Trick

it was my luck
that she would
be beautiful
(a trick of the light)



There are supposed to be parenthesis, but the kit doesn't come with any. I told my parents that for my birthday, I just want a whole bunch more of these magnetic word kit things.

With

when you step through
a wet blue sky
never look for me
only know
I always walk with you






I am in love with these magnets.

Almost

between morning and a moon
I almost believed
but sweet summer dreams
are cold and hard
in the winter snow




One of my Christmas presents was this magnetic poetry word calendar thing. I love it! This is the first of many...

Christmas

If I had the money,
I’d buy you great big things-
like ponies and purses, and
silvery white watches,
and other shiny things.
Sad to say, it isn’t so,
my wallet’s rather bare;
there’s not much left after living,
but please know that I still care!

So as your gift this Christmas,
I used my own two hands
to make you something special
(I hope you understand).
My skills are somewhat limited,
so it may not be highest grade;
though things will break and ponies age,
a friendship never fades.









Secret- originally I wrote "ponies die", but I thought that was a little harsh so I changed it.
Not so secret- Life is expensive.
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

Coal

I wrapped the flaps of my coat
around the roundness of his velvet bulk,
shushing into his oil slick shadow coal
-colored fur. He calmed down
in my arms, and I thought about
eclipses and clouds and cold
nights and how much easier
it is to see a black cat when
there is snow on the ground.







Sammy (short for Samhain) is one of our cats, and possibly the most terrified cat in history. I'm his favorite person, and he still acts like I might kick him when I go to pick him up.
It was too cloudy to see the eclipse. Rage.

Bridge

These tendons stretch to no avail-
my muscles were not made this long,
to push against the bonds
of distance and fail,
falter, try again
and fail. The aching in my very bones
to grow, like a dried sponge
put in water- to expand and fill
every empty nook and cranny until
there is no part of the world
that I cannot be; saying,
“There there, I’m here. Please,
have some tea and cookies and my love.”
But
I was born human, not a bridge-
these are the things
we must build and cross,
and I am still at a loss.






Maybe flowed better all in one piece, but oh well.

Just found this as a draft, to be honest. Kinda forgot it was there. This is back from October! Better late than never.

Unguarded

I imagine that there are beauties
that surprise us sometimes-
shining out of natural smiles,
the curves of light
on a face with downturned eyes-
unguarded moments
of loveliness and truth.







Woke up and found this written in my notebook.
I write in my sleep sometimes?

Whispers

there is no
body there, only
a shell filled with
warm air. through
the cracks come
whispers like,
"are you alright?"
and the question
crawls up and
down my spine.





Believe it or not, this is a sign that I may be on my way back to not being in a rut anymore. This is one of those that just popped into my head.

Chefs

One night when the streets were all quiet,
the chefs decided to riot;
they shouted and cried,
and they wouldn't subside,
because the city had gone on a diet.




So now I know that limericks and sonnets are both things that I can write whether I'm actually inspired or not. Quality isn't an issue with limericks, in my opinion.

Peg

There once was a pirate named Meg,
til a cannonball blew off her leg.
And though now she was lame,
she found joy in her name,
which had since been changed to Peg.




This is silly, and it makes me laugh, and I am so very proud of it.
Cheers for limericks!

Alternate

in our secret lives we sit, opposites
of ourselves, sighing and saying things
like, "No no no,
you've got it all wrong-
it's my turn this time, let me try!"
and so we let go.
there is a boy with light blue
hair and a lip ring- he smokes
and i can smell it when everything
is quiet and we're thinking,
"life is strange, so let's follow suit."





I'm not going to lie... I still can't write.
But my sketchbook is getting some use, so yay.
That's actually how this came to mind-
I keep drawing this kid. He needs a name.

Backspace

Backspace, hold, type.
Backspace, hold, stare.
The page glows white like
a winter landscape,
cold and bare-
it offers no ideas,
and no sympathy. I close
the program and my eyes,
lean back, and sigh. My mind
stays empty this time.







I'm not happy with what I've been writing, and that frustration is just making things harder.

Teeth

sharp teeth of doubt and second-guessing
press like a gentle reminder against
the tender skin of my neck-
"beware," they say, "of vanity and pride"
and i may or may not be in danger of falling
(but not from so high a place that
it will hurt any more than the last time).
there is a gnawing in my belly
and an aching in my thighs;
they speak of determination,
the stubborn tunnel-vision
that will get me to the end.
i know that i will get there, but
i just don't know when.







I'm pretty sure that I am at least partly aware of what this is even about. Yeah, it's one of those.

Truth

It was in the moment between
dreaming and sleep,
and I still felt
his body heat
spreading
across my side.
In dreams his face
is more real, but reality
is far more kind-
this world, at least
is not so bold a lie.







RAGE.
It wasn't even one dream, either. It was one of those deals where I woke up, thought, "Well this sucks," went back to sleep, and had four more dreams with this co-star.
My subconcious hates me, I think.

Comfort

"Comfort, comfort for my
people," He said and I
sank into it like the best kind
of hug plus my favorite hot drink
plus a steamy scented bath plus a
soft bed at the end of a hard day.
"Thank You, thank You,
thank You," if I said it too much
it still wouldn't be enough because
my soul is filled with the wonder of
His love.





It's what goes through my head at the end of every day.

Also, "Comfort" has already been used but this one is a little bit better but I can't think of a different word for the other one so whatever.

Indebted

It's the gratitude that tears me up at night,
the burning thankfulness
that fills my soul
and makes me cry out,
"how could i
ever repay this kindness?"








A short little thing.
There are so many wonderful people in my life.

Ventriloquist

"Speak through me," he prayed,
and I thought of the verse
where it says that we
won't have to worry
about what to say,
because the words would be
put into our mouths.
Then I thought
of Moses striking the rock,
and a stream of water
pouring out.








