Small Child

Small child,
So fragile
But so strong.

Going to save the world,
Going to rule the world.
But death will come,
Must come to him
And death itself with die.

But for now,
He will sleep,
Cradled in loving arms
And the world will wait
To love and hate him.

Home,
Back where I long to be
Surrounded
By family
By friends,
Though there remains
This desire
To pull two worlds together,
I shall remain content
With what I am given.

So much time.
So long to spend
Home.

Every time I go to make tea,
There is this paralyzing fear
That there will be no hot water,
And my life will spiral
Into a never-ending torment
Of chaos and destruction.

The lonely sound
Of a mournful wind
Blowing erratically
Through the shifting trees.

That's what it sounds like
When I try to whistle.

Yeah,
I wax poetic.

I hate people.
They remind me of joy.
They recall old friends
Old memories and moments.

They remind me that someone cares
That I can be happy.
They remind me of all that is good.
And I just want to run away.

I really despise people.

I miss your arms around my shoulders.
I miss your heartbeat.
I miss that grin I always tell you to wipe away.
I miss your eyes.
I miss your soothing hands.
I miss your strength.

I miss you.

And this isn't a very happy poem,
Not for an anniversary,
Not until you replace every single "miss"
With the much-too-short "love."

La Lune

So beautiful,
So high above,
She shone so bright tonight
As I sit hidden away
And work on my laptop.

How I yearn
To shine as bright as
La lune.

Thankful for life and limb,
For school and home,
I casually cram for a paper
Though I would not go back
And trade time with love
For time to type.

To a Friend:

Please forgive my hardened scars.
They're what I get
For choosing this profession.

Please forgive my silence.
I've written so much
I've forgotten how to speak.

Forgive my terror.
Somewhere I learned not to trust.
By God's grace I'm learning I'm wrong.

Please forgive my long memory.
I dwell perhaps too long
On my actions and words.

Please forgive me.
I will never be perfect
But through friendships
I become a little more so.

Watching the Meteor Shower

Look at the stars...
So bright,
So many,
So hard to believe
That each was hung
In their place
One by one.
Stars, in your multitudes...
Too much to see,
Too much to know
To feel,
To learn and love.
Choose something like a star...
And as voices
Strike out across the night,
Echoing over the empty field,
The world is a large
Small space indeed.

I feel the wind at my back,
Pushing me forward
And on into the night.

Guide me to bed, wind;
Buffet me to safety.
On this lonely starry night
I can pretend your force
Is arms leading me onward
As I dance alone through the dark.

I want to be shown respect
For being a human being.
I am after all a reflection,
However poor,
Of the divine.

Respect me because I'm me.
Don't show me courtesy
Due to the genes I was ascribed,
But as your equal in humanity.

That's all I want to be.

I forgot their names,
The animals that I used to love.
They slept by side
Every night
Or watched over my room
Every day.
I gave them all names
And now they're gone.

Damn my poetic heart,
Damn my stupid poetic heart
That makes every song
A symphony
And every tear
A waterfall.

While I could say
That the sweetest sound
I long for
Is the voice of the one I love
Or the sound of my sister's feet
Sliding down the steps
Or my parent's wisdom,
The one I love the most right now
Is the lovely intonation
Of boiling water ready for tea

(Sorry, no Halloween themed poems for you! the Muse is not in such a mood.)

When Did I Grow Up?

When did I grow up?
When did I cease
To be a child?
When did I grow up?
When did I head out
Into the wild?

When did I grow up?
When did I start
To face my fears?
When did I grow up?
When did I learn
To hide my tears?

A poem to chase the tears away.
A poem to bring the smiles around.
A poem to start the break of day.
A poem to send the sadness down.

I need one of those;
I want one of those.
I shall wander through Psalms,
Burrow through all I know
Until I find that rainbow
That follows the tears of parting.

The leaves are leaving,
Fluttering to the ground
To lie like limpid shapes
On the damp ground.

There's a statisfying sound
When they're kicked up
And they rustle and cling
To your shoes for a mite.

Pick up the dry pretty ones
And stick them under or in
A heavy book to press them.
Hurry, before the leaves leave.

Aches and pains
From dancing
And bowling.

Ah,
But it was
A wonderful weekend,
Though it made
Me miss my friends.

