Looking me over, glaring into the inside,
past the hair and sweater,
down into the eyes,
feeling the beating of the heart,
swimming through the veins,
drilling into bone.
Analyzed, criticized,
gone over with a fine toothed comb,
transcripts, manuscripts,
dug through to China,
weight on the shoulders.
Eyes watch the prey,
not ready to strike,
but not ready to let up,
always watching.
The simple poetry blog of just one young woman along with some music and other food for thought.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Stitched Up
The porcelain doll sat, droopy and dropped,
little dress worn with spaces and dots,
round cheeks all covers in spots.
Eyes so sad, depressed and blotted,
tears running down a nose so snotted.
But then came a hand, furry and soft,
of a sweet teddy bear offering his sweater,
to wrap around the poor doll's shivering arms.
He picked her up, brought her to his loft,
held her gently and sang a song.
And there she sat as he mended her dress,
stitched her right up and filled in the holes
of a delicate heart once ripped to shreds.
He gave her a hug, then a kiss,
never to leave her side again.
little dress worn with spaces and dots,
round cheeks all covers in spots.
Eyes so sad, depressed and blotted,
tears running down a nose so snotted.
But then came a hand, furry and soft,
of a sweet teddy bear offering his sweater,
to wrap around the poor doll's shivering arms.
He picked her up, brought her to his loft,
held her gently and sang a song.
And there she sat as he mended her dress,
stitched her right up and filled in the holes
of a delicate heart once ripped to shreds.
He gave her a hug, then a kiss,
never to leave her side again.
Monday, October 17, 2011
The Air Balloon- a poem in form
High up in the sky, color streaks
through the air a wicker basket flies
one so happy they could not die
a day not nearly bleak.
Below sits the cold ground
trembling, no longer bound.
Floating gracefully, watching mountains
grassy green hills and snow capped tops
fire streaming into air, pops,
wind dripping like water in a fountain.
Warmth, hot from the sun's rays
never to come down another day.
through the air a wicker basket flies
one so happy they could not die
a day not nearly bleak.
Below sits the cold ground
trembling, no longer bound.
Floating gracefully, watching mountains
grassy green hills and snow capped tops
fire streaming into air, pops,
wind dripping like water in a fountain.
Warmth, hot from the sun's rays
never to come down another day.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Brick Road
Steps echoed on the rough brick,
clanking with the sound of heels.
Stumbling on the cracks, weary, tired.
Falling, falling, falling...
Skinned knees, ripped tights, bruised elbows.
Broken heels, bend in the road.
Unsteady, unsure,
Falling, falling, falling...
White as paper,
eyes black holes,
gone.
Fell.
clanking with the sound of heels.
Stumbling on the cracks, weary, tired.
Falling, falling, falling...
Skinned knees, ripped tights, bruised elbows.
Broken heels, bend in the road.
Unsteady, unsure,
Falling, falling, falling...
White as paper,
eyes black holes,
gone.
Fell.
Monday, October 10, 2011
The Swing Set
This is a working direct address poem that was drafted in class.
It was a chilly spring night and I had run off
in tears and shaking, unsure.
It was you that followed, caught up to me
by the clinking metal of the swing set.
As I sat, quietly, looking towards the stars.
You sat next to me in silence,
allowing me to feel the air,
take in the moment and calm down.
You chopped finger holes in your sweatshirt
to keep from freezing your hands
as I spewed the story of confusion.
It was you that wrapped me in a tight hug to your chest,
picked me an early blooming flower
and guided me safely back home.
That was when I knew
I was safe with you.
It was a chilly spring night and I had run off
in tears and shaking, unsure.
It was you that followed, caught up to me
by the clinking metal of the swing set.
As I sat, quietly, looking towards the stars.
You sat next to me in silence,
allowing me to feel the air,
take in the moment and calm down.
You chopped finger holes in your sweatshirt
to keep from freezing your hands
as I spewed the story of confusion.
It was you that wrapped me in a tight hug to your chest,
picked me an early blooming flower
and guided me safely back home.
That was when I knew
I was safe with you.
Teddy Bear
I want to live like a teddy bear,
warm and snugged close to my little owner.
Knitted tiny blankets and sweaters,
and swept off on adventures to the grocery store and car wash.
Swing on the highest swing,
be the honored guest of a tea party,
travel to imaginary worlds.
I want to be comforted at night,
but also give security,
letting my someone know I'm there
and that I'll catch all their nightmares
from the bedroom ceiling and tackle
the monster in the closet.
I want to be a teddy bear,
and learn how to finger paint,
get stolen by Momma to throw me
into the swirling hurricane bath
and then tumbled dry on the ultimate tea cup ride.
warm and snugged close to my little owner.
Knitted tiny blankets and sweaters,
and swept off on adventures to the grocery store and car wash.
Swing on the highest swing,
be the honored guest of a tea party,
travel to imaginary worlds.
I want to be comforted at night,
but also give security,
letting my someone know I'm there
and that I'll catch all their nightmares
from the bedroom ceiling and tackle
the monster in the closet.