I don't know how my mind made the connection, but it makes sense in a way that I'm finding hard to explain.

$3.80

"Three dollars and eighty
cents," the automated voice tells me.
I have heard the number so many
times already, and
honestly, the novelty
is wearing thin.
Living from paycheck
to paycheck is no fun when
I've got big plans
and an empty wallet.






Haha.
But really.
I want to go to San Diego for Thanksgiving...

Bags

You can tell that he
has been thinking
hard about life, leaving
everything else behind.
The bags beneath his eyes
are packed and ready to go,
prepared to let the whole
world know that he's got
something heavy on his mind.







I struggled a bit with the line breaks, but I'm just going to step back now.
There was this poem earlier- "Trust"? And this is me going back to explore that "bags under the eyes" concept.

Foundation

I am watching a wave approaching,
high and mighty, hiding
the earth from the sun.
Rising up from the sea
like divine will, finally come
to test me, to see if I am strong.
I am wondering, how can I stand?
So I cling to the rock of my foundation,
ready to see if it is
not truly built on sand.







And now I've got that song stuck in my head. "All other ground is sinking sand..."

But yes.
This is the kind of time where people get to see what they're made of- I'm eager to see how I pull through this.

Cognizant

She walked past the doorway, came back for a double-take,
stood watching me for a moment from her place.
I saw her from the corner of my
eye, but didn't move until she said, "Are you
thinking deeply about life?"
I slowly turned my head, slightly confused
and taken by surprise. "Not really," I replied,
"I was only wondering what Winter will be like
here." Her shoulders sagged minutely,
and it felt like I had crushed any
high opinion she had of me. "Oh," she
sighed, "That's not quite what I thought. It's just...
You were staring outside, with this
expression on your face... Nevermind.
Goodbye!" She smiled and escaped. I looked down
at my plate and tried to think of
deep things, but only succeeded in
giving myself a headache.






I get quite a few comments like, "Are you alright?" or "What's wrong?", because apparently I get this really intense look on my face. But really, I'm pretty sure that's just my natural face.
I guess it's just strange to not be able to tell exactly what I'm thinking/ feeling? Which is normally the case.

Vagabond

everything is fine
until the quiet moments, when the
thoughts come out from their hiding places
and they are saying, "this is
not your bed, not any longer.
this is not your home anymore,"
and i heard a saying
that "absence makes the heart grow fonder"
but i ignore
all of that. there's a part of me
that wants to feel guilty
because it's funny- i don't mind
where i am so much, as long as i'm
having a good time.







New self-discovery-
Being a vagabond doesn't sound so bad, at the moment.
One of my friends said something like, "I get a little afraid every time I get into the car and start driving, because I get this feeling like I'll just keep on going." And I kinda thought to myself, "If that ever ends up happening, I want to be in the car."

Unsteady

Her hands were shaking, the needle wavering
back and forth
like the smallest dowsing rod that I had
ever seen. I took it gently from her fingertips,
assured her that I could handle this,
and watched (slightly frustrated) as she
finally started to get ready.
Everyone else is rushing to finish
things, the cake needs frosting and
Did he remember to pick up his pants?
Yes, yes, I checked this morning;
I also finished the slideshow, fixed
the uneven cake, and saved your life.
Once, it felt as if the only
steady hand around here had to be me.
Nowadays, I just lean back and
know that it doesn't matter in the end;
as long as she's happy, we did our best.







I get this temptation to think that I did so much work and that if I weren't there then things would be so much worse. It doesn't matter if that's true or not, because then I realize how self-centered and stupid that is.
Weddings are stressful for everyone involved.
This might have a tinge of the "growing up" theme...?

Figuring

to a friend who maybe doesn't know herself, i can
only say that none of us really do. and it sounds
kinda cliche, and i bet it's been said before
but it's true! the trick for me so far
has been to just take things as they come, and
burn all those other bridges as i'm crossing them.
i'm sure you'll find something that works for you,
and i'll still admire you if you don't. and maybe
you'll figure something out that doesn't include
combustion. that would be a good one.






I mean, burning bridges doesn't work for everyone. It certainly doesn't work 100% for me, but it's a work in progress.

Stalling

nothing better, nothing worse-
so i'm stalling, rifling through my too-small purse
wondering what i should leave
at home, what i should bring. a gun?
to shoot one [or both] of us with? don't have one,
and don't think i'd bring it if i did,
but the thought was entertaining while it lasted.
i hesitate between chapstick
and lip tint, but decide it will look as if
i tried too hard. now it's just getting silly,
trying to choose between
Heavenly perfume or grapefruit bodysplash: i
toss everything on the bed, and leave it all.
the only things i always need
to keep close to me
are my wits and my heart-
arguably, i'm missing a bit of each.





This one is older than the last one! I've got new poems, really, but I went through one of my notebooks and found all these ones that I thought I posted but didn't.

Heavy

why so heavy? moving as if it's a fight
as if it's just enought to avert my eyes;
you closed yours, leaned back, sighed. (i thought maybe
you were trying not to cry.) why am i alright? (that's
what i thought you wondered, about me, about why
i walked and talked and thought so slowly. i won't
admit that i was fighting- fighting the urge to run or
punch or just ignore everything and go
to sleep.) i felt nothing, felt nothing, feel
nothing except
heavy.






This is an OLD one. It goes along with those other ones, "Feeble" and "Cut".

Wandered

ninteteen years of history, of stability,
of being rooted as a tree to a single state, a single city.
years of slightly changed sameness, testing
of boundaries and stretching
out against elastic chains. ohio, ohio!
my blood sings with your soil and a piece of
the massing "us" that fill your streets,
one unit of the "we"
that belong to this state.

but now, but now!
it feels as if the sky has been called down
sometimes, the weight of nineteen
years crashing and crushing and breaking,
breaking against me and against those boundaries
until we are bursting from them, shattering
and unleashed and free. free
from comfort, from physical assurance, from easy
words or a similar timezone, even.
free, free! the beast of me howls joy
fierce, freedom! while a part of me weeps
for the ground that is the same but
different, so different.