Good thing
That soon I can
Return home
And eat frozen
Cake saved for me.

Happy Birthday to my sister,
The one I love so well,
Happy Birthday to my sister,
Of her joys I hope to tell.

Her sweet and winning smile,
Her humor oh so brash,
Sister turned eighteen today
She growing up quite fast.

I'm going to make
Songs about being alone
My theme songs now.

Look at my face.
Regarde mon visage.
Amst I bovvered forsooth?
Face bothered?
Bothered face?
I ain't even bovvered.

Jimmy cracks corn
And I don't give a damn
Because my tea's getting cold
And I'm out of chocolate.

My stream of consciousness
Is less awesome
Than T.S. Elliot's.
He must've had more tea
And better angst.

Teacup

There is such sadness
At the bottom
Of a teacup.

How empty
The vessel is,
Devoid of liquid joy.

Cold and Sad

The wind,
cold and sad,
longs for us,
reaches for us
with naught but love
and his chilling fingers.
How he years
to tickle them
through our hair,
across our eyes,
around our souls.
The wind,
Cold and sad,
Can merely wish
For what joys
We mortal lovers forget.

They gasp
As she turns
Her head from side
To side
To show her scars
And they marvel
At the ruined beauty
And pledge more support.
She smiles
Like a woman
Daring to hope again
For the first time.
They applaud her bravery
So she blushes.

Once show and tell is done
Her boss thanks her
And she goes home
To her modest flat
And washes off the make-up
So the scars the crowd loves
Flow down the sink
And her real ones show.
'Cause the real ones
Were never pretty enough
To earn pity.

No stars.
I pull aside the curtain
From my place on my bed.

All I wanted
Were stars.
Tiny orbs of light
Far away
Bring strange hope.
That's all I wanted.

But I can't even glimpse
The moon
For the reflected
Harsh glare
Of the streetlamps.

All I wanted
Was a star.

It's funny
How sorrows melt
When dancing.
Because songs
Transcend the moment
And remind of
Other little moments
And memories
That aren't reachable.
So one grows sad.

But then a hand
Reaches out,
Attached to a friend
And his smiling face.
"Would you care to dance?"

At the start,
Your smile is fake,
An act.
But then it becomes
real.

Le Rossignol

Les poets n'ont pas des frontières.

Nous sommes citoyens
Du monde.
Nos mots sont
Nos drapeaux.
Nous sommes pour
Tous les temps
Et tous les vies.

Les poets n'ont pas des frontières.

Nous sommes le vert de printemps,
Le chaud d'été,
Le rouge d'automne,
Et le froid d'hiver.
Nous sommes vieux et jeunes,
Vrai et faux.

Les poets n'ont pas des frontières.
Et nous payons avec nos vies.

My heart hurts.
Somebody fix it
Because I'm going
To run out
Of chocolate and tea.
No rhyme,
No reason to this;
Just struggling
And confusing
Humanity messing things up.
 
As usual.

I refuse to cry.
I've done enough of that
In these recent times.

Homesickness
Is so easy to ignore
When there's homework
And dancing
But then one old hymn,
Sung at advent
In your mind,
Appears and suddenly
Home is very far away.

Rage,
Goddess sing
The rage
Of one remembering
And regretting.
Rage,
Sing the rage
And let it burn,
But do not destroy.
Ilium was always
Meant to fall.

I want time to fly.
I know it will,
So it's an easy wish.
While yes,
I want to cherish
Every fleeting moment
Of my first year
Away at school,
I'm also anxious
To end this time
Away from you.

What do you say,
When you're afraid
Of anything of substance?

And then you hate
Yourself for this fear
Because doesn't

"I love you" mean
"We can talk about
The hard stuff?"

Or maybe it's
"I'll protect you
From the hard stuff."

But either way,
You're too afraid
To try and win.

The Golden Thread and Black Cord

I think too much.
Sometimes.
Because when I've
Thought myself
Into a funk
I think myself
Deeper and deeper-

That's the thing with artists.
In order to create
We have to open ourselves up
To every emotion,
From the deepest of sorrows
To the highest of joys

We're balancing on a golden thread
Trying not to fall
And be lost in the fatal ecstasy
While the black cord
Wraps around your throat
And you can't breathe!

People ask,
"How do you like your tea."
And I always respond:
"Black-"
And depending on the company,
"Like my heart."

