
but also alone.
If I can't win both ways,
do I still want to call this home?

I'm so bored of sleeping.

Friday, June 12, 2009

March 13

Ohio turns to watch as Spring comes,
as it runs
and walks and pants heavily,
steam clouds of hot breath and rain,
frigid nights that thaw in the day.
Songbirds and mourning doves,
melting snow and the promise of buds
on branches,
a sky bluer than any country ranch's.
Always, however, a constant threat
that it may still snow.
Hold your breath,
Spring isn't here yet-
there are a few more days to go!

This was also for Spring, and doubled as a birthday present for my younger sister that I never ended up giving her. I could just set this to magically appear next year on her birthday, but I'm bored and feeling revengeful.

Thursday, June 11, 2009


It is a wonderfully suspenseful thing
to sit and wait for Spring
where I am.
It's one of those days
when you turn up your face
to the sun, like a flower,
and long to take off your coat.
The air is cold, although
the sky is free of clouds
and very, very blue.
I'm not sure if these days
have a name;
the kind when, through the window panes,
it seems to be
Spring already.
Like an illusion or a dream,
only not.

This is for Spring, whom I miss quite dearly.
The truth is that I cannot stand the intense hot and muggy climate of Summer. I love roses and swimming pools and ice cream but I CANNOT enjoy having my own sweat re-condense on me. Ew.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009


I'm prepared to bare my soul,
but it seems as if you already know.
I feel like words are mocking me,
and the natural, solid way of things;
this way of existing.
Words are all I have,
but they
are strangling me.

Does this make sense?
Ignore that- it doesn't matter.
In the end, it's just the
that I'm after.

Almost word for word. You don't mind if I plagiarize, do you?
It seems as if you sometimes think in poetry, and I can't help but to reshape it a little.

Monday, June 8, 2009


The sweet caress of summer sunlight sneaks
its way into the hearts of men. We lay
with simple pleasure in the light, and play
in greener fields, until our new techniques
and secret jokes are mastered. Light barely peaks
above the trees- we wave goodbye, and day
becomes the night. Again we chase away
our cares, till eyelids droop and Sandman speaks
of sweeter dreams. And while we softly sleep,
our skin (in honor of the sun) does shade
itself in newer colors. When we wake,
we laugh and say that red and brown can keep
their place (except your red, of course, which fades).
So welcome, summer; what you give, we'll take.

(a/b/b/a/a/b/b/a, c/d/e/c/d/e)
The first sonnet was wishing for summer to come, and this is the sonnet for after summer comes. I suppose that's what it is, at least.

Thursday, June 4, 2009


I can better arrange words on paper,
they being more volatile suspended in the air.
Either way, it is difficult for me to leave my soul bare.
So I forsake the breath and vapor
of spoken things,
preferring to carve out what I think.

It's true. I fail at speaking.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009


I have begun to dream again, a refreshing sight
after so many colorless nights.
About the oddest things again,
like love and school and blinding lights.
Tests of strength and alien wars,
places I have never been before-
I have missed the strangest sights.

For a while there, I couldn't remember whether or not I had dreamed. It's so boring to wake up and not remember anything. I missed dreaming~♥

Tuesday, March 31, 2009


My Dearest Summer, Hurry please! We long
for warmth and sunlight only you can bring.
We want for flowers, birds (they, singing, belong
in trees). Follow quickly after Spring,
if you cannot find your way. We lay
waiting on the beaches, sprawled among
the pools and sun prone places, wiling away
our time. Patient for your touch, the young
and old alike sit sighing at their doors,
ready to rush into your light. Embrace
us once more, dear summer! Hardwood floors
covet your conductive heat. People’s faces
yearn for color. So Summer, I’m on my knees!
If you can (or can’t), make haste, please!

I didn't think that I could write in anything even resembling structure, but I tried my hand at sonnets a bit ago and discovered that I love them.
This one was inspired by Alia ♥

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


I was a poet, in my dream. Kisses fell like snow falls like I cannot recall upon wakening. Words embraced me in my mind and I never wanted to leave them behind, but they flew from my mouth to fly south with all the other birds of paradise. Even my goodbyes left me, and all I could do was what I know- hold and love and kiss like snow.