I finally put words into this feeling I had, when I got picked up from the airport & was being driven to my new home.
This one kinda came in bits and pieces- I would write a few lines one day, then switch them around, then write a few more a couple of days after that. And so on, until now. I'm not quite sure it's done, but... Oh well.

Inviting

I think it's the breezes I miss most; the
feeling of cool air evaporating
sweat and water from my skin.
The grass and trees come in second;
their whispers when the wind twines
its fingers through them,
the lush blanket of green
that invites me in.
The cactus here invite me as well,
spreading open arms out to me and the sky.
The thought is appreciated, but
I have to decline.





Pobrecito cactus! No hugs for you.
The wind here is like that gust that comes out of the oven when you open it & get too close too fast, the rush of dry hot air that dries out your eyes.

Also, I can interact with my blog now. :D

Grief

I watched her wipe the tears away, when
her hands weren't busy twisting the broken
keychain. "I try," she said, "I try so
hard to carry on, to be the strong one.
I've prayed so long for this- this
pain- to go away, for me to be happy. But it's
so hard, so hard when it all comes crashing
down."
She continued to explain, I
continued to listen, feeling like
I should cry with her or bake cookies
or call up these people who could not
or would not support her and tell them off;
she was laboring under something so large
that I could not understand.
She cried, I clenched
my hands into useless fists. When
most of the moment was gone, she left
to find a phone charger so that
she could comfort her grieving aunt.
I watched her leave, thinking
of islands and men and God and the
ingredients for chocolate chip cookies.





I also thought, Why God, why? I know what people would say why, but why?
It's so painful to not know how to help someone, because I always want to make them cookies and it never does much at all.

Submerged

the shush of a calm ocean,
waves whispering the places they have been.
ropes creak, boards squeak,
the constant sway of everything-
all of it, subliminally,
at the center of one's being.
this is the life of a pirate or sailor- floating
yet submerged in the mind of the sea,
as mother and lover she will always be.




Add pirates & such onto the list of things I should write about, because Nutmeg has asked for it and she's spoiling me with story snippets.

PS, in case you didn't know- the internet here has a block that allows me to get to my dashboard & make posts, but nothing beyond that. So I can't view comments or reply to them or look at anyone else's blog, either. FYI.

Knight

my knight wears midnight armor,
and rides a coal black steed,
his eyes are all that’s shining
when he sweeps me off my feet.
my mother shakes her head and says,
‘this is not what good girls do,’
but we will smile, just riding on,
because no love is true.





RHYMES, HOW DO THEY WORK?
usually, they don't.

Grouch

Hello Sunrise, old acquaintance. I've been
quite alright without your shining, cheerful
greeting every morning. It's true! Your grin
isn't required! Did you expect tearful
confessions, whispers of my dependence
on you to start my day? Or maybe you
thought I missed you, my life just can't make sense
without you. Wrong! Admittedly, it's true
that you are beautiful, but that's it! No
more than that, you too-bright ball of flame. Please,
remove yourself from my open window,
or close the curtains at least. I can seize
this day just as well around lunchtime. I
will be fine without you. Sunrise- goodbye.





I lied. Roller coasters eventually.
The sun has this habit of shining right through my window into my face, and usually I cover my windows but last night I forgot and I woke up with an eyeful of enthusiastic sunbeams.

Sensational

rushing wind and
the soundtrack for the season,
on the stretching tightrope of
a road we ride so well. hot
humid summer’s tongue pressed against
our skin, filling up my lungs and chest
whenever I breathed in. a welcomed bite
of spices in our mouths, tastes worn in
by experience yet foreign in their origin.
the rings of focus through a camera lens,
experimenting with the newness and the suspense
of seeing the results- nail polish, shapes and colors.
can cities have body odor? car fumes
and restaurants with aromatic foods,
the press of people and their civilization.
every moment is a sensation.






Yay adventures. :D
Next, maybe something about roller coasters?

Tensed

Swinging her crossed legs, she
said, "Do you really think you're ready
for this much responsibility?"
Disbelief coloring her face- I looked away,
hands clenched into fists curled on my thighs.
"Because honestly, I
don't think you are. I'll support you
all the way, but..." She trailed off,
and I still didn't look into her eyes.
So many things that I could say.
"I understand how you might think that way,
but I'm still going," I replied. Eyes locked
for the last few words, maybe
she could hear what I was really
thinking but she
didn't press the issue any further.







Deep breath in, hold. Deep breath out, hold.
Uncurl fingers, lay hands flat.
Buy that plane ticket as soon as you clear up this problem with the bank.

Thunderstorms

The watch which hangs upon the wall, and ticks
to show that time has passed, is cold when I
caress it. Do I need a reason to fix
this moment in my mind? I see the sky
through the open window- clouds so dark
they turn the day to night, crowding in
the heavens, bordered by bowing trees. A spark
illuminates the world, and then my skin
trembles when the thunder follows. The storm
begins to rage in earnest, sending sheets
of rain into the earth. And yet, I’m warm
within these walls. Were I on the streets,
I’d surely feel it in my bones, that cold.
Beyond this angry storm- a sun of gold.






Haven't written a sonnet in a while, but then it stormed and my brain just exploded with the possibilities.
It's not perfect, but I'd have to say I'm pleased.
PS- I made cookies. Yum.