That's the thing about jokes.
There's always a bit of truth. 

Où es-tu?

Où es-tu?
Mon amour,
Mon cher,
Où es-tu?

Je me sens si seul,
Je doute,
Je crains
Et me sens négligés
Et pourquoi tu
Ne pas écrire?

Où es-tu?

La nuit est si belle.
Je suis si seul.

There is something
Magical
About a room full
Of bodies moving
And dancing
In time
But they're just
A blur
Because all that matters
Is that one couple,
That pair who know
Just how the other
Will move
And they're perfect,
Every turn
And touch,
Even in their mistakes.

And you're not jealous.
Not envious.
You're in love
With another couple's
Love

I wanted you
To laugh
When I told you
About finding Narnia,
Not explain
The science I could
Have used in ending
A fabricated mystery.

You can't be with me,
But I thought
I could still
Share the magic with you.

Tonight's the night.
It all breaks loose.
Dear Lord,
Preserve my feels
As I prepare for the
Series 7 Premiere
Of Doctor Who.

Swing Club

Spun around and around
And around and back again
Keeping time
In mind and feet
And somehow staying afloat
In a glorious whirlwind,
That's me
Who's now at the bottom
But sees how easy it is
To dance her way to success.

Talking to Someone Imagined

What is this human need
To share?
It is,
I suppose,
Natural to long
To pour out my heart
To a friend that will
Not understand
But care anyway.

Life is lonely
With out another soul
To hold

The urge to dance
Burns and overwhelms
Even as the limbs
Ache
And the bones
Scream
There is still an itch
That begs
For release
Even at the cost
Of dignity,
Of pride,
But what does that matter
In the face
Of glowing creativity?

I am alone.
I am at peace.

Because, though my
Treacherous heart
Refuses to believe it,
I know that I
Do not walk alone,
That a Love
Greater than imagined
Is with me.

The past is gone;
All that matters
Is the present.

I know now
That I forgave them
Long ago.
I just forgot
To forgive myself.

Why are there emotions?
They only get in the way
Of sanity.
They hold back reason,
Stop conversations
For choked throats
And choking words.

But then again,

You never saw
The pain inside.
I suppose this means
I knew how to hide.

Though look at me now
I'm such a success.
I'll take my fill;
You can have the rest.

But there's a part of me still
That yearns to be known,
To have what I can't own.

The time grows short.
And all too soon,
The world will be upended
To never be the same again.

A Drink Unwanted

It is strange,
Feeling simultaneously
Selfish and selfless.
Strange and difficult.

Because one knows
Which side will win,
Must win,
And yet choice burns
Like the first sip
Of alcohol down the throat.

Covered by clouds,
The sun burns red
As I grow older
And lonelier.

I'm moving.
But I don't entirely want to.

I do want an new adventure.
A new climate.
(I never really had
A chance to be a part
Of the group that I
Wanted to be friends with.
A chance to not be
Excluded at school
Is why I'm leaving this
Cursed state.)

I want to learn,
To be surrounded by learners.
I'm so excited.
I can't wait!

And yet,
I can.
Because I shall leave
Too many true friends.
Skype and Facebook
Are terrible replacements
For the joys of
Laughter and Hogan's Heroes parties.

To be honest,
College is what I'm looking
Forward to most,
But also a pain I'm starting
To dread.

Oh My Soul

Oh my soul,
Why do you despair?
What right have to cry?
God has blessed you,
So why does this reminder
Make you weep all the more?

Oh my soul,
Why do you despair?
Is not life enough?
Is not the breath of God
A balm for your wounds?

Oh my soul,
Why do you despair?
You could never have
Changed anything anyway.

Down, down,
To the ground.
Can I do anything
To turn it around?

Tick Tock Sherlock

Tick tock goes the clock
His heart the King will burn.
By the fall defeat the foe
The Virgin shall return.

Tick tock goes the clock
The Iceman had to pay
It broke his heart that for his sin
His brother could not stay

Tick tock goes the clock
The Adler soon shall see
That when it came to his end
She should have begged for mercy.

Tick tock goes the clock
The Mouse she holds the fuse.
Tick tock until the day
That they unveil the ruse.

Tick tock goes the clock
His heart the King will burn.
By the fall defeat the foe
The Virgin shall return.