I want to be a teddy bear,
and learn how to finger paint,
get stolen by Momma to throw me
into the swirling hurricane bath
and then tumbled dry on the ultimate tea cup ride.
The Drive In
Give me back my rustic sunsets, my oranges and reds.
Give me back my star lit nights when the truck
of the car would be popped as we sat at the drive in.
Give me back those times as a family
that we spent together,
buying popcorn and curling under blankets.
Give me back those joke stabs Dad used to tell us kids,
just to make us laugh.
Give me back the joy of giggling together
as the movie progressed or as
my sister's foot was shoved into my face.
Give me back the long tired ride home,
snugged up, car belts restraining.
Give me back my family.
Give me back my star lit nights when the truck
of the car would be popped as we sat at the drive in.
Give me back those times as a family
that we spent together,
buying popcorn and curling under blankets.
Give me back those joke stabs Dad used to tell us kids,
just to make us laugh.
Give me back the joy of giggling together
as the movie progressed or as
my sister's foot was shoved into my face.
Give me back the long tired ride home,
snugged up, car belts restraining.
Give me back my family.
Fantasy of Return
The sweeping fields and expansive barns,
the sweet smell of leather and soap,
shaved bedding squished under booted feet,
cobwebs lining the wooden planks.
The clank of hooves on pavement,
the thump of feet on dirt,
sharp neighs and whinnies,
the jingling of metal clips on halters.
Scratchy hay munched on happily,
sweat and dirt sticking to jeans,
splattered in water from hose and bucket,
mud filled legs as fields saturate.
Flying horse hair through the air
as rubber curry combs are thrown into a bucket,
orange drops of carrots sticking out from
a wet tooth yellow muzzle.
A hug from a special furry copper animal.
A smile that has been forgotten and left behind in the past.
the sweet smell of leather and soap,
shaved bedding squished under booted feet,
cobwebs lining the wooden planks.
The clank of hooves on pavement,
the thump of feet on dirt,
sharp neighs and whinnies,
the jingling of metal clips on halters.
Scratchy hay munched on happily,
sweat and dirt sticking to jeans,
splattered in water from hose and bucket,
mud filled legs as fields saturate.
Flying horse hair through the air
as rubber curry combs are thrown into a bucket,
orange drops of carrots sticking out from
a wet tooth yellow muzzle.
A hug from a special furry copper animal.
A smile that has been forgotten and left behind in the past.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Awakened the Beast- second revise
In the shadows, untouched, the cage sat.
I watched people pass.
A few approached and wandered away.
Some stayed a little while, but they too wandered off
when the Beast wouldn't wake.
I crept near the cage, footsteps quieted,
head pounding.
I mustered all my bravery in my blood.
There he lay, curled up.
His dark chocolate brown black hair mussed,
muscles rippling.
Eyes closed, unaware of my entrance.
Breathe tooted softly from his nose,
trapped behind the steel bars.
I slipped a hand into a worn pocket, fishing around
for the tiny silver key.
Why didn't any one else have the key?
It was in my pocket, not theirs.
The key's delicate neck clicked in the lock.
His eyes shot open, body stanced for an attack.
He looked at me with the deep hazelnut eyes.
Immediately enchanted, I approached.
He pounced, pinned me, teeth out,
held me to his chest.
But instead of fear, passion overtook me
and drove me to free the Beast from the cage.
I watched people pass.
A few approached and wandered away.
Some stayed a little while, but they too wandered off
when the Beast wouldn't wake.
I crept near the cage, footsteps quieted,
head pounding.
I mustered all my bravery in my blood.
There he lay, curled up.
His dark chocolate brown black hair mussed,
muscles rippling.
Eyes closed, unaware of my entrance.
Breathe tooted softly from his nose,
trapped behind the steel bars.
I slipped a hand into a worn pocket, fishing around
for the tiny silver key.
Why didn't any one else have the key?
It was in my pocket, not theirs.
The key's delicate neck clicked in the lock.
His eyes shot open, body stanced for an attack.
He looked at me with the deep hazelnut eyes.
Immediately enchanted, I approached.
He pounced, pinned me, teeth out,
held me to his chest.
But instead of fear, passion overtook me
and drove me to free the Beast from the cage.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Awakened the Beast- first revise
The cage sat in the shadows, left untouched.
I watched people as they passed by.
A few approached and wandered away.
Some stayed for a little while, but they too became bored
when the Beast wouldn’t awake.
I crept near the cage, footsteps quieted,
courage in my heart.
I mustered the bravery of a thousand eagles
to face the wrath of the Beast.
There he lay, curled up and watching.
His brown black hair mussed,
humongous muscles rippling.
Eyes closed, unaware of my entrance.
Breathe exhaled from his nose,
Eyes closed, unaware of my entrance.
Breathe exhaled from his nose,
trapped behind the steel bars.
I slipped a hand into a worn pocket, fishing around
for the tiny silver key to open the cage.