Gift

The gentle night, with careful tread,
which trails along a cloud of stars,
hangs herself above our heads.
The violins, the drums, guitars
that play a tune within my mind
are mirrored in the shining sky.
I pay the darkness back in kind,
beauty for beauty as eye for eye-
What God and Nature choose to share,
is always wond'rous, ever fair.







For the past few days, I've had this rhythm stuck in my head, and I felt compelled to make it into reality.
Sometimes I crave cookies, and sometimes I crave rhyming & metered poetry.

Condensed

I have this nagging suspicion that my summer can be
condensed into three things, narrowed down into simplicities
to avoid the knots and aching thought of more
work. One, the fan in my bedroom window, which keeps
air flowing because we don’t have air conditioning and the days
are boiling but freezes my feet at night because the universe
has a sense of humor, and the cold creeps in with the dark. Two,
my collection of movie tickets and receipts from various places to eat.
I sometimes venture outside, to laugh and ride the highways
like a river and go with the flow, often being washed ashore
at the movie theatres or a restaurant. Every ticket and receipt
is a memory of sunshine and deep thoughts and fun times.
Three, the plane ticket I have yet to buy, from where I am
to Arizona (which is where I’m going to be for a while),
which in itself is a symbol of so many things I
would rather not think about, while I still can.







This is supposed to flow like a spoken word, but if I just leave it without line breaks then it takes up the whole page and looks funny. So.

Wreck

It’s not like I knew
what was happening. When
had I ever been tempted
to put someone up on a
pedestal? But there you
are, staring down at me with
those perfect eyes and that
perfect mind when we know
that you are not. So I
spackle the cracks of your
lovely marble personality,
and pretend that I can’t see
that I am only partly correct.
You are human, and
I am a wreck.







People do this thing sometimes, where they are just blind to the faults of another person, or they recognize the faults and don't think of them as faults at all.
The end result is always painful.

Volcano

magical feeling of heat
spreading, bubbling up from beneath
the diaphragm pushing all that waste
up and out of the way, up the throat
and then explodes, like a volcano
except it's a laugh,
a laugh! the best kind, the kind
that hurts because you tried to fight
it and you lost, so you bend in half
and maybe try to hide it or choke it down
but you just keep on
keep on laughing. feels like
you should be crying maybe, but
so what?
and when it starts to fade, you can
breathe again, deep breaths and
maybe you feel a little emptier than
before. it's probably because
there's not much heavy there
anymore.







At first I feel a little angry because there I am, feeling sad, and then something funny comes along and makes me laugh and I'm like, "What the hell, funny thing!? I'm tryna be sad here." And then I try to go back to being sad, but it's already gone so I just have to shrug my shoulders and move on.

Shitty

"I can't be like her," she managed to choke
past the sobs stuck in her throat.
"I'm never going to be
that skinny, with perfect skin,
and I'm never going to fit in
size five jeans. I don't understand
why they'd do this to me! I don't
understand..." the rest of her words
faded into the pillow, my hand
rubbing small circles on her shoulder,
longing to fold her into my arms and
then proceed to blow things up.







The first thing I could think of to say was, "Shitty people don't need reasons to do shitty things. They're just mean all over the place."
I'm obviously not very good at comforting people...
(pardon my French, but I really can't think of any synonyms for "shitty" at the moment.)

Mathematically

If I were to love you now,
I think I'd love you upside down
and parallel.
I never was that good at math,
but I'm positive that I must subtract
all of the days
that you were away.
I'd take all your tangents,
cos and sines,
and curve your lines
straight into mine.








How adorable is this? Math plus dorky love poem equals WIN. Ha!
The funniest part is that I HATE math, with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns.

Soooo

Silence is sometimes a terrible state of being,
probably invented to torture me
and anyone else who over-analyzes things.
Is it comfortable, or awkward?
The question poses a difficulty
in the absence of speech,
filled by heavy breaths and heartbeats.
I reposition myself unsteadily
and ache to fill something,
even if I don't know
quite what it is.
"Soooo...?"






I do that a lot. Even if the silence isn't very long- if I don't want it to be quiet, I start my sentences with "SOOOOOOOO..." as if I'm highlighting the fact that there was an awkward silence happening or about to happen. I really hate it.

Confused

If I could stand up to the truth
then I wouldn't be sitting here, confused,
but love is like no other word
(adjective, noun, or verb)
that I have ever felt-
and who can say I have?
(felt love, I mean.)
One can never tell with these things,
whether I am merely attached
or infatuated.
To be sure I love food, friends,
music, art, and other odds and ends-
but when it comes to romance
(the "May I have this dance?"
kind of stuff)
it all gets fuzzed up.
So you know what?
Screw it.






Haha-! So, I've been going through my things & trying to throw stuff out that I don't need, and that means that I'm going to be submitting a whole bunch of stuff like this. Old poems that haven't seen the light of day for a WHILE.

Intent

She is bent,
intent
on her work,
tongue out
and eyes
squinting.
I try
not to smile,
and instead
duck my head
and write about it.






I find it so cute when people make weird faces when they're concentrating really hard.

Anybodies

There are too few
Somebodies. Me and you,
we're Anybodies, through and through.






A short twist off of Emily Dickinson's poem.

Exam

Rumble, twist, crack and split
open the edges dissolving the
smallest pieces of chemistry
that my mouth can take,
from my stomach leeching into my veins
then my brain then every system is in
hyper-focus warp drive, fingers twitching
eyes open wide and I am washed away in a tide
of movement and stillness and concentration;
every muscle tensing as if there's a fight
happening and I almost love it, the way
my heart races as if we're running
towards something great and then I
remember that I've got some studying
to do, that's the reason for all this
and suddenly all I feel is a weight
pressed against me, saying 'no need to hurry,'
but I know there is
so I try to escape it, and
get back to the crisis at hand-
I've got to ace this exam.







It's funny, in a sort of ironic Shakespearean tragedy kind of way. Or something like that, I don't know.
Wish me luck.