Tick tock goes the clock
A genius they did hate.
As he dies they realize
Their grave mistake too late.

Tick tock goes the clock
Inspector that was he.
To the fallen friend he’ll love
For his strange strong bravery.

Tick tock goes the clock
His heart the King will burn.
By the fall defeat the foe
The Virgin shall return.

Tick tock goes the clock
Mums are hard to come by
Tick tock was the hour
That her not-son did fly.

Tick tock goes the clock
Oh, the friends we leave.
The army doctor, always true
Forever he will grieve.

Tick tock goes the clock
His heart the King will burn.
By the fall defeat the foe
The Virgin shall return.

Poison

Words like poison,
Dying to be said,
To wound,
To scar,
So that I am not
The only one in pain.

Words like poison,
Twisting like a knife,
That will never be uttered
And so it's my heart alone
That turns slowly black.

The clouds tease
And taunt.
Promising refreshing rain,
Catharsis,
 Relief.
But we are denied.
And that which might
Have been good
Is delayed,
Leaving us staring at the sky
In disappointment,
Singing and praying
For rain.

Kneading Bread

It's powerful,
The feeling of dough in your hands
And flour caking it all.
There's this connection,
To millions
Who through the years
Have flipped,
Folded,
Pressed
Bread dough until it is ready.
It's glorious,
Kneading bread.
Who would let a machine
Connect to history for them?

I should draw again.
All these images
Bursting in my mind
That cannot be put into words.

If only my hand would cooperate

I hate myself a little
For finding a small thing to smile at
And acting on the tiny joy
When this seems such a time
That the sun will forget its light.
But I cannot help myself
And only hope
That the sorrowed knows
My heart breaks as well.
It's just mastered multitasking
To survive.

The sky is a perfect canvas.
It conveys,
All at once in gathered clouds,
The rushèd stillnes
Nature was born with,
For as the clouds stay present
I feel they move.

The radient sun,
Ever godly in his sphere,
Adds color and drama
To this free tableau.

Red skies give
Warning or delight
And always blessèd inspiration.

Write on,
Paint on,
With the blessing
Of the Artist Most High.

I can't move.
To move would be
To disrupt the conversation
In the other room
And I can't do that.

Because if I moved,
If I disturbed the phone call,
Then I would go all the way
To grabbing the mobile
With my own hand
And hanging up
On the abusive little-

That's harsh.
Maybe.
But to hear my sister,
The smaller and younger
Sometimes wiser one
That is not a mini me,
Sadly say,
"No one listens
To my opinions anyway,"
Pushes the limit
Of a sister's restraint.

Hypocrite.
Judge.
Stubbon.
Self-Righteous.
These words leap to mind
Like poison
Even as I recall a flash of oreos,
A swift giggle,
And down the stairs
To sleepless nights they go.

And it's too bad
This care and passion
The caller has
For animals,
The poor,
And Lord knows what else
Doesn't include my sister.

I'm sitting beneath the stars
(Not really but
For the sake of the poem)
I'm sitting beneath the stars,
Friend on my right,
Family on my left,
Watching gunpower
And fire collide
In a whirling torrent of
Colored passion.

This, ladies and gents,
Is what our nation has fought for:
Launching dangerous stuff into the sky
Surrounded by those you love
As music far too loud
Plays through it all.

Happy Independance Day.

Shakespeare on the Green

Hot summer nights,
Under the sky,
The stars,
Practiced voices lending magic
To an old stage,
And old text.

The Bard resides
In that little park
For three all too short weeks
As thousands gather
To hear his words,
Paying only with their time
For such lengthy joys.

She opened her eyes
And looked at the dull ceiling,
Praying to see sky.

One dying voice can
Drown out the words of a man
Who's never been lost.

Five for three to one.
Dreams come and go so quickly.
One day you'll lose them.

How quickly a kiss grows cold,
Held alight only
By the fragile flicker of memory
In a waning time.

Rekindle the fire again
And let it burn.
But not, I pray you,
To where the flames consume.

Come sun.
Come rain.
Beat down on this skin of mine.
It can take it.
I know because I can.

I will not be beaten.
I will remain.
And I will dance,
Thrive in your glories
And strife.

In the common man's tongue:
"Come at me, Brah!"

