Category: poetry

25 more things to be happy about

faithfulomnivore2 Comments

A few weeks ago I compiled a list of 25 things that make me happy. I’m not in the happiest of moods currently, so I’m creating a sequel in an effort to cheer myself up.

  1. Music – the only thing that I know absolutely makes the world a better place.
  2. The sore dents I get on my fingertips after playing guitar for too long.
  3. Singing harmonies.
  4. Hugs – good, wholesome, all-encompassing hugs.
  5. Seeing my friends succeed.
  6. Having good hair days.
  7. Being proud of something.
  8. Going a week without biting my nails.
  9. Eating passion fruit.
  10. Being able to sleep in, for once.
  11. Having my driver’s permit (and the bragging rights that come with it).
  12. The times when I feel pretty.
  13. How silence isn’t uncomfortable with my closest friends.
  14. Tea tree oil.
  15. Getting buried in sand at the beach with only my head sticking out, and the sand that covers my body being carved into a mermaid.

    Image via elephantjournal.com
  16. Laughing until tears come out of my eyes.
  17. Finding the perfect tree for climbing.
  18. Climbing said tree.
  19. Being barefoot.
  20. The satisfaction of overlooking a valley after hiking all the way up it.
  21. How my nose gets red when it’s really cold out, and I can see my breath in the air.
  22. Being so hot that I can feel the sweat evaporating off of my skin.
  23. The comfort of a cool breeze in the summertime (the best feeling in the world).
  24. Grass coming back after the fire.
  25. Peeling a tangerine in a perfect spiral.

when i see you again

mariethearistocatLeave a comment

it’ll be a tuesday.

the sun will be shining, but rain clouds will be looming in the distance.

i’ll see you in line for ice cream on the boardwalk and race towards you.

you’ll turn around when i call your name and your lovely brown eyes will instantly lock with mine.

you were always so good with eye contact.

obviously my heart will skip a beat, but i’ll never let you know.

we’ll talk for hours about school, family, boys, and girls,

just like old friends.

because that’s all we were,

all we are.

maybe we’ll dip our feet into the vast, open ocean,

and it’ll send chills down our spines.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

but, maybe, it’ll start to rain,

so we’ll rush back to your car and wait for my sister to come get me.

you’ll laugh at me for still not having my license,

even though “i’m almost there!”

but, i won’t be nervous when my sister doesn’t respond to my text,

because i’ve never felt anything but safe around you.

so, we’ll talk some more and more until i check the time and realize we’ve been sitting here for hours.

finally, you decide to go outside because you just hate sitting around.

at first, i’ll let you stand out there by yourself, the rain beating down on your hair and catching in your eyelashes.

but, my speedy little heart will tell my reluctant brain to just go.

so, i’ll jump out of your car and spin around the parking lot and let the rain soak through my clothes.

then, you’ll take my hand and we’ll spin together just like out of the final scene in a rom-com.

but, my sister will eventually come.

you’ll wrap me in a towel and i’ll go home.

i’ll wash the ice cream stain off my sweater and tell my sister i had an alright time.

maybe i’ll tell my friends about you,

but i’ll probably keep our moment to ourselves.

i guess i’m just selfish like that.

tomorrow

mariethearistocatLeave a comment

oh god, i miss you.

i miss how much fun we had together the last time i saw you.

the stolen glances and the silent giggles.

i sat in bed tossing and turning because the thought of you was too much to handle.

it was too much to feel right before sleep.

how unfair of you to make me feel the way i do,

even after all this time.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

you’ll probably never see this,

but maybe some day in the future,

you’ll think of me too and you’ll search for my name and find this.

maybe when you think about us,

you’ll call me and we’ll talk for hours like we used to.

you’ll doodle our initials into a heart in the margins of your notebook

the same time i do in mine.

you’ll sketch my eyes while i daydream of yours.

and, when we see each other again, i’ll tell you how i missed you in the way i hug you.

i’ll see it in the way your gorgeous brown eyes twinkle.

maybe i can’t sleep because i’m in your dreams or on your mind too.

if so, i hope we’re both tired, but still dreaming, in the morning.

two poems

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

A dead man’s nostalgia

Don’t forget me, please.