I have a lot of weird dreams, in case it wasn't obvious.

Monday, March 16, 2009


I wrote the letters fully intending to send them to their recipients and then I would be free. I was very pleased when I finished my writing, and tucked them in a pocket of my notebook. Since then, I haven’t even looked at the folded things. Maybe I fear that if I touch them they will sprout wings, and then they will be free.

Stupid letters.

Sunday, March 15, 2009


Someone twists a knife in my gut, and I cannot see. I fight against the attack, but I’m only fighting me. Every time I think of him- the way his hair blew in the wind, the color of his eyes, the way his voice rumbled when he said goodbye- I am the cause of my own demise.

Stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself...

Saturday, February 14, 2009


I can somewhat recall his smile
while we sat by the fire,
and the warmth of his body next to mine.
The edges of his face
are beginning to become erased
by space and time.
It does not matter in the end,
since he wasn't as real as we are.
Dreams can only get us so far.

I had a dream that I fell in love with Death, and the more I loved him the more handsome he became to me (but he was only handsome to me- to everyone else he looked ugly).
He had a very nice house, and had a minivan.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009


First it creeps on autumn's tepid breath-
a snap on your tongue,
a soft spoekn sigh,
"There is only a short time left."

it hides in the painted canvas of leaves,
whistling in your lungs
when you say goodbye-
Patiently waiting for the season's first freeze.

There it stays for a while,
perhaps lost,
until Fall has run
its last colorfully drawn out mile.

Then it sprouts from the grass;
a field of frost,
diamonds in the sun,
crystal ferns pressed against the glass.

And all at once it descends,
falling in flakes
that cling to hair,
breaking past the season that only bends.

Everything is covered in cotton, white
like the frozen lakes
and breath in the air.
The sun's rays are caught, and magnified.

So winter has come in all its shining glory-
blue skies,
white earth;
but there is an end to every story.

Icicles begin to melt their final tears
for goodbyes
and rebirth,
and begins to dream of the coming year.


Monday, February 9, 2009


My beartbeat is the sound of a thousand pounding drums inside my chest. A very merry nervous tune played against my xylophone ribcage breast. My breath dances in my throat and ears. I am musical for you, but you are not close enough to hear.

Some people get noticeably nervous when they're around someone they like. I haven't noticed anything that might give me away, but my insides sure do go crazy.

Sunday, February 8, 2009


"I'm in love!" she sighed.
"That's wonderful!" I lied.
I did not want to see her
swooning over his boogers
or laughing at the wrong time
(every other line)
for his jokes.
Maybe it's because I think
that knights in shining armor things
are only normal people underneath.
Hidden behind that metallic suit
might be an artist, a jock, or blue
green, brown eyes for you
to look into.
"He's terrible!" she cried.
"No," I whispered, very quiet,
"he is just real life."

I probably should've saved this for Valentine's Day.
Don't worry, I'll have written something for it by then.


Females can be so annoying sometimes... I mean, really. Guys don't sneeze rainbows, and neither do you, so just be human together.

Saturday, February 7, 2009


It’s not like I never
Watching the stars with you
wanted you to come closer-
seemed magical, but
I was only afraid of
we aren’t in a fairytale, and
you having to leave.
I’m not a princess.

I love disjointed things ♥

And it reminds me of how the Grudge moved... In a poetic, non-scary kind of sense.

So I basically wanted to write something that flowed but didn't, so I took two seperate stanza things and just shuffled them together. TA-DA!

I hope it isn't too obvious that I'm a sham...

Tuesday, February 3, 2009


I woke up one morning to find
a note that I don't remember writing.
"Just bring me back",
it said.
So I will save
it for the day
when someone takes
my heart away.
Then I will say
to them, "Behave,
Just bring me back."

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and write things that make no sense. Except this time it kind of did make sense, so I wrote about it.


They come from paper planes, dropping post-it bombs on the notebook romance of my life. I am soggy and red rimmed, but I will survive. So we all decorate our lives, colorful construction paper cutouts dashed haphazardly on the page as confetti and glitter glue illuminate our way. And when the pages stick together, what can you do but laugh? We are only arts and crafts.

