Category: poetry

a familiar demon; revisited

underwaterismyflyzoneLeave a comment

why does it always wear off so quickly?

all of a sudden-

so blinding, exciting, and new-

but it fades and i see your true colors.

i see every mistake you’ve ever made.

i see how i painted you and i see how you actually are.

such a sad thing,

living off the infatuation,

going into everything praying it won’t end too quickly.

but it always does.

not knowing whether it’s a genuine sentiment or the excitement of the attention.

i ignore all of your tricks;

they no longer work for me.

when i start getting bored, i start noticing how you walk a little weird,

how you have a poor vocabulary,

and how you are much cleaner than i’ll ever be.

i pick you apart.

i don’t want to,

but my brain simply won’t have otherwise.

i can’t live a white lie.

it’s discouraging, you know?

not knowing if i have the complexity to be able to get past this.

am i interested or is it just the trick my mind plays on me only to result in a painful goodbye?

(for you)

make a monster out of me,

i understand.

probably one more week until i’m completely over it.

yet again,

what’s wrong with me?

why can’t i just stay infatuated

both for me

and for you.

 

photo credit: pinterest.com

 

A While

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

It’s been a while since we’ve all been birds,

since we’ve embraced our cold grey skies,

photo credit: ak9.picdn.net

flapped our wings,

chirped a song,

scattered across the horizon,

with no care but its infinite existence.

It’s been a while since we’ve been wildflowers,

since we’ve sprouted with the spring,

mismatched our colors,

photo credit: cdn.pixabay.com

and lived within that beauty of simply living.

It’s been a while since

we’ve shot our birds

and mowed down our flowers.

It’s been a while since we’ve figured that

there’s a different way to live,

with scary grey skies and plain flowers.

It’s been a while since we’ve forgotten our ways,

our happy freedom and

our beautiful purposelessness.

It’s only now that we realize that

there’s no going back.

To a Stranger in Brooklyn Heights

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment

Dear stranger in Brooklyn Heights,

I don’t know much about you, but I can infer some things.

I think you are someone who cares about your belongings.

Like your copy of Spoon River Anthology, for example.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

I think you care about it because you stamped it twice – once inside the front cover and once inside the back.

Maybe you just didn’t want to lose it and for it to be returned to you if it ever did get lost. But, if that’s the case, how did it end up in a used bookstore in a town 3,000 miles away?

I would want to know which poems are your favorites, but it seems like you never read them. The pages are nearly perfect, despite being printed in 1962.

I wish I could ask you some questions.

How old were you when you bought it? How old are you now? Why didn’t you read it? How did it end up with me?

I don’t know who you are, but I want to say thank you. Your book that was originally sold for 95 cents is now my book that was sold to me for three dollars.

And now I have a story within a story, thanks to you.

I’m not sure if you still live in New York or if any of my assumptions about you were correct or if you’re even a person at all.

But just in case I was right, once I finish the book, I’ll send it back to you.

 

A Place Behind the Hills

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

There is a place behind the hills,

behind the deep-dark forests and rocky roads,

Photo Credit: maureenness.com

where the trees are bright and the flowers purple.

There, storms are a pleasant breeze,

and the lakes are so clear you can see all the happy fish.

There, the sun rises at 5:30 every morning

and goes to set when you’re ready.

There, there are no downsides,

except for the cows’ bellies that swing as they walk.

But, to get there, you’ll need to run.

You’ll need to hike and climb and swim,

Photo Credit: jeremybatesbooks.com

but most importantly, you’ll need to run.

There are tall monsters and mean witches

waiting for you to stop and catch your breath,

waiting to hold you by your legs and arms

and never let you go.

So don’t catch your breath, not now.

Now is not the time, but the time will come.

Now, you must run past the monsters and witches,

Photo Credit: 4.bp.blogspot.com

through the forests and along the rocky roads,

past the dark shadows that are hunting beside you.

But then, believe me,

there is a place behind the hills,

where the trees are bright and the flowers purple.

Where the only shadows will be of the lazy cows in the sunset.

my thoughts on time.

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment

I prefer not to measure time in minutes.

Maybe that’s because it scares me,
time does.

But, it’s comforting to think
that the same wet grass I
walked across today
will soon turn brittle and dry.

“The Persistence of Memory” via allthatsinteresting.com

It’s comforting to think
that, with the help of the rain,
the fields will fill up with wheat,
which will later be cut down
and turned into hundreds of bales of hay,
all lining the bottom of the hillsides
in a grid of little golden rectangles.

Then, in time, they will be shipped off
to somewhere far away from here
and the cows will return to eating
the new grass, gently swishing
their tails as they chew.

It’s comforting to think that
the world will continue to spin
and the sun will set tomorrow
and the next day,
just as it is meant to.

And I hope,
that in time,
I will see, and do, and live
just as I am meant to.

Poetry Based Off of Songs

maydaygaskarthLeave a comment

The Beautiful & Damned 

The Beautiful,

a delicate rose.

Small and light in a sea of others,

Bright and beautiful,

Photo Credit: defiantart.com

silky-smooth petals,

like a gentle caress.

The Damned.

Crimson red like its fallen petals.

Damned in the colors of rust and blood.

Tainted with thorns,

hidden in the layers of the silk petals.