The old treehouse and its rotten ladder,

via i.pinimg.com

Those baby pictures laying on the dusty counter,

Old drawings on the walls

from when laughter and cries would echo from them,

Dirty handprints on white doors,

The broken snow globe in the attic,

Don’t forget me please.

_______________

The knife of a good carver

Is love always this good?

With its wings of maroon silk

via i.pinimg.com

And its sweet golden arrowheads.

Like the knife of a good carver,

It’s shaping me, not cutting.

Thank you for this love,

For keeping me from plummeting,

For inhaling my sorrows

and exhaling goodness.

For carving your name into my heart.

For each look of your luminous eyes

makes me feel like a moth mistaken

for a butterfly.

No tear I am shedding over losing you

Can ever wash away your name.

 

Sonder

maydaygaskarthLeave a comment

7.6 billion people

195 countries

7.6 billion stories told from different perspectives

from different eyes

in different worlds

in different lives

Photo Credit: Twitter

one mother is crying as she carries her newborn baby in her arms

another is crying while her own mother takes her last breath on her death bed

one daughter is being walked down the aisle by her father on her wedding day

another is taking her first steps

7.6 billion people on this Earth

and every single one is experiencing life

experiencing it in a completely different way than another

one is preparing for the winter olympics

another is writing songs in the comfort of their bedroom

illuminated by the fairy lights scattered across the ceilings of their bedroom

7.6 billion people

scattered down the trafficked streets of New York City

one rushing to make the subway on time

Photo Credit: Amazon UK

another rushing to their job interview

another struggling for spare change

just to live to the next day

as people pass by

many don’t bat an eye

but occasionally

just occasionally

there’s someone who notices

someone who cares

who leaves a dollar or two

and moves on with their lives

forgetting the action a few days later

but the memory sticks to the other

some live a life of endless hardships

while others live in the comfort of their warm beds,

texting their best friends goodnight

their only worry

is the color of their prom dress

7.6 billion people

one has the whole world balancing on their shoulders

another is struggling to get a grasp with their finger tips

7.6 billion people

taking a role in several different movies

movies of life

some act as main characters in one movie

and dreaded antagonists in the other

some are mere, blurry passersby

while others are extras never truly appreciated

but make their presence known

7.6 billion people

and I am one

Photo Credit: Reformedish

standing alone in a world surrounded by people

people who are exactly like me

yet completely different at the exact same time

7.6 billion people

my whole story known to some

and others none

Cremated

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

Here’s a list of the things I lost to the Thomas Fire:

My guitar, my ukulele, my first drum sticks. My symbols of creativity, my many memories of favorite songs and being so frustrated about my definite lack of talent!

The tapestry I bought last summer at my first music festival, that for some reason smelled like lavender and blown out candles.

My stuffed animals that I’ve had for years, that (call me a child if you want) are so much more than just “things.”

All my drawings. Those hours of concentration and enthusiasm I’ve spent throughout the past years. They probably burned the fastest.

credit: @MattHjourno on twitter

The girl’s dorm lounge, where I remember making my first friendship at this school, where I’ve spent so many hours watching Riverdale, or eating Oreos during the weekends, or working on my horrible piano skills, or watching Finding Nemo for the very first time. Now it looks like none of that has ever happened and for some reason it tears me apart.

I lost my poetry books.

My first love letter.

My band posters and shirts and bracelets and guitar picks and stickers and

my favorite dress.

My window. With my perfect view.

My door key, which now I won’t need cause my door is gone too.

My friends’ rooms with their baby pictures and yearbooks and paintings and Christmas presents and their favorite pair of sandals.

It is hard to believe that this place, the home of so many people I love so dearly, is gone without warning and without mercy.

Here’s a list of what I took with me that day:

The clothes I was wearing, and my favorite necklace. A baby picture of my siblings and me (just in case). My laptop and my backpack.

But I had no idea that everything that was left back would go up in flames within a couple hours. I thought I would come back the next day to my room with my guitar and my tapestry and my window and my posters and that everything would be fine and that our biggest problem would be the final exams we were going to have to take the next week. I wish I would’ve taken more, I wish I could’ve taken the entire dorm.

credit: ovs.org

But here’s another thing that all of OVS brought.