8th grade Pastiche

I'm a nobody; Who are you?
Are you a nobody too?
Oh, I'm alone. Please don't tell.
I'm sad enough you know.

8th grade poem

A heart.
A dream.
A love.
Who tells the truth?
Dare I dream again?

The curse of the silent
Is to watch our dreams break.
But the curse of the loud
Is to see others cry.

The blessing of the silent
Is to hear and know everything.
The blessing of the loud
Is to make their dreams true.

To be silent,
To be loud-
Leave me be.
Let me mourn my loss.

Midnight Villanelle

Wasting time but happy to,
As the screen flickers ever bright,
If only for a glimpse of you.

I've been up an hour or two,
Writing things that are small and trite .
I'm wasting time but happy to.

As these poems from my pen do spew
I'm passing through this time called night,
Looking for a glimpse of you.

When I started I think I knew
That such a plan could not go right.
I'm wasting time but happy to.

There's elation in my heart to view
The online icon blink to light.
It's my only glimpse of you.

The moments then of joy are few
As your icon turns back to white.
I'm wasting time but happy, too.
I've had my little glimpse of you.

The Intensity Villanelle

Fill your soul with intensity.
In the end, it's the only choice
Freeing you from density.

In dancing you have propensity,
Thus in music please rejoice.
Fill your soul with intensity.

Live in peace and serenity
And conduct yourself with poise.
You won't be trapped by density.

Improve yourselves steadily:
In progress you'll find joys.
Fill your soul with intensity.

Make this group your identity.
For this family make some noise
And you won't be trapped by density.

You'll one day reach Infinity,
So now listen to my voice:
Fill your soul with Intensity
That you won't be trapped by density.

The Infinity Villanelle

Divided we are many,
But when we unite as one,
Together, we're Infinity.

We can ne'er be an entity
When from obstacles we run.
Divided we are many.

But we join with solemnity
And strive 'til work is done
Together. We're Infinity.

Achieved goals know just brevity
If cooperation we shun.
Divided we are many.

This show choir has known victory
And boy, it sure is fun.
Together we're Infinity.

When we realized our affinity,
Then out glories have begun.
Divided we are many;
Together, we're Infinity.

The Illumination Villanelle

Illuminate the darkness.
Brightly shine your heart of gold
So the night will ne'er be starless.

Those without dreams are hopeless
And all too quickly grow old.
Illuminate their darkness.

There are those that are heartless
And their souls turned stone cold,
Making the night ever starless.

You must hold onto happieness.
In the game of life, never fold.
Illuminate the darkness.

All will fade, so will sadness.
Be bold. To your friends, you must hold
And the night will ne'er be starless.

As women's groups go, you're peerless.
And your glories are yet untold.
Illuminate the darkness
So the night will ne'er be starless.

Bam!
Slipped that last poem in
Just in time
To qualify as yesterday's writing.
Because today is today
And yesterday is never tomorrow.

Wasting time
But happy to
If only for
A glimpse of you

Timeless

Wait for me

What is timeless?
And who could be?
It's a strange way to be,
Timeless.

Forever slipping through eons.
Open to interpretation,
Running through the ages.

Maybe I could write an
Eternal something.

Though time flies

The clock marches on.
Hours pass
Over quiet gatherings
Unique and fervid,
Getting stronger as these works
Have grown.

These writings,
Images in the mind,
Matter to us
Earthly creatures.

Fleeting though we are,
Longevity still graces us,
Immortality eludes us,
Eternity beckons us.
Selah.

The cold gathers
In corners on the floor
As we huddle into ourselves
To hold in meager warmth
If only for the one hour.
Soon.
Soon the pool will close
And we can go home.

Nothing Changes

Nothing ever changes.
Not really.
The senior in high school
Is waiting in the car for her younger sister
Just as she did when in middle school.
She still mows the lawn
For her dad,
Free of charge.
Because nothing changes,
Not really.

High school
Is long over.
Or shortly?
Time is sckewed
And I'm standing on
Some strange teeter-totter
Between senior
And gradutated.

When will the room
Stop spinning?

I am leaving my mark here,
So that it might
Fade away.

That is,
After all,
The nature of such things.

Awfully romantic,
Isn't it?

