Friday, November 30, 2012

Bitch Face

Short poems can only do so much,
can only say so much.

I am traditional in the sense that I think poems
should be short
and stay in short phrases.

But it seems that I need to shake that opinion off.
Instead I should allow creativity to wake up-

It's held under guard and lock and key.
For with creativity comes the emotions I've hidden from all.

Emotions that harbor sadness and loneliness and fear and sorrow.
All locked far away in the deepest part of myself.

These emotions cause disturbances-
the brain is forgetting things and the mind is wandering into
thoughts full of quick sand.

It is like I am standing at the edge of a sink hole
and I can't move as I'm being pulled into the netherworld.

Am I supposed to feel like this?
When I am achieving my goals and dreams.

I feel empty- I blame the hallmark channel
with all their little movies about how people shouldn't be alone.


How do I stop being alone?
When I don my bitch face without realizing it.

Him

Not about HIM
but about him.

The one I wish I dreamed about.

The one I wish was by my side.

The one I wish I could talk to daily.

The one I wish would wipe my tears away.

He who was created by HIM
to be my soulmate;
the other half of me.


Motifs

Say what you want
but I need to breathe.

To explain away my frustration
or lack there of.

Motifs echo in my works-
hopelessness, dreams, fears, worries, sadness
and there's more.

I shall not traverse on those right now

Although,

I have a black cat;

in another time I would have been staked
as a witch for it.

Intolerance for those who wish
to be more than the status quo.

That intolerance still lurks in the shadows
and I feel it drain me bit by bit.

Short Poem

Poetry

Is in the rhythmic
staccato of hoof beats
caressing the ground.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Closed Eyes & Empty Thoughts

Night, Mare is different than
Nightmare.

Echoes of those nightmares
erase the pleasure of the day.

Images of bloody snow-

A bone rope for a skull bucket
that I pull up from a well-
shakes me.

There is no explanation for
the exhaustion I feel
after those images haunt me
even while my eyes are wide open.

I cannot escape what my brain creates;
Fear and worry leech
my hopes away.

I wish I could say I dream
but I do not dream.
I traverse nightmares
while I sleep.

Disturbing thoughts and empty
wishes build the worlds I walk in.

Sleep; the enemy.

First Draft. Haven't written much lately

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Scattered

Bits and Pieces

are all I can string together

Not paragraphs

but fragments

that dance along

in my thoughts

Teasing

and

Hiding

despite my feverish

searching.

Friday, August 3, 2012

Attempt 3

Loss.
It wraps around my heart
and around my lungs.

I can barely breathe
as I try to live life.

How it must have hurt him
to take those few last breaths

To have so many faces stare at him
and gawk as he lay there

wasting away.

Stay strong.
I have to to stay strong
because falling apart
won't bring him back.

I wish my tears would turn back time.

I wish I had cherished the time
I had with him.

Instead I saw him as the stop-guard
that prevented me from living my dreams.

 

Attempt 2

Home.
I'd finally made it home.
It wasn't what I remembered.

I walked into my mom's house
and it smelled like death.

My brother's old room
turned into a deathbed.

There lay the skeleton
who'd fixed my car
and given me exasperated looks
when I'd concocted up some plan
that he'd have to pay for.

He seemed to fold in on himself
when he saw me.

He had waited,
He had held on,

until I'd had my moment on stage;
until he saw me home one last time.

Three days later he was in the hospital.
Two weeks after I graduated he was gone.

Attempt 1

Gone.
Two months and change.
On a white hospital bed-
Laid the skeletal ghost
of the man who had
become my father.

No sobbing, just the edges of tears;
scratching around my eyes.
I said "I'll see you soon"
then bolted before he could say
"I love you."

I wish I had stayed by his side,
I wish I could have braved those wild eyes
that took forever to find my face.

I want to hear him say

"I love you, sweetheart"
One more time.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Packing

There are piles of life around me
Debris of the year gone by-

Things that need to be sorted & tossed
because life gets too full of clutter.

By packing I am saying good-bye
I do not know if I'm ready.

Tic-Toc of the imaginary clock
the hours are draining by-

I should be good
I should prepare

Alas, I do not.


Wym

Today I got something
that I wasn't expecting-
A booklet of poems
written by fellow students

I've never heard of them
nor have I heard of wym,

I do not know why they gave me
a booklet as I do not partake
in fellow-shipping with fellow writers

Intrigued and frustrated
as I stare at the poems
wondering

-how did they know to give me this?
-who is behind these poems?
-why are they anonymous?

May-hap, my poetry professor gave each of his students a booklet.

Ghost Town

Whistler in the distance,
A white tumbleweed drifts by-

The landscape is deserted,
Puffs of dust hang in the air-

As the last of the caravan leaves
just a skeleton crew left.