Sharp and deadly,

Hidden in beauty.

Colorless (Colors – Halsey)

Side note: i wrote this poem for an english assignment where I had to write a poem using words from a song.

You’re colorful like a saturated sunrise.

Glowing with red, orange, and pink,

but like an overflowing sink.

Your colors seep

and it covers me in blue.

The same blue as you.

The blue of your pills, hands, and jeans.

Photo Credit: paintings.pinotspalette.com

The same blue as you,

but unlike the day’s blue sky

and the night’s starry light.

Your blue’s dark,

a starless night,

an empty sight.

And like a black and white book;

Your mind’s the pages,

your thoughts the ink.

And they’re grey just like your dreams.

Your body’s the pages,

tattoos the ink.

But they’re grey, just as you think.

And I rip at every edge of your masterpiece,

but you’re so devoid of color,

you’re colorless.

Love

mycountrythoughtsLeave a comment

Love always seemed fun to me.

It always enticed me and made me want to fall into it.

I was so excited when I fell in love.

But, I realized pretty early

I never really fell into love, I crashed into it.

I was reckless and lost it.

Then, I felt like I lost myself.

Without love, I was confused and miserable.

Everything seemed hopeless and dumb.

Falling again seemed like something only idiots would do,

I promised I would never fall again.

 

Then, I met you.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com

 

I don’t even know if I could call this falling.

It feels as if I’m floating up to cloud nine,

All my cares fade away when I’m around you.

It’s as if nothing else matters.

I’m no longer scared to fall, because I know your arms will always be there.

Your hands are soft and sweet and when you wrap me up in them, I feel your strength.

In your arms, I am not scared to fall.

Because I know I’m not falling,

I’m floating.

two love poems

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

It’s Inevitable, Isn’t It?

It’s inevitable, isn’t it?

The loneliness we all know

Too well to ignore.

Loneliness is a shadow

That follows the lovely moments,

The beautiful moments, the love.

We know both sides,

We know dark yields light,

But, just like that, we know love might

Be temporary just as all other things.

Temporary in the way it sings;

Temporary with its whizzing wings;

Temporary, because we know what wins.

What wins is not light, or day, or love,

Or night or dark, or loneliness.

What wins is the cycle

Of all we know,

All we love,

All we despise.

__________________________________________

Go. 

It still hurts, believe me.

You left me half a year ago,

You broke me then, you know?

I tried to hold you back,

Have you back, the way we were.

You didn’t.

You didn’t want that, you didn’t want me,

Didn’t want me in your life,

In your heart, in your camera roll, in your mind.

And see what you did?

See what I did?

I lost the mask I had put on your face all this time.

I began hating to hear your name all around,

I forgot how I ever loved you.

That’s the funny thing about love.

You never think it ends

When you’re its guest.

You think it will last forever and go on and go on and

Go.

Go, go and leave me and don’t remind me

Of what you gave me and took away,

What you promised and didn’t keep,

What you told me and meant with all your heart,

But what does that matter, if your heart has changed?

It still hurts, believe me.

Cutting you out of my memories,

Ignoring birthdays and anniversaries,

Seeing her.

But that’s the funny thing about love:

We are so willing to fall in love and fall on our hearts,

And we think it will go on and go on and

Go.

Mother, Mother

maydaygaskarthLeave a comment
Photo Credit: countryliving.com

Mother, Mother,

Please don’t frown,

Nothing’s turning upside down.

Mother, Mother,

Open your eyes and see

That love is in everything.

Mother, Mother,

Please don’t cry.

It’s not too late to give love a try.

Mother, Mother,

Don’t be mad.

For I promise, it’s our love that’ll make you glad.

Mother, Mother,

If only you could see

That our love could fix anything.

Mother, Mother,

Don’t shut the door.

We know we’re not welcome anymore.

Mother, Mother

Please don’t be angry

Because it’s your anger that makes you scary

Mother, Mother,

Put that drink away.

We really wish that you would stay.

Mother, Mother,

Please don’t die,

Because if you do, it’ll make us cry.

Mother, Mother,

Why can’t you see

That life is better than it seems.

Mother, Mother,

We love you so,

More than you will ever know,

Mother, Mother,

Please don’t push us away,

Because it’s our love that makes us stay.

we make our own waves.

faithfulomnivore1 Comment
photo credit: images.fineartamerica.com

He told me this:
“I make my own waves.

I make my own waves when
I don’t need to.
I make myself angry when I don’t need to be!
And it’s not good for me,
not good for my health.

I see you do the same thing to yourself.
I think it’s something you inherited,
like it’s genetic, maybe. And I’m sorry.

It has taken me my whole life,
fifty-some years to realize that
I am the only one who can control how I feel,
that it is me, and not other people, who changes
the way I feel.

I see you do this to yourself,
you expect people to think the same way,
and to care and to try the same way that you do.

It’s taken me my whole life
to realize that, and I still
don’t know how to fix it.

If you could learn this now,
so early on in your life,
you’ll be so much better for it.

You’ll be just fine.”

I make my own waves too, sometimes.

But the thing about waves, is that even though they can be destructive, they can also be spectacular.

So, I think that it’s okay to make waves in our lives, but we have to decide which kind they will be.