Arts and Crafts. It started with the first sentence, and I really couldn't think of anything that fit it from there so I just made something up so that it wouldn't bother me too badly.

Thursday, January 15, 2009


I had to find
the track of time
before I could find you,
but your smiling face
stands in the way
of what I want to do.
So get off my path
I'm moving past
my past (and that means you).
Your handsome face
will have to wait-
I've got better things to do.

You know the saying, "I lost track of time"?
I started thinking about that, and that was the beginning of this poem.


Sound slides into silence, shushed by slush and swallowed by snow. I am walking deliberately slow, towing a trail of breath behind me. The crashing crunch of boots through ice, footrprints of grey on a canvas of white- it is winter where I am, cold outside and warm within.

Thursday, January 8, 2009


I am the once was wet blanket, tumble dry only to the party time fiend, only on certain occasions for short duration, no time past bed time and minus annoying relations. I am the roller coaster hater turned hesitant liker; in no time at all I’ll be a rough and tumble biker (sarcasm brought to you by you friendly neighborhood soccer streaker I mean, striker). I am changing like the grass is growing like the wind is blowing and repainting the clouds in the skies, tricking your eyes into seeing different things, the different aspects of me. So put aside your one-lined descriptions, and get ready for something that can't be written- I am a mess of colors and words, smells and songs you probably haven't heard. I am nothing that you can be- I am strictly and uniquely made me.

I think this is about maturing and being uniquely yourself, uncontainable/ "fearfully and wonderfully made".

Wednesday, January 7, 2009


I picked up my dinner, spun around,
and began to walk away.
Time slowed down.
I stared at my plate,
thinking, "Crap, my spaghtetti.
Stupid shoelaces."
I am not aware
of my body twisting midair,
but I slowly realize I'm looking up.
My feet are stuck,
my arms are spread,
and my head
has knocked against
(and is currently propped against)
a chair.
I do not try to wonder how it got there-
it hurts to think.
I begin to notice a few more things.
My dinner is on the ground.
There's quite a bit of sound
that I can't quite understand.
I look at my hand,
still holding the plate.
I look back up, and a concerned face
asks, "Are you okay?"
After the words finally sink in,
I bare my teeth and grin,
get up, brush myself off, and start to walk again.
After cleaning up the mess, thanking the one person who helped,
and getting a new plate
(with food on it), I will laugh and say,
"Shoelaces will be
the end of me."

It's long, but it's a true story.

So two of my friends are on social, and so our friends were all split up and at dinner on one person was sitting with Will so I was like, "Hey, I'll even it out or else it won't be fair." But then everyone moves to follow me leaving Jessica stranded, so I go to move back but my shoelace is untied and somebody's chair is in the way. All I could think really was, "Crap, my spaghetti" and "Stupid shoelaces".
Later I found it hilarious that I was so intent on saving my food that I didn't make any move to catch myself at all, hence me adding the part where I'm just staring at the hand that is still uselessly holding the plate.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009


There are lots of little birds on the telephone pole.
I don’t know why they won’t go.
I would, you know,
if I could fly.
So I try
to scare them off, light a fire beneath their wings,
but they barely do a thing.
They flutter a few feet,
and I am tempted to repeat
I know there is no help
for these feathered fools, though, and I move on.

I'm feeling restless.

Silly birds. It's cold here! Fly away!

Monday, January 5, 2009


5 stanzas of 5 lines, 1 beat per






I could make it five lines with five beats per. That would probably make more sense.

Oh well.

Sunday, January 4, 2009


Sugar is sweet, and so are you.
And just like sugar, when I get too
much, things start to decay.
I am left wondering why it hurts to much to go away,
when you are obviously toying with me.
Once, I noticed that your teeth
were pretty far from white.
You must have too much of someone else's sugar in your life.

Of course I wouldn't judge someone from the color of their teeth. I think I meant it to be symbolic, or a metaphor of sorts.

Somthing along those lines.

Blog Archive