The festivities muted by rain
that doesn't slake my parched throat.

Salty on my cheeks
I wipe away the reminisce
of years gone by.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Either/Or

Pain
or
Emptiness

Real
or
Imagined

Trust
or
Betrayal

Hope
or
Despair

Dream
or
Nightmare


Leo (revised)





Majestic in everything-
A warrior of the savannah-
A hunter of the old ways.

On nimble feet 
he dodges an attack
as those in the shadows watch
in reverence. 

A man of the old code
with a single focus-
success out on the playing field.

He is loyal to his cause; 
chases the championship ring-
That forever elusive prey.


Take The Bull (revised)


Should have stayed in the ball park-
You tried to kill two birds with one stone.
 Opened mouth and inserted foot.

Killed a good thing.

Pony up, and
Take the Bull
by the horns.

Don't rely on using your trump card-
because Success is 99% perspiration

Yester-year (revised)


We’ve reached the point
When I say good-bye
To the past and all its promises.

I step away
Not looking back.

It’s a long journey in front of me-
My only company-
rose colored memories.

I left you with
dreams of what will never be.

Friday, May 4, 2012

The Edge

The drop of water that broke the dam.

The ounce of pressure that shattered the tower.

The scrape that rubbed the skin raw.

The shot that sent blood cascading to the ground.

The remark that cannibalized humanity's sanity.

 The shift of gravel that started the rock slide.

The misstep that sent me to my death.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Only in My Dreams- Take 3


I dream of you 
but I've never met you.

You-
The proverbial "you"
I refer to when talking about
my soul-mate.

I know you because of that
lingering sense of you.

I write about you,
I want you to be real.

The-
I see you with my own eyes;
I feel your heartbeat against my cheek
kind of real.

I met you whilst dreaming.

Because you are, only, the man of my dreams.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Note To Self

When handing in a paper
Make sure the first line is stellar
else, you will lose your audience
before you have made your case.

If you fail to check your words
Ridicule will follow
and you'll deserve it
for you are the fool.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Blood Red Horizon

Hush, now, there is nothing to fear,
that sound you hear, is nothing darling.
Just the wailing of the wind in the trees.
Close your eyes, there is no need to watch
as the sun sets on a blood red horizon.

That liquid on the ground is just water.
I'll protect you from those monsters
that haunt your nightmares without fail.

Those are just white branches on the ground
here, I'll carry you since the water runs so thick.
It's just your imagination, those aren't eyes
decorating the flesh covered trees.
Hush now, I told you it's nothing.

Why don't you trust me?
I promised you that you'll be safe.

Trust me. I'm keeping you safe.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Snippets from Kathleen Graber


 "I want to whisper into his ear
something that feels like knowledge:
                                                                   Once upon a time, there was nothing
& one day, there will be nothing again. This is the faraway place
 
to which his tiny weight calls me. If he could understand the words. I think,
he would know what I mean, having only just sprung himself
                                                                                                               from that fine sea."
-Dead Man by Kathleen Graber

"We are, instead, our own vatic visions, bumbling prophets. Our sense of ourselves
as invented as film." 
-Dead Man by Kathleen Graber

"In that book, a novel
by Emily Brontë, the land is violent & unjust & we are violent
& unjust upon it. Even worse, our greatest passions
change nothing at all. "
-The Synthetic A Priori By Kathleen Graber

"Tell yourself
it’s simple: this is where it’s been heading all along. Tell yourself
something you have no faith in has already begun to occur."
-The Synthetic A Priori by Kathleen Graber

Monday, April 9, 2012

Knowledge's Chasm

The funny thing about taking a break is that you lose all of what
you worked so hard to retain.
The excitement of returning and proving to everyone that you still remember
is lost when you sit in front of a screen and
realize you can't put two and two together again.

There's a cliff that you are standing on but no bridge to the other side-
you can see where you need to be but alas, it is an impossible goal.
So you go back into the forest and gather up vines and the like.
Feverishly you twine them together and at last it seems long enough-
You throw the rope out into the chasm but it falls down and slams into
the cliff face you are standing on.

When did learning become such an impossibility?
I thrived on learning and expanding my knowledge
but now I am uncertain as to what to do and all of my assignments
are looming behind me, breathing hot, moist air down my neck.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Carnival Ride

The first one was no good at all-
He was, and is, just a selfish boy bent on his pleasures.
Half of my genes come from him as does the darker side of my personality.
I do not call him father but the name "dad" is an unspeakable word.
Memories of him are worn thin by years away from his lying tongue.

The second one was better than none-
Unfortunely, he was plagued by life's past miseries.
Although I wish he is the one I share my genes with he is not; 
at times he is a stranger.

