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.)