We brought our strength and our community and care and love amongst us. We didn’t forget our incredible OVS spirit, and to be honest I don’t think we would ever be able to forget that. 

 

 

glass cage

mariethearistocatLeave a comment

Off the stem the brittle petals fall,

Life is a dying flower,

Trapped inside a glass case.

Passersby see the light, but

Don’t stay for the brown,

Vile stench that comes with darkness.

When the moon rises,

The petals wilt,

But they don’t

Fall,

Just yet.

When the sun rises,

It brightens the ground,

The earth,

That was once home

To the glass-encased

Flower.

Photo Credit: giphy.com

Sparkling eyes see

The red passion

Laced within the leaves,

The sweet water rolling

In delicious beads.

They see the rich beauty

That stems behind the glass.

They see the butterfly,

Flapping its symmetrical wings,

Landing gracefully to feed.

They don’t,

However,

See the cocoon,

Broken and

Left to die because

Something beautiful could no longer

Stay ugly.

The owner forgets

To lift the glass,

And finds a wilting

Shell of a beautiful creature.

Entombed by the warm,

Glowing morning light,

The dead petals lay.

The beautiful day

Overshadows

The cold death of night.

But not to worry,

The petals will

Lift off the ground.

They will grow into

a new flower.

Passersby don’t remember

The red being that bright

The last time.

They don’t see the death.

The owner discards of

The brown petals;

The trash its new home.

Winter still comes,

Though.

The new flower still wilts,

Though.

The case still kills,

Though.

The sweet water

Ceases

To roll,

Though.

The second flower

Is but

A beautiful picture

Taken before destruction.

We all know that

The red, hot passion

Still dies with the last petal,

Though.

Dark Lights

maydaygaskarthLeave a comment

There once used to be so much brightness in my life

So much light

The kind of light that shows itself through the floaty leaves flowing in the autumn breeze

The sunlight that glistens against the piercing blue, salty ocean on a summer day

The light that’d peek through my bedroom window followed by the harmonies of birds chirping to wake me up on a spring morning

But light is just a false perception of brightness the world wants you to imagine

There’s so much darker light

The neon pink and blue luminescent lights brightening up a pitch black dance floor

Which eventually turn hazy to the human eye when one too many drinks have been consumed

The artificial light radiating off my desktop lamp

Keeping me up at inhumane hours of the night

The foggy bright city lights

Photo Credit: walldevil.com

Dimmed by pollution

But one night as I was on a journey from one blurred street light to another

Across the horizon, a car sped out of the tunnel right into my point of vision

And just as my vision was blinded by a piercing yellow light

The rest of the world faded black.

Heavydirtysoul

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

I can’t believe you’re still here.

I thought I chased you away

that day when everything went black and blue,

that day when the soulless bloodhounds killed for me,

crawling around my heels,

with your blood dripping from their mouths and eyes.

Turns out it was mine.

Turns out all this time I’ve been shooting at a mirror.

Turns out you’re still here

credit: @twentyonepilots on instagram

in my basement

tying ropes to my ceiling

placing spikes in my sheets

pouring paint over all my books.

But you can tie your nooses and splatter blood,

but I will never

ever

let you stay.

I will smoke you out of the basement,

I will chase you out of my home

I will let out the dogs

and they will race you

until your breath feels like rattling saws

they will race you to the cliff

where you will fall for the very last time.

 

(mood inspired by heavydirtysoul by Twenty One Pilots)

Winter sunsets

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment

Winter sunsets are always the brightest.
The days are shorter, the nights are darker.

It’s November,
and even though it’s cold enough to see your breath in the air
we still eat dinner in the backyard.

Photo Credit: Reddit.com User: finnishlad

It’s cold, but who needs a fire in the living room
when there’s already one in the sky?

The sky is burning,
plumes of smoke in pink, purple, orange.
Colors brighter than you knew existed.

They fade into view, like spilled ink slowly spreading across a page.
They stay to entertain the mountains, dancing among the clouds.
They decide it’s time to leave, sinking below the horizon.

Once spectacular, then gone.
But don’t worry; an encore tomorrow.

We watch the clouds burn for as long as they will.

Dad thanks Mother Nature.
Mom says it’s the moments like these when she knows God is real.
I think it’s the moments like these, the simple things,
that make it all okay for a while.