Sky

the sky pulls at my eyes
like it is the magnet and
they are magnetized, insistent
and i can't resist it,
i don't even try.
to let the colors wash over
me, the gradient and cloud
patterns and the enormous
loveliness of everything-
i sink into it like a scented bath,
mentally sighing my no-words-for-this
feeling of
joyreliefhappinessbittersweetamazinghug
and let it fill me up.






I just love looking at the sky. It's something beautiful that I'll never get tired of.

Mayan

I feel somewhat ruined. My
ancient Mayan walls, stone and cold,
covered in ivy and hieroglyphics
that you could never hope
to understand. My fragile body that hides
it all, the arms and hands
that wrap and grip as if
to keep it closed.
There is a continent inside
of me, where things disappear and
I go there sometimes- it's why
I couldn't hear you.
Your words dropped right through
and I let them,
I let them.

I let them go.





I'm not sure what this is about, but I like it? My subconscious is probably laughing at me right now.
PS- I GET IT NOW. (much later...)
.

Unfinishe

the grass that scraped my legs (when
did I start liking shorts again?)
poking up from beneath
the blanket weave. everything between
the partly cloudy sky the air full of heat
and evaporated water and the grass again, crawling
with ants and time. it's like the dentist numbing
my mouth, except it's my brain and
all that I can feel is the hum
and buzz
of something unfinishe








Get it? Anyways.
Fun fun fun.
I feel as if I have more to say about this, but I don't know the right words so never mind.

Down

I had to laugh. There was no avoiding
the bubble of irony, foaming
upward from my lungs and pushing past my
lips, through the tight smile that I
had been holding. Even as I poured
my misery on a piece of plain white
paper, even as I etched a confused scrawl
of pain and bewilderment- even then,
my sentences lifted at the ends.
There was a wedge of blank space
on the bottom right of the page,
as if my words were flying away
or they were climbing a ramp
onto higher ground.
I had to laugh, because
I can’t stay down.





Hahaha! True story. It's an interesting quality. Sometimes I wish I could just wallow in misery like I assume normal people do, but then I realize that it's kind of an endearing quality.
As a friend put it once, "You're like a f*ing fount of hope and optimism. It's a little annoying, but mostly amusing."
.

Cheerfulness

With my feet up on the dash, the world seems
so much friendlier. I have an limitless supply
of smiles, lightweight and easy on the eyes; we
are trading, back and forth. With the stereo blasting
symphonies and orchestras, with the sun blazing
in the sky, with the cheerful politeness and
almost-too-sweet-ness of this iced tea;
the world is where I'd rather be.









CHEERFULNESS, FOR THE WIN.
I admit, I've been harboring a secret love for McDonald's iced tea. It's probably not even tea, but I can't get enough of that cold sugary delight.

Feeble

He said, “I know you want to, but I
don’t because it’s almost impossible for me to
find someone who likes
the things you do, and is gorgeous too.”
I walked him to the door, silently,
wanting to do the ridiculous thing
and comfort him, because
I knew what he meant. Instead I only said
goodbye, locked the door behind him,
and leaned feebly against it. There
was more, I’m sure, but
I don’t know where it went.





"Feeble" is one of those words that starts to sound ridiculous if you say it over & over.
.

I'm

Why am I where I am, why
is someone not with me, why am I
not someplace else? I am not lost,
I am searching.






Guh. I don't really like the way that "I am" repeats in this, but there it is. Staring at me, until I can find a better way of getting this idea out of my head.

Stressed

jittery, like my lungs
are jumping; twitchy,
with my heart pumping
blood so much harder
than it usually does.
fidgeting to relieve
the tension, constantly
squirming beneath
mental duress. all I
can feel is nervous
and stressed.





I'm just on a roll with these semi-awkward & super-personal ones, aren't I?
Wrote this a while ago, back when I was trying to figure out "my future". Ha! It comes and goes. Mostly goes.

Cut

hands shaking- why? body
vibrating, tremors running
through my muscles constantly
and for what reason? not
cold- it is summer
and i can feel the hot
tongue of humidity pressed
against the back of my neck.
arms wrapped around my bent
legs, pulling them in closer
to my chest because I am still
trembling. why?
why?
i am afraid.
i cut the chord, and
i didn't feel a thing.







It took me a while to realize why it was so hard to drink my tea without spilling it.
I'm afraid that I'm becoming a bad person.

Prioritize

knuckle away the tears. red-rimmed eyes
for a character, fictional
and beautiful.
not crying for the days that travel by,
not for the distances between
people, or unchangeable circumstances;
not for tragedies or leaving
your family and friends. instead,
weeping for a book, where
someone dies in the end.





Haha, I admit it! I won't cry for a movie, I don't really cry when I'm sad or in pain, but give me a well-written book where one of the cool characters die & I'll lose it.

Exasperated

I’m having deja vu about when I
had deja vu of having deja vu,
like standing in a room
of mirrors and watching my
reflection repeat eternally
on the panels. It’s scary
and disorienting, like someone
is holding me underwater and I know
I should be drowning
but it’s not working.
Or maybe I’m doing it wrong every time
and God is sighing somewhere, rubbing
small circles where the headache
is, wondering why I didn’t get it
right the first time around.






It's been happening a lot, and I don't hate it but I don't like it either. The other day I had a deja vu, and in the deja vu I said, "Hey, is anyone else feeling deja vu? I swear this has happened before, except then you did something else & I said something else..."
I just sat there until the deja vu passed, feeling glad that someone else had been talking and no one had noticed.

Trust

You pressed the heels of your hands into the hollows
of your eyes, more like hammocks than bags yet still
packed with everything on your mind (so I guess the
imagery is right in the end). Sometimes I doubt if you
think of me of as good friend, because when I ask if you're alright
you tell me that you're fine, and I know it's not true. But then
your dams break and you spill your guts and I offer you tea
and cake, sad with your sadness but pleased with your trust.