Rob, is what father is- he encouraged my dreams
and provided a safe haven for my formative years.
He is a man brought down by life's crippling blows.
A skeleton walking in dry, haggard skin.  

Tragedy struck twice and threatens to strike again.
A family divided, as lies are whispered and the truth refuses to be said.

"Oh, it's easy to fix it" those on the outside whisper to me.
"Oh, your life isn't so bad; look, your base needs are met; be happy."
Judging is easy when you are on the outside looking in.

Other figures have entered and exited. 
Brief examples of what life could be like;
except that those figures never stayed.
I was never adopted into those other families-
just an onlooker, wishing for that reality to be mine.

Instead it's a merry-go-round of fathers
An old carnival ride that's over before it started.



Evasion of Wit

Determined to write a beautiful piece.
Ballpoint in hand, I paused for thrice.
Behold, inspired moment took too long
Now, there is only the ghost of a song.

It haunts me each moment I sleep. 
Oh, I cannot seem to flee from it,
 Desperately I search for a way to keep
those dancing, twirling sprites that flit

In a world full of yesteryear's dreams.
I lay down my pen- it is all for naught
 My whimsical thoughts forever caught
In a celestial web of the moon's beams.

In the dancing night's haughty laughter
Alone, as I have forgot what I'm after.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Bed

You hold me softly as I dream;
Always comfort when I worry.
Each day I long to return to you
for then I'll be safe once again.

Blankets and pillows are your friends
as you wait for me to crawl between
the sheets and I drift into another land
I smile as you hold me close.

Window

Black frame with smudged pane.
Holding an ever moving image.
Colors both bright and dull-
that shift as time goes on.

A gatekeeper to the unknown-
I'm always on one side or the other.
Easily smashed if I wanted to escape
Although then you'd be no more.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Dismissal

Time here has lasted long enough;
Lies they tell are so sweet
In one ear and out the other.
"We understand, we care about you..."
they murmur demurely.

I doubt that;
when I fell; when I struggled-
they feigned ignorance
while forcing me
to be another robot.

Pain consumes me &
I am dismissed, cast aside-
Like a worn out toy
who has lost her purpose;
-a defective drone.

What did I expect?
That they'd actually care-
I am dismissing them
as they dismissed my pain;
I don't need them in my life.

(Updated 5/5/2012)

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Yester-year

Three, two, one.
That's what I'm waiting for.
The moment when the countdown is over
and I say good-bye to what I've known.

To step away from this point
and look back at what my life once was
with rose colored memories
of better times.

When there wasn't the need to plan
and hope for the best.
When I could be free to dream about
all I might be.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Take the Bull

Should have stayed in the ball park,
You tried to kill two birds with one stone.
You opened mouth and inserted foot.

Killed a good thing.
Pony up and take the bull
by the horns.

Don't forget to hit the ground running
or you'll end up water-logged.
Don't rely on using your trump card-
because Success is 99% perspiration.

formerly Cliches-2 Choices Best Left Alone

Farewell of the Heart

The blind leading the blind-
one, two, three, four.
Head over heels in love-
five, six, seven, eight.

All part of God's plan-
nine, ten, eleven, twelve.
Love is surely blind-
thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

You dig yourself a hole-
seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty
Absence makes the heart grow fonder
one, two, three, four


Saturday, March 10, 2012

Glass House

It is easy to look in and see what needs to be changed.
It is easy to take a stone and throw it at the wall.

But not when you are the one in the glass house-
watching your life shatter a bit more
 with each stone thrown.

There is no place to hide when your life is in glass,
all one can do is hope that no one is looking.

For glass houses make horrible homes
and yet we all want to live in them;
to live a transparent lifestyle- like the celebrities.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Safety-2

It is not an imagined thing
or a fabled feeling.

It is real- warm and inviting,
 A fire on a cold winter's night.

His laughter infects me
scrubbing away anger.

His ever present smile
 washes away my fears.

Our hands clasp,
his and mine.

My cold heart melts
as his warmth
trickles towards my heart. 

This is a living, breathing truth-
that holds my dreams
in the strong beating of his heart.

Safety

In his arms the world fades;
fears dissipate as I breathe in his scent.

Strong arms around me hold in the happiness
that had once been ripped from me.

The storms of life quiet
while I listen to his laughing;
 with my head on his shoulder
I breathe easier.

His chin atop my hair 
eases the tension in my muscles.

Worry is a half forgotten memory
When his arms encircle me.

Then he is gone.
It is so cold, so very cold-
As the world rushes back 
and slams me to the ground.

Death's Song

A poem for Merciful Darkness


Life only hurts when you're breathing.
The pain will wash away in a moment-
Time is coming to a close;
Soon you will feeling nothing.

