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poetry

The Storm

There was a storm outside

And I stayed in

I sat in my bedroom

With thoughts squished in

I took off my glasses

And looked through the pane

I looked at the snow

Which turned slickly to rain

The sky seemed so close

And blankets the trees

I sat in my chair

But I’d rather be on my knees

I’d rather be clutching a symbol

Or a pillow or two

I’d rather having nothing

Nothing else to do

But even as I write this

My phone starts to buzz

One day until assignment due

Yet my head’s full of fuzz

Because I have a million thoughts

That soar and crash above my head

I have too little time

And not enough has been said

So I sit in the storm

And watch the wind sigh

And I say goodbye to this moment

To this moment, goodbye

***

Where I come from, the weather changes faster than the hours in the day sometimes. Storms are not common, but their occurrence is often expected. There is something magical about sitting inside when it becomes almost impossible to go out, and it usually leaves me reflecting. The rain and the clouds create the best days, in my opinion.

Categories
poetry

Beware.

Be careful of the road you travel

And wary of its travelers

Be careful at whom you smile

And for who you give your secrets to

Keep your truths and tell your lies

Until the barrier bends

And binds you to one

Universal

Truth.

Be wary

Beware.

***

A poem written in the dark of the night and I still cannot deduce what inspired me to write this. It reminds me of something that should be written on a wooden sign, posted just outside a dark forest. I will keep this poem with me until I finally achieve my life-long dream of becoming a woodland hermit, for perhaps then, this poem will find its true calling.

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poetry

Gotcha

Not all poems are cleverly written

Even the ones we enjoy

Very often we deplore the intellectual

Even though they implore our employ.

Reasons behind our mundane ways

Go back older than time

Over the centuries, we’ve evolved

Negating complex rhyme.

No soul today knows the sway

And no soul today truly writes

Great minds today repeat the before

In closed doors on haze-filled nights.

Versatile and volatile poets now

Even the controversial too

Yak and yak about nothing but nonsense

Only nonsense and nothing they spew.

Under the past and the rhymes and the riddles

Under the hidden message we find

Poetry about dear Rick Astley, who got you this time

***

This was a comedic poem written for the same writing group. I am extremely proud it let. Let me know when you understand its message 🙂

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poetry

The Lie

I was once a fairy

Small, bright, and airy

On a meadow of dandelions and flowers

But when the Queen of the Night

Began the hopeless fight

Floral turned to blood showers

I was a warrior and fighter

Who delighted in lighter

Fluids and matches and red sky

So after the fire

I sought even higher

Skies to mask the tears I can’t cry

I lived too long in my head

And began to remember the dead

Friends, foes, and others

So when the moon hung high

I said goodbye

To this world absent of my brothers

When I awoke once again

Without a familiar sight or friend

I became scared and started to cry

The tears were real

And I can still feel

My new mother’s warm hands and eyes

She took me back home

No longer strong or alone

Even as I whine and kick and wail

But no matter my size

My mother’s green eyes

Begin and end my tale

***

This was a part of a prompt from a small writing group. I wanted to tell a fantastical tale, and what better way to do so than limericks? Although I keep a strong faith in the fey, magic, and reincarnation, I don’t believe I was a fairy in my past life. If I was, why change to a human? Isn’t that a downgrade? Unlike fairies, I have limited knowledge on the workings of the metaphysical.

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poetry

Two Blue Eyes

Two blue eyes

Caught me by surprise

As candlelight flickered dim.

And as time unwinds

My heart finds

An… uncomfortable whim.

As memories unbidden

Come riddled, yet ridden

Of the regrets I hold dear,

It is my choice

To weaken the voice

That vocalizes every fear.

For even the ocean of tears

Collected over years

Disappears in the candle’s flame,

For the light roars loud

Big, bright, and proud

To char my useless shame.

What starts as a lament

Jaded and Hell-bent

On sending me back to that day,

Two blue eyes

Caught by surprise

Make sure that I stay.

***

We all have a support system of some sort, even if it’s just our own subconscious. In this case, the poem represents the other. What started as a jaded poem eventually turned into one of hope, and I wonder if that represents peace. Time will only tell.

Categories
poetry

Day and Night

The day calls me away

In a way that I can’t describe

And with a sigh

And long goodbye

I return to diurnal diatribe

I can’t bash the sun and its warmth

That kept me warm in the shade

So, I still smile

Just for awhile

As I glance at its rays

But oh, the night and all its glory

Tells a much different story

One of laughter and howls and tears

Liquid joys and mournful fears

I feel my heart race with freeing thought

Moon shining on forget-me-nots

I remember the moments in between time

Churning out story and rhyme

Music was brighter

My heart was lighter

I hear its voice

I’m given no choice

So I go.