I enjoy being trusted, because I tend to trust people.
I really want to explore the "bags under eyes" concept.

Weeks

These weeks between us are tangible things, solid
and intolerably heavy on my mind. For someone
with an attention span like mine, you seem to be so much
further away. Until then I can only sit and wait, not
too patiently, wishing that I could hurry time.






I fail at patience. Which is funny, because I'm almost the most patient person in my family.

Confession

I got hit by a hard decision, and I tried to hide
the bruise from you, but of course it was no use.
With a painful, cold precision, I’ll cut us both wide
open, and try my best to come out clean.
All the words are written
out, and I can’t help but flinch back when
I think of saying them out loud- how will you react?

Lullaby

gentle shush of waves on the shore; sand still warm
beneath me, a solid yet slightly giving support;
moon a silver glowing light, full and soft
through my eyes. these are what I think of
when I'm trying to sleep at night- the
ocean's peaceful lullaby.






I love the ocean. It figures into my writing quite a bit, and it's a little bit of a weakness for me.

Starts

starts of things with which
to fly, sparks that set
fire to my soul- I try
but fail to finish them- idea
after idea condenses into a
few lines or sentences.







I have this habit of starting things, but never completing them. I have an entire word document full of poems that are just waiting for an end.

Accepts

love accepts leaving, lets the tide slide
off of the shore with some gentle elaborations of old
advice, “sssshhhhhhh, things will be alright.” but instead
of uplifting, support, or assistance- there is bitterness,
words of doubt and anger stinging as strongly as salt
in an open wound, fighting against a child that's grown. and
they wonder why I am so eager to leave home.







Just me venting a bit, nothing new.
Goodness knows I love my family dearly, but it would be nice if they could get their act together and help me a bit.

Inappropriate

the friend’s roomate’s grandfather, now dead-
my brows meet, horrified-
can’t help the hysterical giggle, trying to
force it down (down stay down!) but no use-
no idea what he makes of it, I
offer condolences and cookies and
hope that it is enough to cover
a multitude of sins.








It has come to my attention recently, that I have begun to laugh/ giggle at the most inappropriate times. I guess it's a reflex for uncomfortable situations- I laugh when I'm scared, when I don't know what to say, when I think something awful...
I have terrible reflex-actions, don't I?

Ex

the rigid smiled forced, photographed, sorry to
have taken it as I scroll through
the pictures later. almost visible the effort,
orange signs warning of construction, the paint
just barely dried, your pride so close
to disrepair. I force myself not to care, fighting
the urge to straighten your shirt,
tangling my fingers in new hands and seeking support
from a new tower; though neither
tower nor support you ever were
to me, and I still don’t know
what I was to you. no anger,
no regret, no bitter hastily proclaimed
wishes that I could forget you
forever (you are still too dear, I acknowledge, for that);
only pity, on both our parts, for
something that I will never fully understand.








I can't help but laugh a little bit inside.
I think I handled the meeting pretty well, actually.

Deja Vu

deja vu is the feeling when jeans are choking
your hips but fit perfectly
around your legs; being in a dream
and just knowing something
without having to know where
the knowledge came from; simultaneously being
trapped in a cage
and being outside of that cage, holding
the key and swallowing it whole so
that neither of you will ever escape;
trying not to love someone, trying to forget
them with so much of your will that
you give up a part of your heart
in the process; uncomfortable, slightly
unpleasant, but worn in and familiar. deja vu
is the feeling when jeans are
choking
your
hips






I'm counting "deja vu" as one word, just for the sake of this thing.
It flows more like prose to me, but I cut it up for some reason that I forget at the moment.
Oh well.

Feathers

the wind pressing between my fingers, pulling
like someone eager to show me something
beautiful, makes me wish they were feathers
and i would be riding the thermals, nearer
to the clouds and
to the sun
and God.






walking down the sidewalk on a windy day, just nonchalantly open your hands and spread out your fingers- feels amazing.

Same

"it's because we're always
on the same page," she explained,
smiling. "hell, we probably
come from the same book." i
didn't know what i could add to
make it more true,
so i agreed with the statement while
a part of me inside
screamed, "thank you, thank you, thank you."






I love it when people say things that seem so powerful to me, and they don't even realize it. It makes it more special.

Impossibilities

to tame subtle shifts in air, columns of
thermals holding up the sky tilting
slightly to the right, the left, backwards, swaying twisting
like a falling feather or a lazy swimming snake, to take
the bent cushioning of life and make it straight,
to heal a hurt, to forever take the pain away.

 

Tease

the way the sun slants through the windows,
gracefully soaring and warming
the air as it passes.
unburdened by classes for a little while,
the feeling on the sun smiling down
on me is incomparable. but oh, when
school starts up again, that same sun
will be unbearable. teasing me with freedom
just beyond the
walls; illuminating just the clock,
so i can see how
slow
time
crawls.
and yet no matter
how i'm tortured, when i step outside
all my sighs melt into laughter,
and all my cares hang out to dry.






I can't be the only one that feels like those perfect spring/summer days love to come out while you're in the middle of class, and hang out outside the window so that you have to try really hard to concentrate.
I can't.

Jessica & Alia

She leaves an impression like bare feet in soft
earth, rain boots across dry floor, galoshes
through fresh snow. I imagine that she transforms
things sometimes, just by taking a record
of her world, as if the lens was
a wand and she was magical. Volatile,
handle with love. This side up-
side down, turning into something
more wonderful than usual.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

There is a world of distinct lines and shadows, colors
and soft circles that I cannot see; but she
can. With her eyes the world is a more intriguing
place, as if every moment is potentially
something and nothing is the wisest sort of everything
imaginable. The sunrise is brighter on her side,
the snow whiter and the world
a more [ _____ ] place. Even if I tried,
I could never erase the memory of
her face laughing in the lowlights.