Emptiness is bliss
As fear slithers away from it.

For you won't hurt much longer;
Death will solve all of your problems.

So close your eyes and drift in the abyss.
Let my voice take you from here.
You are not alone in your quest-
Death will take away your pain.

The bell tolls for you,
Breathe out one last time.
The pain will disappear,
Once you let go of living.

Dew Drops & Moonlight

Silence in the dead of night-
Except for the echoes of laughter
in the distance.

The trees are bare of their buds.
Dark limbs silhouetted in moonlight.

The wind blows
and cool air bathes my face
as my footsteps slow their pace.

The night is an old friend-

I'd thought I'd lost.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Bellows

A call resounding-
The mountains echo the battle-cry
that loses it's strength as it goes
down the valley.

A bell tolls one note-
Men gather up arms
and report to the call,
For war has come.

Ladies kiss their men good-bye.
Tears drift to the dusty ground.
"Farewell, hurry home!"
A note rings once more.

Family is forgotten on the field.
It is time to kill for freedom,
To be the last one standing-
To rule the lands forgotten.


Friday, March 2, 2012

Epigraphs (originals written by me)

"To believe in something without doubt is the ultimate foolishness."
- Book of Common Philosophy (found in the world of "Rule Breaker")

"We all believe we're worth something, but are we really worth anything?"
- Lila in Merciful Darkness

"To live without hope is to live without life."
- Ancient saying found in the old pueblos near the Great Chasm (A Dark Hope)

"Love the journey to love."
- one friend to another circa. 2008


"To be remembered is to have lived life."
- (I believe this is an original)

"Walk smartly; not softly- for you should not fear the world"
-Trakehn saying


"Fear slithers away as Death comes to solve your problems."
-A saying of The Dead

"Truth often learns to lie."
-Mirasle in A Dark Hope


Silence in the classroom is the moment before a dentist pulls out a tooth.

Only In My Dreams (revised)

You-
as in the proverbial "you"
everyone talks about when they day dream
of their soul-mate.

That feeling I have of-
I met you whilst dreaming.

I dream of you 
but I've never met you.
I know you because of that
lingering sense of you.

I write about you
because I want you to be real.

The-
I can see you with my own two eyes;
I can feel your heartbeat against my cheek
kind of real.

You don't exist though;
because you are the man of my dreams.

My dreams are the only place
where we can be together.

Valentine Revised

Her wise, dark eyes watch me
as I take her scent in.

A creature of dreams-
Running wild and free.

Dream come true-
With a long, black mane and tail.

Love unspoken 
as she falls asleep in cross ties.

Big, bay mare
with a star on her forehead.

A southern belle 
of the horse world.

Her and I
two peas in a pod.

She loves me
as much as 
I love her.

Love Song (revised)

Write me a love song 
and I will be yours
(or will I?)

My heart has its price-
just one little song
(just one?)

Your voice is the tune
for which my heart beats.
(at least, I think it is)

A few words is all you need
to claim me as your beloved.
(do words mean anything?)

My heart has its price-
just one little song
(but not a love song)

 My dead heart
Needs a jump start.
(It needs more than a song.)


Friday, February 24, 2012

Gravity

When you sit there and listen
to your fears come true,
that's when you wonder
why you're even here.

There is nothing more
rotten than your beliefs fraying-
and soon there is nothing
but that gnawing in your stomach.



Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Sonnet 2

Across the way a stranger stands alone,
The man wears a frown and dark clothing.
He glares at something in his hand- a phone.
He scowls at the phone with bitter loathing.
His posture grows more rigid and I wonder,
Who is this man that seems to blame humanity?
He disappears as the morning grows lighter.
Reality has chased away my hopes of serendipity.

Oh, to be the reason for your smile.
To feel the vibration of your laughter
in my heart as I lead you out of exile.
I want to be the one you call enchanter.
For I wish that one day we would meet.
It is the only dream I have that is sweet.



Saturday, February 18, 2012

Poetry in Motion

Happiness is being reminded
of why you love
to teach others about the harmony
between horse and rider.

Happiness is being reminded
of why you love
to train horses about the joy
of working with humans.

Poetry is not stationary-
it is forward moving.

Poetry is horse and rider
dancing with each other.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Sonnet 1

Time to write or else you will forget
what has been on your mind for ages.
Then you will feel something like regret
as your thoughts flee their rusted cages.
Once more the bell tolls for creativity
as it becomes apparent that your ability
to write was nothing more than a fallacy
and that you will leave behind no legacy.

So rush now and make use of your thoughts
before they disappear into the sunset,
or else you will drown amidst the onslaughts
of those who once called you an asset.