This is a goodbye to the sun

A goodbye to the day

A hello to endless fun

And endless, strange, new play

I leave you, day, with this message

And I hope it strikes you true

Enjoy your time

And the sunshine

Before giving away to the plutonian view

***

As always, the first lines come to mind and the poem continues from there. There are millions of sonnets, poems, stories, and ballads about the contrast of night and day, a contrast that continues to aspire creative souls everywhere. Including myself.

Categories
poetry

The Balance

I watched everything hang in the balance
On a Tuesday night
I watched as people screamed and shouted
Over my people’s rights
I watched the numbers climb and climb
In a fight between blue and red
Right then, I wished to be a million miles away
Or just tell everyone I’m dead
I can’t think of world where I can’t love
In the way people think is wrong
I can’t live in a world where everyone’s stripped of rights
And the majority just move along
For we will always have that little voice
That asks, “what about me?”
And until that little voice is answered
We are never “free”
So, tonight I watch my life hang in the balance
Between parties of red and blue
And I wish I was wise enough
To know exactly what to do

***

There is nothing more terrifying than watching other people fight for control over one’s life. This poem was made in early November, as one might’ve guessed, and I believe it still applies now. After all, is the battle ever truly over when more sides wait in the wings?

Categories
poetry

Heart Size

How is it possible

To want to be so big and so small

At the same time?

To be so large that I encompass the world

And so small the world never sees me

How is it possible that I want my heart to be so big

But it’s always three sizes too small?

Or one size too large?

***

I fear by writing an explanation it will succeed the length of the poem itself. It was created at that timeless hour when I can still see light long after the sun has set, and perhaps also after watching a sad movie. Melancholy is a creative force like no other.

Categories
poetry

The Way I Am

Sometimes I’m a trickster

Whose eyes are filled with glee

Sometimes I’m a beggar

Asking for anything to be

Sometimes your heart is mine

And sometimes I am yours

Sometimes I jump through windows

Because I can’t get through closed doors

Sometimes I’m so ugly I hate mirrors

Because they reflect my goblin face

Sometimes I just grimace at my reflection

Because I think I have no taste

I can carry the world on my shoulders

But one more person, and I might break

I shout random things that hurt others

Then cry for self-pity’s sake

Sometimes I want to sleep for days

Then get up only to live through one more

Sometimes I’m wealthy

And other times I’m poor

Sometimes I marry a murderer

And sometimes you’re my princess bride

Sometimes I create things

To help the others hide

I’m a girl to society

And a person to myself

I can break a wrist in seconds

But will always cry for help

I write words on my skin until the pen bleeds

Only to have them disappear tomorrow

Sometimes it hurts to breathe

Because my heart’s so full of sorrow

But I know that no matter what I am

Whether goblin god or tree

You’ll always smile

And stay beside me

***

Apologies and a bag of chips to all who noticed I didn’t post this Friday! My schedule has kept me busy and I haven’t gotten a good paragraph of writing for ages. This is an older poem, a more intense poem, but it still makes sense poem. Overall, it has a sweet message. I promise to get something out once I enter the eye of the hurricane that wasn’t written ages ago.

Categories
poetry

The Greenroom

There’s no place like the greenroom.

There’s no place to sit

There’s no place to stand

We’re packed in

Touching hand to hand

I grab a chair and listen above

Hearing the chatter of the audience I love

While a fairy does her makeup

And the queen laughs with the men in black

Who stay back

To make sure we shine

And the hour is mine

There’s no place like the stage.

And the rushing and pounding rage

My heart goes into every time I take my place

Every time I stood with painted face

I remember my makeup man’s smile

And my mother’s proud grin

I remember the laughter of the crowd

And the music’s little spin

There’s no place where the air is thick with art

And the words we recite live in our heart

There’s no place where even empty rooms are filled to the brim

There’s no way to make that audience applause dim

Because there’s no place like the greenroom.

The home of the actors.

The home of the performers.

The home of the stagehands.

The home in my heart.

***

I’ve mentioned a greenroom in several of my poems (shared or otherwise), because the setting marks the beginning and end to a chapter in my life. A chapter that made me grow and adapt as a human being, and a chapter that I both cherish and loathe. I will always remember my time backstage and on stage, and the lovely people I met. I couldn’t describe accurately the feeling of either, yet I try through rhyming word. Enjoy.