Willow Tree

There's rips
And there's tears
We patch 'em up
Sew 'em up
Until a colorful kalediscope
Gathers over out shoulders
For there's joy in breaking
It's called mending
Though change
And it's pull
And push
Hurts as the pot grows
To hold more water
And to be honest
I can't remember
Ever seeing you cry.

Happiness

Happiness crept up on me.
He fluttered
And flew
And landed nearby,
Too far touch
But close enough to enjoy.

How precious
And wonderful those moments were
When happiness was so close.

But I came too near,
I moved to suddenly.

And the butterfly
Darted away.

Dreams

Dreams,
Sweet imagination.
What Morpheus gives
Hypnos keeps.
So we return
To the thief in the night
And his spell-casting son
For who can stray
From what we cannot escape?

May has begun.
It's spring.
I love green and blue
And these colors
Bloom
This season.
The clouds are glorious.

It's like turning
The page of a book.
You can go back,
I suppose,
But it's never the same
And never new again.
Welcome to life

I have accepted
My flaws but that doesn't mean
That they don't still hurt.

Edith is a Pretty Girl

Edith is a pretty girl
But trust is not her friend.
Edith is a married girl
And trust will be her end.

A pillar of salt
Isn't worth assault
But's as pretty as her head.
In the Underworlds
She'll lose her curls
And forever end up dead.

Ormond, her beau,
Is a musical soul
With two daughters but, oh,
The King and Queen
They will glean
Everything Ormond knows.

Edith is a pretty girl
But trust is not her friend.
Edith is a married girl
And trust will be her end.

To My Friend

I.
Kelvin,
Est-ce que
Mes mots dans le français
Aggravent toi ?

Ce m'amuse
Parce que tu ne comprends pas !

Kelvin, ami,
Tu es mince.
Mais fort.
Et un bon danseur.

Bwahaha.

Comprends ça ?

II.
Pardons-moi.
Je blague
Et m'amuse à
Ton prix.

Tu as un visage
Expressif.
Utiles tes talents pour le bon
Et pas le mal.

Qui suis-je plaisante?
Tu fais
Lequel tu veux
Si oui ou non tu es permis.

Ne laisses personne tu arrêter.
Écoutes-moi?
Écoutes au bruit
De mon stylo.

Ou préfères-tu que
Je continue à se moquer de toi ?

III.
Tes cheveux.
Ces sont pas blond
Mais pas brun.
Choisis ton camp,
Hufflepuff.

IV.
Je ne peux pas
Se moquer ton personnalité.
Partie parce que
Je ne connais pas les mots,
Et aussi parce que
Je n'ai pas les mots.

Libre?

The last rehearsal
Of my last show choir show
Is finshed.

The last time I'll set up risers,
Kick a friend,
And the burst into "O Fortuna"
With 39 other people
And choreography to boot.

I'm stepping across
A threshold.

I feel liberated.

But sad.
Because these moments
Have slipped through my fingers.
I can never hold them again.
They will never be re-created.
I knew as they happened
I loved the moments.

Now how much
Is sinking in.

Il Pleut

Il pleut.
Il pleut plus belle
Que la dernière fois.
Cette fois,
J'ai un cœur heureux.

Il pleut rapide.
Il pleut fort
Comme un cœur.
Bien pour le sante
De tète

Les fleurs deviennent.
Je les attende
Avec un sourire
Parce que,
Si je n'ai pas mal,
Je danse
Dans le pleut.
Le pleut a le promis
D'amusant et demain.

I'd forgotten
How I like to perform.
How in dancing
I cease to be
And it's all one big play
Where the audience doesn't know me
Can't know me.

I'd forgotten
How dancing makes me forget.
The worries are gone
And will not rush back
In after I am done.
They will linger on the edges
Of perception banished by exhilaration.

I'd forgotten
Confidence.
But I have found it again.

I can't write hope yet.
However, tomorrow when
The sun starts to shine...

It's Audition Season

I just want to shut down.
I want to sink into despair.
Kittens,
Chocolate,
What are these compared
To the sorrow coursing in my veins?

(And I know they matter.
In my arms
They dispel darkness.
But the battlefield that is
My mind cannot be won
So easily.)

For he doesn't care.
Or doesn't seem to.
And it drives me crazy.

Because for three years,
I've given him my hair,
My feet,
My voice,
My loyalty.

And now,
As I stand on the cusp
Of graduation
He asks for more from me
But not by name.
I am passed over.
But unlike for the Israelites,
This passover kills me.