Scribble down some fevered words for it is late
and if you pause you will never meet your mate.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Valentine

You have an itchy spot on your shoulder
that you keep wanting me to scratch.
I chide you and you give me that look
that says I'm being a silly human.

You are everything I dreamed of when I was younger.

A southern belle with perfect poise;
except when you trip over nothing
or swallow water too fast and then it comes out your nose
You always look shocked when laugh at you.

You don't mind that I dress you in three layers 
when I'm sure you'd rather roll in the mud
until every inch of you is covered with it.

Even when you're the only one in the barn
you fall asleep as I pamper you.
When most other horses would flip out.

Other people say you're easy going
but I know the truth;
you are calm because you know how much I love you.
In return you take care of me,
unless I insult your pride-
then I end up on the ground wondering what happened.

I cuddle with you before I get into the saddle.
You give me your mule look if I don't cuddle long enough.
In truth you won me over the first time
you shoved your forehead into my chest
and let me rest my chin on your poll.

Love isn't a thing only found between two humans.
It is every where and you remind me that

you love me
as much as 
I love you.



Monday, February 13, 2012

Digital World

Blank screen with a cursor waiting
to give my thoughts life.
Not on paper but on a screen
that shows a representation of those ideas.

The words are produced
by code that enables the computer
to interpret the tapping of my keys.
These words aren't really here.

They aren't like words written on paper
for words on paper can't be unwritten.
Even if you try to erase pencil
there is always the remnants of what was once there.

However if I wanted to I could delete the files
that hold the digital representation of my thoughts.
With just a few clicks I could wipe away all trace
 of what I wrote.

If I was well adept with computer code
I could make sure any erroneous bits of my work
that might have been saved on another
part of my hard drive (or elsewhere)
was gone without a trace.

Indeed, this digital world is transient-
easily erasable and easily changed.
Now if I wanted to, if I was skilled enough;
I could disappear without a trace.

Just by knowing how to change code
and hack into health networks.

Everything is transitioning to the digital realm;
the question is-
are we prepared to lose ourselves amid the code?

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Love Song

Write me a love song 
and I will be yours.
My heart has its price-
Just one little song

and I will be sold for a ditty,
and with your crooning I will swoon
for your voice is the tune to which my heart beats.

Just a few words,
and a melody are all you will need
to claim me as yours.

My heart has its price-
Just one little song
that sings about the truth 
of what love really is.

My heart can't be sold to just anyone
for it takes more than a song
to make my dead heart swoon;
Your voice will have to jump start it.

For my heart lost its tune and now it
 is just a muscle inside my chest
that beats a rhythm to keep me alive.

The truth is that love is just 
something we sing about
but never actually experience.




Only In My Dreams

You-
as in the proverbial "you"
that everyone talks about,
dreams about and wishes was real.
Not the actual I met you but a-
I met you in a dream I once had.

Or maybe it's a dream that I keep having
 whenever I close my eyes.

You, as in I dream of you because
I've never met you but I wish that I had;
instead I only know you because
I dream about who you might be
because all I have is a dream;
 a lingering sense of you.

I write about you because I want you to be real.
Not I can see you when I close my eyes
kind of real-
but I can see your smile with my own two eyes
and I can feel your heartbeat against my cheek
as you hold me in your arms
kind of real.

I'm tired of the theories and the fairy tale stories
that tell me you'll come for me one day.

When honestly-
I don't believe that opinion for one second;
because how could you ever come for me
when you don't exist.

How could you exist
when I've never met you in this physical world.
You are too good to exist
as in you are too perfect to walk this earth.
Therefore you can't be real because
if you were real then you wouldn't be you.

So you see you can't exist
because by existing you don't exist.

I believe in the idea of
being held in your arms;
by being loved wholly by you.
But I believe that you will never materialize because
you are of my dreams.

 A man- a perfect man- that won't ever be a reality.

You as in you are my soul-mate I dream of;
wish for with every breath within me-
but I wish knowing that
my wish will never have any weight to it.

Therefore I will only ever meet you in my dreams
because in my dreams is the only place we can be together.



Thursday, February 9, 2012

Auction House

There was once a girl who
decided that to write a story
she must first find something to tell.
What could she write since there was nothing
extraordinary about her?

There was once a horse who found her human
that human didn't want that horse.
It was love, yes love,
that was the truest love
the girl had ever known.

You see, this girl was used to pushing on despite
some very unfortunate events in her life.
She was a survivor, you might say.
This girl had seen her father die by his own hand
and her mother drink herself into
a stupor that fried almost all of her brain cells.

I am not this girl
but rather I could have been
as I could have been any number of other girls.
Like this girl I know what it is to press on
when the "odds" are stacked against you.