I slipped a hand into a worn pocket, fishing around
for the tiny silver key to open the cage.
I wondered why no one else had the key,
but it was in my pocket, not theirs.
The key's delicate neck clicked in the lock,
The key's delicate neck clicked in the lock,
the keychain clinking against the sterling silver.
Stepping back, I braced myself for the beast.
His eyes shot open, body ready for an attack.
He looked at me with those eyes,
piercing an arrow through my heart.
Immediately enchanted, I approached.
He pounced, pinned me, teeth out.
Stepping back, I braced myself for the beast.
His eyes shot open, body ready for an attack.
He looked at me with those eyes,
piercing an arrow through my heart.
Immediately enchanted, I approached.
He pounced, pinned me, teeth out.
A sense of safe drifted over me as he held me to his chest.
Instead of fear, it was passion that overtook me
and drove me to let the Beast out of the cage.
Instead of fear, it was passion that overtook me
and drove me to let the Beast out of the cage.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Awakened the Beast
I crept near the cage, footsteps quieted, courage in my heart.
There he rested, curled up and watching.
His brown black hair mussed, muscles rippling.
Eyes closed, he lay unaware of my entrance.
Breathe exhaled from his nose, trapped behind the steel bars.
I slipped a hand into a worn pocket, fishing around
for the tiny silver key to open the cage.
The key's delicate neck clicked in the lock.
Stepping back, I braced myself for the beast.
His eyes shot open, body ready for an attack.
He looked at me with those eyes,
those eyes that pierced an arrow through my heart.
Immediately enchanted, I approached.
He pounced, pinned me, teeth out.
But instead of fear, it was passion that overtook me
and drove me to let the Beast out of the cage.
There he rested, curled up and watching.
His brown black hair mussed, muscles rippling.
Eyes closed, he lay unaware of my entrance.
Breathe exhaled from his nose, trapped behind the steel bars.
I slipped a hand into a worn pocket, fishing around
for the tiny silver key to open the cage.
The key's delicate neck clicked in the lock.
Stepping back, I braced myself for the beast.
His eyes shot open, body ready for an attack.
He looked at me with those eyes,
those eyes that pierced an arrow through my heart.
Immediately enchanted, I approached.
He pounced, pinned me, teeth out.
But instead of fear, it was passion that overtook me
and drove me to let the Beast out of the cage.
Defining Passion
While the outside is murky, but my heart on fire, I was walking along and something came to me. The definition of passion. It brought back memories of being in a scholarship interview and being asked to go more in depth regarding my passion for writing and journalism, "We've heard it all." While today I cannot fully quote what I told the interviewers that day, something worked because I received the only print journalism scholarship they offered.
But as I think now, a different sense of passion comes to mind. Of course there is the being passionate about an activity you enjoy. That is always good. But what I believe has been lost in the world is the true sense of passion. The need. The fire. The feisty. Passion gets a bad rap sometimes. It gets a bad rap under the Lust Department; that creepy basement closet that only the most desperate for physical closeness go.
Like what the interviewers asked me that day, passion has depth. It has a superficial surface where the lust department lies. It has a more genuine, innocent side and it has the true depth which is what I am just beginning to understand and explore. True depth of passion has the longing, the need, the admiration, the fire, and the desire. It consumes your whole being and it takes a very special person to reciprocate the same amount and depth of passion. But once you find that person, you begin to understand passion. You begin to understand why people use the word.
Passion is something that is difficult to pinpoint. It's not a game of pin the tail on the donkey. It takes maturity and that leap of faith to find and discover it. And once found, you simply cannot let go. You will forever drown in the passion and even though you cannot get out, you won't want to. I want to conclude with a quote from a movie that a friend told me. I forget which movie, but something about it struck me and really seemed to apply.
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is full of passion. And medicine, law, business, those are noble pursuits and necessary for life. but poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for."
But as I think now, a different sense of passion comes to mind. Of course there is the being passionate about an activity you enjoy. That is always good. But what I believe has been lost in the world is the true sense of passion. The need. The fire. The feisty. Passion gets a bad rap sometimes. It gets a bad rap under the Lust Department; that creepy basement closet that only the most desperate for physical closeness go.
Like what the interviewers asked me that day, passion has depth. It has a superficial surface where the lust department lies. It has a more genuine, innocent side and it has the true depth which is what I am just beginning to understand and explore. True depth of passion has the longing, the need, the admiration, the fire, and the desire. It consumes your whole being and it takes a very special person to reciprocate the same amount and depth of passion. But once you find that person, you begin to understand passion. You begin to understand why people use the word.
Passion is something that is difficult to pinpoint. It's not a game of pin the tail on the donkey. It takes maturity and that leap of faith to find and discover it. And once found, you simply cannot let go. You will forever drown in the passion and even though you cannot get out, you won't want to. I want to conclude with a quote from a movie that a friend told me. I forget which movie, but something about it struck me and really seemed to apply.
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is full of passion. And medicine, law, business, those are noble pursuits and necessary for life. but poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for."
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