Two of my muses.
Combined, they are
CAPTAIN PLANET!
[or something like that?]

Pressing

I can feel the distance growing like a solid thing,
a coil around my lungs that keeps on tightening
until it's a struggle to keep breathing.
The weight of it presses against my eyes like
fat greedy fingers fighting to find the hidden prize.
I try to push back, but the pressure holds fast.
"My Dear," Distance laughs,
"You could never fight me! I am constantly
a threat, and we'll inevitably meet
again." I wanted to forget those words, but they
itched in my chest and burned my soul with truth.
Now I feel them every time I say goodbye,
and often when I'm missing you.







Awwwww.
I can't seem to stop writing this kind of poem, possibly because I feel guilty for not keeping in touch/ visiting all of my friends.

Unable

i want to describe what’s going on
in my mind, but i can only think of metaphors
and similes that all fall short
of what i’m really thinking. i’m leaning
against a shut door, listening to him breathing
on the other side. he’s in the room with me, but i’m hiding
so he can’t see me. we’re sitting together, and i
want to reach out and touch him and let him
hold me. all of my-selves are fighting them-selves
and they’re all losing. the river is carrying
me, and i let it. there’s something i need to remember, but
i just want to forget it.






I CAN'T STOP, AAH HELP ME PLEASE.

Want

I want the sun to soak into me, absorbed
by my pores and poured
into my soul, the energy of light
used to power my life. I want
to lay in its rays like
the laziest cat, stretched
in a patch of soft warm grass. I want to bask
by the pool and on the hillsides, too:
Spring and Summer, please come soon.






Today I enjoyed the sun.
I'm so excited.

Stranger

I can barely breathe in the vacuum that you bring,
I can’t think thoughts through and I
certainly can’t say what I’m thinking [of you].
So I’m left gasping for air like I’m drowning in
this memory that I can’t let go of,
the one where ants are biting my legs
so you tell me to curl up higher onto the blanket
and I’m shivering because the dew is wet
and I’m cold so you spread your cloak over me
and just hold me,
hold me so close
under the night sky and
you fall asleep right there with your arms around me,
breathing into my hair
with my face pressed against your chest.
But
it’s just
a memory,
and so many things have changed since then
that I wonder who you are
sometimes, when I’m staring at the ceiling
when I can’t sleep at night.
Who does this love belong to?
But the last thing I saw of you was your back, and
you'll never hear what I want to say.
So I eventually fall asleep,
loving the feel of air in my lungs.









So... I just wanted to try this style out, to see if I could even do it. This was so difficult, really it was! But I liked writing it, so we'll see if I can try to mix it up every now and then.

Slow

whoosh swish thud whump
ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump beeeeeeeeep
Wait, what just happened to me?
It’s like I went all day crossing the street
and never once looked to see
if there were any cars coming. If I had looked
before I made the leap, would I have
stepped back and said, “No”?
Or would I have thrown sense to the wind and
let myself go? It’s hard enough to function
without having to think of things I don‘t know.








AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH.
I just wanted to write something like, "Wait, what? Oh, eff it."

Wolfish

your voice sent shivers along my skin,
a wolfish whisper outside my door
that i wanted so badly to let in.
you huffed and puffed, you laughed and sighed-
my brick wall had crumbled,
but i didn't care at the time.
the threat of your bite,
though, still weighed on my mind-
neat little rows of tiny sharp knives,
ready to scar.
"watch out for my back," you said,
"that's where the sharpest teeth are."
i felt no danger when i touched your face,
i feared no attack while within your embrace,
but i learned the truth of that warning
when you left me one day;
strangely silent
after our final retirement
on the dewy hillside,
having just watched the sky
with our fingers entwined.
yet you breezed frigidly past,
and the teeth in your back snapped
shut on my heart. you continued to leave,
but i was too startled to think
of any reasons why you should have stayed.
It's quite some time later,
now; my scars have just faded
into strong metal bars
reinforcing my wall,
never to crumble like it did once before.
you'll be the last wolf to get past my doors.









I feel as if this one is abnormally lengthy, for some reason.
Oh, fun fact!-
"Watch out for my back, that's where the sharpest teeth are," is an actual quote from a true life experience.
I thought it was an odd thing for him to say, but it's really been quite inspiring.

Recover

The tissues and teardrops
that follow heartbreak and hardknocks
are absolutely useless, as far as I can see.
None of that crying
or dramatization can do anything
to help me get back on my feet.
Instead I should pause, think,
and continue to breathe deep.
I can't pick up the pieces
if I'm clutching my chest,
so put all that weeping and wailing to rest!

Lungs

I have to force myself
to breathe occasionally,
like my body breaks down
or forgets how to run and
needs a little push to start
again. It’s like my lungs
are trying to remind me
that while my heart may hurt
sometimes, I will always have
that urge to be alive.







Also a true story.
A friend made a comment one day about how I was sighing so much, which made me realize that I would stop breathing for a bit and then have to take this huge breath to catch up on oxygen.
It's pretty weird.

Numbing

Winter, please hold me.
I want to feel frigid arms
squeezing the warmth from my heart,
I want to paint my insides white
and feel the ice
rush inside
the sudden emptiness of me.
If you could make
me like the snow,
then I would only take
a record of love leaving
but not really feel anything
when it goes.







True Facts.
Sometimes I want to be numb to things.
But then I remember that everything is beautiful (in its own way), and I take it back.

Branded

The burden presses each capital
hot-metal-letter
into my chest, burning a word
where I let your love rest.
Deaf to Please!,
mute to Stay!,
blind to everything else
that doesn’t smell of smoke and cold
earth and pheromones. Someday
I’ll be free of
this, I know;
but how much further
down this road?