The horse that found this girl was a big black mare
who had a history of attacking people.
The girl was at an auction,
yes, the kind of auction where horses are sold as cattle are
and these horses end up on some one's dining room table.

The girl was there because she'd just lost her partner in crime-
a flea-bitten pony
that could unlatch the most elaborate stall door locking system.

The girl's friend conned her into going to the auction by saying
"Let's go see a movie".
He was like a brother to her,
and his mother was her true mother.

They walked down the line of sad looking horses and there was a holler
as a big black horse spun to kick at one of the auction workers.
The auction worker let out a curse and then there was the crack
of a whip on horseflesh.

The girl opened her mouth and prepared to scream
at the man who grinned
as blood welled up on the horse's flank.
Her friend put his hand on her arm and said
"No sense in getting on their bad side."

He pulled her away from that stall with the big black horse
and they went back to the ring
where the unfortunate horses would find their fate.

She sat beside her friend and
watched as horse after horse
was saved from the clutches of the meat buyers.

Then the horses that no one wanted started coming through.
They were the old Amish horses and broken down thoroughbreds
that could barely stand on their own.
They were also the backyard bred horses that got too dangerous
for their uneducated owners
and she watched as the meat buyers
bought them all.

Then the big black horse with four white stockings came into the ring
and everyone seemed to shy away from that horse's hooves.
The auctioneer said she was a mare with great bloodlines
and he had the authentic registration papers to prove it.

The tale of this horse was that she was sent away for training
and instead of being trained she learned that humans were evil.

The horse's neck was one tight muscle and she was
a dragon from an old fairy tale.
She even exhaled twin streams of steam
as she looked down on all the humans.

The horse's eyes met the girl's.
Without knowing why the girl raised her number
and without a counter bid

She bought the horse for $200 dollars.

Her friend shook her shoulder and began the tirade of
"What are you doing?"
"Too late now! She's bought her." said a stranger near them.

The fire breathing horse watched as the girl got up.
No one went near the horse as it walked slowly
up to the fence around the ring.
The girl stood on the other side and breathed out slowly.
The horse breathed in her scent and then exhaled.

A bond forged.

Growing Up

There was a moment in time that I felt as if I had
all the time in the world to figure out who I was.
That was before I decided to pursue knowledge.
The funny thing about knowledge is that it makes you realize
how very dumb you are.

Childhood is the time in life when you are your smartest.
Everything around you is nothing compared to
the imagination in your mind.
The world isn't dictated by opinions and beliefs
but by your dreams and your wishes and your hopes.

A child can say to the world
"I am a prince(ss) and I will fight dragons
to save the day since only I can destroy evil monsters!"
Then the days change and the child is now standing
in the line at the elementary cafeteria and staring
into the red face of a cafeteria lady who has most likely
spit in the food she is now serving as she doesn't stop coughing.

Then there are the rules for proper school etiquette and sanctions
if the child doesn't fall those silly rules adults create to
take away the fun of saving the day and at the same time
those adults take away freedom with each year that passes by.
It is no wonder that adults say in the most wistful of voices
"Oh, to be a child for just one day."
When all the while they take the freedom from children
and say that they are just teaching them to be a part of society.

Is it any wonder that the older we get the more we wish to stay young?
When you brush your hair and all of the sudden find a grey hair
that refuses to be pulled out despite repeated attempts to make it go away.
Or when you look in the mirror and see that youthfulness
has given way to that scowl line between your brows that refuses to smooth out.
Why wouldn't you wish to be a child for just a little longer?

The worst is when you aren't allowed to be either.
When you're stuck between childhood and adulthood
and then you can't get away from that trap of being in between life stages.
It seems like the only way you can prove you are an adult
is if you get a job, get married and have kids of your own.
Then, well, then, you have to pretend again
that you know everything about the world
when in reality it is your children that are the true holders of knowledge.
And you, well, you are the greatest pretender that teaches another generation
that freedom is unobtainable when in reality you took it away.

Untitled-1

Creeping, crawling
along my arms.
Leaving a trail of goosebumps.

Echoes.


Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Chains

The echo of the chains falling
still rings through the darkness.

You left me to free another;
Told me to follow the light.

The light is so far away
Too far to follow.

My wrists ache
for the metal safety,

That is actually
My death sentence.

I am free to be
anything that I dream of being.

I bend down and feel for the chains.
My hand touches one and then the other.

There is that reassuring click
and I sigh as I feel their weight
on my wrists.

Flip-Flop

Flip-flop.

Almost done!
Almost done?!

How can that be so?

The years have surely flown by,
indeed they have.

Too slow I must say,
Nay! Too fast!