But to hell with it.
I don't even care for his subject anymore.
He's no leader
And half a teacher.
I'm learning from his mistakes
Not his example.

I'll come back swinging.
And I pray to God
To stand before him
With my work defeating his
And tell him he gave me dance.
But only the Lord will know
He took away song.

I cannot begin
To communicate my thankfulness
For the life I live.

It is not perfect.
But I do not starve.
I do not freeze.

And even more than that,
There is Easter
And thus there is joy.

For I am saved
By the never ending power
And grace of the Lord of all.

A heart pounding,
Straining to get away
With such effort
I can see it in my mind's eye,
Held back from God
Only by the cage of ribs,
Sinew and muscle
And life

How music lifts us,
How words thread into the soul
And buoys up the heart
Tying us close to le Dieu.

As the moon shines
In harvest,
Round and golden,
And Mars glimmers bright,
Good Friday ends.

Full Moon

"It's only a paper moon"
Is easy to disbelieve.
"It's a Barnum & Bailey world."
Oh why do you listen to these?
"There's no decency to man."
Well that's difficult to see.
But the truth I believe in most
Is where you're in love with me.

Dreams Don't Turn to Dust

Dreams don't turn to dust
I agree.
They turn to wounds,
Maybe.
They turn to reality,
Happily.

I'll Be Sorry Later

I'll be sorry later.
I know I will.
Words are a double-edged sword
And every blow I land
Hits me as well.

But crying and worry do not
Foster common sense.

I am even a bit sorry now
And I won't respond
Because God's knocking
And reminding me
That biting words bite back.

So I won't respond for awhile.
This wound-up spring
Set taunt last night
Will have to wait
As I retreat to Psalms.

A feline is a fuzzy thing,
So tender and so small.
But you'll find he's clever and
Will one day rule us all.

[http://ayame-kenoshi.deviantart.com/journal/A-Message-From-Your-Feline-Overlords-293163230]

Every day
I'm learning
That I
Am less
And less
Worthy.

The God on High
Who made me
Is too perfect
For my mortal mind
To comprehend.

But not to accept.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder
For there will be one that's even longer.
And what kind of friend could I claim to be
If all that I asked was always for me?

Pacific Ocean, 1945

All's fair
In love and war.
Break the wound.
Rent the scar.

Just war,
Holy battle,
What does it matter
If we lose the cattle?

Bomb, bleed,
And burn so fast.
How they pay
To make it last.

An hour, a day,
Oh how we fall
Answering, of course,
To duty's call.

Dulce et
Ducorum est
Pro patria mori
So give your best.

A tear in the universe.
A great big tear.

Hanging from her face
Like a blue and tragic prism
The bears all the sorrows
Imaginable.

How to Sign "Poem"

I found the lost poem!

Take your right hand.
Place it over your heart.

Now clench it
And in one swift motion,
Toss your hand to the right,
Letting your hand unfurl.

It literally means:
"To throw the heart"

But the standard meaning
Is "Poem."

So every time
You read these scattered letters
You're catching a heart.

Maybe you should listen.

There was a poem
On the t-t-tip
Of my tongue.

But now,
It's gone.

au revoir

A Rock

"Emotional range of a rock."
You said so yourself.
But please humor
My heart-born ideas
Once in a while.

Aren't you lucky.
There's so much pain
That you get to
Skip out on.

So much irrationality
Is inaccessible to you.

I've seen you smile.
I've seen you frown.
Eyebrows furrowing
And lips twisting
Communicate annoyance.

But I've never seen you laugh.
I've never seen you cry.

As I lick my old and festering wounds
And recent scratches you laid,
I pity you.

I Sat on the Porch

I sat on the porch
And cried three tears
Because the back fence
Was maybe ten steps away.

And I remember an old yard
That took
A journey over mountains
Across lava
Through a jungle
And to battle with a dragon

Before I reached even sight
Of the fence,
Over which I quickly jumped
And was on to the next adventure.

A Poem or a Hallelujah

How do you now see the mask
When you've been allowed behind the facade?
How do you re-learn
Not to view pain?

And then you doubt your eyes,
Because you know yourself.
You know your crazed mind.

You are a poet.
You comprehend that masks
Aren't always masks.