(I don't know...)
This is one of those that just sat there forEVER and bugged me until I slapped something at the end so I could say that I finished it.
But I still love it, so there. ♥

Shock

It’s like I’m in shock,
as if my heart is stopped
(except that I know that it’s not,
because it’s beating so fast!)
I don’t know whether I should laugh
or cry, or just crawl into a hole and die,
I don’t know I don’t know
I really just don’t have a clue what to do.
What is this feeling?
Am I feeling anything?
I don’t know I don’t know
I’m not entirely sure what I feel for you,
but if you’re willing to try
then so am I.





For serious.
I feel like I'm in one of those cartoons, where something goes by so fast that somebody is left spinning & then they get all dizzy with little birds or something.
Exactly like that right now.

Slips

Heartbeat skips, trips,
passes and fumbles, slips
and slides down that slope again.
I thought I wanted to just be friends?





Just a short little thing so I didn't feel guilty about completely ignoring V-Day.
Not that I really like this holiday, since I think we should celebrate love every day, but whatever, you know? I'm cool with it.

Unique

I seek solace in my speakers,
in my pen and papers,
in a story, and in sunlight.
I feel most lovely at midnight,
when the stars are shining
in the sky. British humor
makes me laugh,
and I’d rather take a bath
than a shower
at any hour. These things
make me unique,
and I love them about me.








Ooh, another poem about me.
How original,
[not].

Body

Dear Heart, please get with the program.
Every other organ
knows that the hard truth of this situation
will never change,
so we’d all appreciate
if you stopped playing this game
and just let Brain win.
Dear Heart, we hate to say that we told you so
and rub salt in your wounds, but…
we definitely warned you,
you know we did.






It's like this: I KNOW that I shouldn't feel this way. But I do, and it's really annoying.

Oceanic

I want to whisper waves against
your shoreline silhouette,
crashing my fingertips against your skin
and folding them in
to your oceanic heart until we forget
everything except
the lullaby tide
that is
us
just
breathing.







Strangely, love is always connected to the ocean in my mind.
Okay, maybe not so strange now that I think about it.

Tragedy

I was mostly sad to see the scar fade,
after wishing so much that it would stay.
Wouldn’t it be nice, I had thought,
as a reminder not to let the ice inside my heart
thaw out. What a tragedy that would be,
if I had to feel things deeply
once more.







Ugh.
I want a boyfriend.
Soulmates are so hard to come by these days.

Contentment

So I had this dream where I was dancing
with this guy while I was only wearing
a towel. Then he laid down on the tile,
and I laid down next to him, and we just
watched each other. It sounds weird now, but it
was so peaceful and comfortable and
just nice-feeling in general, I think.








7 lines, 10 beats per.
I don't think "nice-feeling" is a word, but it stays until I look something up that fits better.
He's very handsome, by the way.

Reinstated

Just the invitation that could lead
to a conversation where we
would actually speak! was almost too much
for me to take,
my heart beat its way up into my mouth
and stayed there the whole hour
that we laughed with each other.
I had to talk around it
as if I had bitten off more than I could chew
and was chewing with my mouth open
to you. Really, the truth is that
my heart is what was open to you, and
the sound of your laughter and
the way you sigh during small pauses while
you’re searching for something to say.
Sometimes your words would boost me up inside,
and I felt more bright for them.
So all of you came rushing in,
and I’m almost sad to say that I bit down
on the whole she-bang, hook line and sinker.
Is it bad that I let you in again?
I can’t bring myself to care.
Go ahead, here’s your old office-
it’s not like anyone else was going to work there.






For someone who left, but has come back.
The way things were before everything.

Nautical

I held you to my ear hoping
to hear a heartbeat but I only
heard the ocean
I try to sleep but can only lie awake
haunted by the roaring sound of your waves
breaking against my semi-solid shores
sucking at the sand beneath my feet because
I offered you my love
but you didn’t want it anymore





Aurgh.
Why is it that warm emotions are harder for me to convey?

Similar

Whole body tremors, chest tight, can’t breathe,
eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared, tears burn.
You make me laugh so hard
that it feels a little bit like dying.
It’s the best feeling you could give me,
and I wouldn’t trade it for a thing.









I love those moments.
I need to start writing things a bit more chipper.

Emptiness

Emptiness, deceptive and mean-spirited, steals
memory so that I forget
what was it that I was longing for?
And oh the longing,
emptiness reminds me of it with
a nasty self-pleased sneer saying,
You don’t have it, you don’t have it,
it’s gone and you want it
back. What, whom, where, when?
I cannot recall the thing or place or friend
that I am vacant of, but I can feel the
weight and shape of its loss
inside of me. What a tragedy!







I really, really, REALLY want sushi.

Affect

“Hey.”
My heart stops & skips a beat.
My knees shouldn’t be this weak!
My will of iron turns
to easily malleable gold.
Where is the determination
I felt so strongly a moment ago?

“What’s up?”
Oh shut up, shut up shuttup!
I can’t seem to get enough
of the way your voice sounds,
so stop talking and maybe
I’ll be alright. You still affect me, but
I’ll never let you know.






Here's to getting over people.

Ignore

Cold nights are like reminders,
bits of string tied around my fingers,
bows caught on the edges of my mind. Thoughts and feelings,
conversations and dreams- things I’d almost left behind.
These blankets and covers could never disguise
the feeling of longing that I’m ignoring inside.
I’ve shut my eyes tight, but your smile still shines
on the back of my eyelids. Don’t worry,
this doesn’t mean that you’ve gotten to me-
as long as I don’t want to face it,
then there’s nothing waiting to be seen.







This is and example of the ostrich's method of living.
It doesn't work.