In just a few short months
I'll walk across that stage

and yell
YIPPEEE! I'm FREE!

or else

I'll whisper
No, not yet, I'm not ready.


To leave this place.

Flip-flop.

No Smoking


(narrative poem for class 2/7/2012- from a classmate's descriptive paragraph)

She is squished with three others in an old hospital room,
With an IV attached to her; it drips with the rhythm of the slowly ticking clock.
She lay in that starch white bed surrounded by
 used tissues, crumpled and covered with her blood and mucus.

There was that feeling of wanting to be free,
 to throw open the window and
Let in the cold, cold air.

Instead,
 I walked out of that room and into the hallway.
A man stands beside a dirty window.
I press my nose against it hoping for some air.

Instead I inhale smoke as the man puffs on a cigar.
Vietato Fumare!” in bold black letters on a poster that
hangs on the other side of the hallway.

Her language is gone now,
Except for that phrase.
Memories of her hacking coughs hit my heart;
 guilt and loss roll over me again.

I want to scream:
“Can’t you read?- Vietato Fumare!”
As if saying it now
Would have changed
What happened  last week.

My Human


(narrative poem for class 2/7/12- mine)

I watch her walking towards me with another.
I’ve been replaced!
How could she?

After all we’ve been through!
I am the shoulder she leans on when her cheeks
are damp with tears.
I’ve fought so hard to hold on
When she talked about us parting.

We are a team.
I am her support during the darkest times.
There must be a mistake.

Her voice!
I hear her lyrical voice as she whispers to that
Other one.

Am I being replaced?
That other one is not better than me!
I cannot believe this.

I’ve been with her through life’s changes.
I eased her anger and frustration.
When everything else disappears on her
I always stand beside her.

She’s told me that I am her only happiness;
That I remind her that the world is good.

We are a team,
Her and I.

She trusts me to take care of her;
I am the one that keeps her from falling

That three year old can’t possibly care for her
 As I do.

How dare she replace me with some one younger!
I turn and kick that other horse.
Hard.
There is a hierarchy to be followed.
She is my human!

Her voice chides me as I nuzzle her elbow.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Two-Fold

I was about to write,
to dig deeper into why I am who I am.
The thought unfurled and changed-
A story between God and me.
I thought perhaps not yet,
It isn't developed.
I think a lot about life-
I'm only an average writer.
I do not trust myself to write about-
the dark vibrations in my heart.

Moments often lost before they're captured; 
and desire to create a wellspring
of thoughts, gone before there is fodder
to be called consequential.
 Not my own self doubts
but the falseness of the world.
Writers distrust everything,
You must be willing to rethink 
those relationships that you held dear.
I cannot dig into my ponderings-
 uncertain truth lurks there.


Revised 5/3/2012

Narcolepsy

It was just a funny word,
One that brought to mind-
Pictures of old men
passing out in their rockers.

That was before
I started getting tired.
That was before
I found myself 
falling sleep in every single
one of my classes.

Then came the confusion
and frustration
of not being who I once was,
not caring about
anything other than sleep.

Which started-
A quest to answer 
"What is wrong with me?"

That fateful afternoon
with the sun drenching the world

I sat in an office,
and waited for the diagnosis;
except I already knew

I have Narcolepsy.

Addiction

In the morning,
I take them to wake up.

In the evening,
I take them to go to sleep.

Without them 
I am lost.

Chemicals churning
in my veins.

Will I ever be 
just me?

Without them
I am not sane.

I feel the change 
in my thoughts,
if I forget them.

Addicted,

to a concoction of drugs,

prescribed to alleviate
my disease. 


Thursday, February 2, 2012

I'm Only

as beautiful as you see me to be

as unavailable as you believe me to be


as much of a stranger as you perceive me to be


as interesting as you think me to be

as intelligent as you allow me to be


Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Question

Ignorance is bliss.

or is it that

Bliss is ignorance?

That Mental Itch.

Thoughts that strum the imagination.
A tune that hums hauntingly in my mind.

Always words half said; half completed.
Thoughts that are a quick staccato 
and then nothing more than a vibration
I keep on hearing even after the melody dies.

Echoes that turn into memories
While memories turn to bondage
and bondage turns into hopelessness
then hopelessness turns into fear.

That dream tossed to the ground.
A whisper I've tried to ignore.
Never quite grasping
that idea on the edge of my mind.

Like a phantom feeling
You turn but nothing's there.

A shiver across your arms
and a head shake to ignore 

the feeling

that there is something more.

Day 7.2

Pain drifts slowly
through my veins;

Aches that send the
body into silent groans.

Day 7.1

Like a blanket
sleep surrounds me,

Wrapping me into
a lullaby that whispers
"Escape."