So to see a smile,
On the face that five minutes previous
Was pondering the complexities and
Hypocrisies
Of a smile, draws concern.

The thoughts whirl
And lead to the only
Possible conclusions:
A poem or a hallelujah.

Which do you prefer?

For the past cannot be factored
Into this equation,
Only the opinion of your soul.
Because poems,
Hallelujahs,
Will accept you
With all the cracks and tears
You can gather

Because the breaks
Make their utterance
That much sweeter

Tears

I said it was
Like one of those nicks
Where it might bleed
At first
But after a few quick licks
And a few dramatic tears
It's alright.

I lied though.

It was more like
The tear of a dress
Over which we sob
We wail
But quickly dry our tears,
Laying the dress aside
To rarely touch again.

Because what if,
While trying to fix it,
You tear it more?

Let the tiredness
Fall away.

Let the aches
Subside.

I want to rest.
Sleep needs to come
But it eludes
As the pain dances
Across the body.

Rain Storms

Pitter-patter,
On the roof,
Trickling down
Into my heart.

Water, water
Everywhere
But not a drop
To drink.

And do I care?
No,
But if there should be
A day where you and I
Dance in the downpour,
I think I shall find
A time when I care even less.

Tomorrow

Just you wait.
I am so excited.
And for Saturday as well.

Allons-y
My dearie,
It's on to another adventure

Asked Me to Prom

So,
You asked me to prom
With chocolate cake.

Yum.

Yes of course.
If you asked,
I'd go with you
To the ends of the earth.
You the brains,
I'm the face of the operation,
And together
We can show this puny planet
What a REAL dictatorshi-

I mean,
I love the cake.
Of course I'll go to prom
With you!

Burn

I just want to burn
Something.
Anything.
To see it cackle
And spark.
I'm no pyromaniac
But I am troubled.

Ashes in the air
Aren't ashes in my hair.

I just want
To set something on
Fire.

Because shrapnel
Makes a ticking bomb
Go BOOM.

You worry me,
You do.
So be wise
Don't compromise
Your health
For another's happiness.

Even for mine.

The Road to Choreography

It's paved with awkward
Sights, the road to choreography.
And it's so funny

Buffalo Sauce

My dad's a master
In the kitchen.
Butterflied chicken,
Covered in bread crumbs
And buffalo sauce.

So much goodness,
I came up with
The perfect measurement
Of how spicy I like my food:

"I want my taste buds screaming.
Half fan-girl screams,
The other half
'Ah! an axe-murderer!'"

Laughter

Pour laughter
Out of your soul.
Let it tumble
And run
Like the swiftest river
Into the lives of others.

Doors

The doors of the heart
Must be unlocked carefully.
Must be unlocked slowly.

Do not rush.
They stumble
That run fast.

Too young,
Too young,
Help me my dear
For I'm afraid.
I feel so old
And yet so young.

Don't tie me too close
Too soon.
(Even though I want
You to)

Hopes planted
That do not bloom
Tear at the soul...

Dementors

There's a dementor around my waist
Who of my soul his claws make waste.
He buries his knife 'neath my shoulder blade
And to me all these sorrows bade.

With ice and fire he infects my bones
Til I cannot discern my home.
And unsatisfied with me unsettled
Gathers upon my feet these nettles.

He lays his lies in cunning net
Treacherous doubts they do beget
A burning kiss he leaves on lips
In happy dance he cause me trip.

I find joy when he doth depart
Turning my sorrows to thrilling art.
But it cannot last when he takes his leave
For wife of dementors I always will be.

How he wins wicked victory
I know by what cunning trickery
He steals the faith from lover's eye
And turns their mind from God on High.

Parted to the Left

And I'm suffering
From fallen hero syndrome.
What was once a pretty picture
Is now a broken idol of clay.

The disappointment grows to anger
For he that demands perfection
Does not give it.
And every day I'm more confused.

What was white is now gray
And I can't find the words
Nor the courage
To try to fix the problem.

As leaders tumble
I fear the coup.

Reality's a
nice place, I am sure. But I
don't wanna live there.

200 poems

200 poems here.
200 times I've shared my thoughts.
200 times I dared to speak.
200 poems made of tiny dots.

1st Day

It's the first day.
New year.
New life.

More projects,
And hopes
And dreams.

To be young
And run the gauntlet
Of life