Monday, January 30, 2012

Day 6.2

Encircling hands;
metallic clinking,

scraping across concrete.

A key's click echoes,

Metal slithers to the ground.

Day 6.1

A sigh exhaled.
As the mind's storm ends.

Fear relinquishes to Hope,
A New Day.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Day 5.2

Sunlight dancing on
the white ground
beneath my feet.

Soft crunching as
I leave prints behind.

Day 5.1

Thoughts sliding
down a slippery slope.

Careening faster and faster;

Gone before
they were recognized.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Day 4.2

Cold nips my nose
and fingers;

Shifting my feet.

I coach as the horse circles me.

Day 4.1

Specks of white,
dot my battered jacket.

A fleck lands on my cheek;
A Kiss.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Dream (Revised)

My childhood's constant companion;
You taught me to think like a champion.

When I was three
You said follow me.

I grasped your hand
following you into the land
of my sleeping mind's imagination.
Then something, like recognition

Sent you loping.
Now I'm left coping.

You are Goal's flighty cousin;
and you are Imagination's basin,
that creates the world I travel
whilst I also marvel

During sleep's most beautiful promise.
Then whispers echoes in the silence.

My heart aches with dreams forgotten
Which sends my thoughts towards rotten
and then they die as reality captures my heart
Now it seems I've lost the art

To create the tales you told me.

For Dream,
I cannot find you as the knock of
Future echoes in my head.


Day 3.2

Grainy, slightly off-white.
Black type.

Real; in my hands
as I turn a page.

Juniper Tree

I do not envy the tree that keeps its green
Against the savagery of winter.

Long, tenuous, green finger-like leaves
Drooping from slender, reptilian-like branches.

The juniper's green leaves-
A stark contrast to a dull grey landscape.
Its slender trunks are visible through
weeping bunches of branches and leaves.

Leaves that aren't brittle, evergreen needles
but similar to a succulent plant's leaves;
thin, bulbous and bendable.

Pressing against the window
Is the juniper tree;
Does it seek shelter
From brutal winds that 
rock it back and forth?

Does it seek the warmth 
that leeks out
into the bitter cold?

Bark like my skin;
Dry, flaky, because 
winter ravages it
as bark protects 
tender flesh.

With no sun 
to warm them,
leaves curl
 in on themselves.

Day 3.1

Hoof beats barely echo on sand.

-For one breath,

We leave ground behind
 as we fly.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Day 2.2

Quiet munching.

Dark brown eyes
look deep into mine.

My cheek against
soft brown fur.

Day 2.1 (Revised)

(Original)

Cracks in the sky
glowing

through the heavy
cloak

that suffocates humanity
we breathe

(Revised)

The heavy cloak
that suffocates
humanity

fades;

As hope shines
through cracks
made by sunbeams.


Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Day 1.2 (revised)

(original)
That color
just beyond sight

a blur
of something more

shimmering
on a promise


(revised)

Shimmering promise
of a color;

reassuring there is something-
A blurred memory
of another season.


Day 1.1 (revised)

(Original)

Ice drips
on fingers brittle

scratching
on window cracked

whispers
never heard

just felt


(Revised)

Icy wind carries
a phantom
into the room.

Whispered hope
never heard

just felt.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Leo

Majestic in all he does
A king of the wilds. 
Walking on silent paws
 A warrior of the fields. 

 He does not need to roar
 For his shaggy mane and broad muscles
 Speak volumes to those who watch in the shadows.
 A hunter of the old ways.

Every eye on him as he moves.
Awe ripples through the audience
An oddity that's captured the world
Just by being who he is

The lion is the world's deadliest hunter.
One that people fear
and yet revere.
He prowls without a sound.

Mighty is he who rules the field,
Who takes defeat without lying down.
One purpose on his mind
To be the best there is.

Single focus.
His eyes follow the
elusive prey,
He imagines the glory of success.

Desire to be like him
To be a mighty lion
yet not all can be lions
The world would be so dull if that was all there is

We need the song birds
The fleet footed horse
The happy dog
and the mysterious leopard

I love the lion
For he is a wonderful hunter
Of one minded focus
Loyal to the cause

Yet I will not hunt
as he hunts
For I am not a lion
but a puma who lurks in
The shadows.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Dream

Thuds against the heart
Rolling in my head
Twisting my thoughts 
Into a dance with no rhythm

Whispered in my ear
As I lay nestled in blankets
Eyes fly open
The room echoes silence

The scent of you 
Tickles my nose

Nothing of you remains
For you were never more than

A Dream

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Welcome

Welcome:
This is a blog for my Poetry class.
On this blog you will find poems I've written for class as well as some other poems that I've written this semester.
My main blog is http://dreameralways.blogspot.com