Your World

A poem I wrote in high school. Our prompt was alliteration.

You yawn yearningly in the yard
The natural chill of the morning air
Nips at your face
As you give the green grass the ability to become
A makeshift pillow
And the cloudy ceiling coats you with a coverlet
People walk by
And you smile
Wave, like a good child
A few stop to look at you
Some with startling smirks
Others with crazed expressions
They scare you
But you’re not concerned
The fence separates you from the world
The streak separating safety
And harm
Until he opens the gate
And you’re horrified
Because no one had dared break down the barrier
The kept you alive
He beckons to you
Offering melodies of a new life
For you to dance to
Timidly, you tread the tightrope
Between new and old
He gives you a glimpse of the globe
All of its insanities
Insecurities
Indulgences
And you relish in it
In this new land that petrifies
Yet pulls you closer
With the thoughts that someday
Someday, it might be yours

Connect

She looks at you with such amazement
Wonder

You look at her with such apprehension

Unhappiness

She won’t blink
In fear that you’ll disappear
Poof

You can’t blink

In fear that you’ll crumble within yourself

Poof

She reaches out a hand
But her coordination is off
And she grabs frantically at the air

She tries to seize you

But misses considerably

And you watch as she angrily clenches the air

She tries again
But to no avail
Her eyes narrow and her mouth forms a set line

She grabs for you another time

And fails again

You see her face morph into frustration

Her mouth opens
In a temporarily silent scream

You listen as her lips part

And you let loose an equally mute wail of aggravation

She allows the ache to wrack her body
Unconsciously knowing that to survive
She must learn to live with it

You suffer from the turmoil

Knowing that such is life

But not understanding how to cope with it

She takes one more chance
To connect with you

You take this opportunity

To finally connect

And as her fingers come into contact with yours
You both let loose a breath of anxiety and unease
And allow the gentle sounds of your hearts to take over
As both grips tighten
And smiles ghost over your faces

Fair

She’s perfect in every way
Like a rosebud with morning dew
The world marvels
As she dances through life

He’s defective in every way
Like a toy without batteries
The world pities
As he barely manages to survive

She hides behind a mask
Of granite and stone
That blocks her soul from escaping

He lives as himself
With few fears
Allowing his deepest secrets to show

She jealous of him
Of his confidence

He’s jealous of her
Of her confidence

He can he let loose all of his insecurities?

How can she manage to hide everything away?

It’s just not fair

Sticks and Stones

“Skin can mend and bones will heal, but my bruised soul I’ll always feel.”

 

The words sink into you,

Like the fangs of a black widow

Their venom seeps through

Until your eyes are aglow

With the voices of others

Creating a world

Of sisters and brothers

Who defend when you’re furled

But stab your heart

Your back

When you take part

Of a different pack

You smile as blood runs down

Sticks and stones

So you put on a frown

Because you want to make atones

But deep inside you know

That skin can mend

And bones will grow

But your bruised soul

You’ll carry forever

Found poetry

An assignment from high school English class:

Night by Elie Wiesel “Found” Poetry

            “It was pitch dark. I could only hear the violin, and it was as though Juliek’s soul were the bow. He was playing his life. The whole of his life was gliding on the strings—his lost hopes, his charred past, his extinguished future. He played as he would never play again.

            “I shall never forget Juliek. How could I forget that concert, given to an audience of dead and dying men! To this day, whenever I hear Beethoven played my eyes close and out of the dark rises the sad, pale face of my Polish friend, as he said farewell on his violin to an audience of dying men.

            “I do not know for how long he played. I was overcome by sleep. When I awoke, in the daylight, I could see Juliek opposite me, slumped over, dead. Near him lay his violin, smashed, trampled, a strange overwhelming little corpse.”

The Final Symphony

The dark pitch of the violin

Playing his life

His soul

The bow gliding as an extinguished farewell

Farewell to dead men

Dying men

Charred and lost men

Me

Juliek

A pale face

Rising out of the dark

As Beethoven said farewell

To his charred audience

The daylight awoke

Overwhelming

Trampled

Dead

It Works

 Your hands aren’t touching mine

But I can feel your clammy fingertips

There’s a space between our bodies

That gradually diminishes

As we unconsciously move

Towards the pocket of heat

By our legs

The denim of our pants

Barely caressing

I can hear your heartbeat

And for a split second

I’m curious if you can hear mine

As it slows to match yours

Harmonizing

Beat for beat

We’re silent

Choosing to look ahead

Until I glance over at you

To find you staring at me

A small half-smile

And a slight tilt of the head

In a silent agreement

Our fingers touch

And I feel the electrical currents

Running up and down my arm

I lean towards your shoulder

And as my head greets

The crook of your neck

Skin meets skin

In one fluid motion

Our hands are linked together

I’m not quite sure

What this is

But…

It works

I found one of my poems from high school

And I’m actually not that embarrassed by it. Thank you creative writing for helping me restart my writing habit. And thank you to fanfiction for keeping me from doing my homework and making a couple new friends with similar interests. I think I might post some of my works every so often and/or write new things. I figure a blog is as good a place as any to get things up and noticed.

Here’s my poem. It’s dark and foreboding, not unlike my soul. I let the darkness consume me. It’s beautiful.

Ignorance

It’s there

He can feel It

Feel It suffocating him with Its clammy fingertips

It blinds him

Makes him deaf

Mute

Until all he can see, hear, say

Is Her

His future stands in front of him

The solitary image in his mind

The rest of the world a flurry of imperceptible colors

And muffled noise

He sees them all

Hears them speak to him

But they only bring him down

And one look at Her has him floating

Soaring

It stands aside and watches joyfully

As he reaches into himself

And pulls out a present swathed in silk

It throbs in his shaking hand

And without saying a word

It tells him to persist

To ignore the world

Because She is the World

He hands it to Her

And watches as She smiles

States its beauty

Says the recipient is lucky

So lucky

She reaches into Her pocket

And pulls out a gift

Exactly like his

But the distinction is there

It laughs knowingly

Because the plan has been set in motion

The differences are subtle

The silk is lace

The sash, a ribbon

It purrs and hums while It chuckles happily

The unheard noises louder than the thumping of his heart

The beating stops

But the breathing continues

Gently touching his hand, She offers him his gift back

Affirming its splendor once more

His soul shudders and crumbles

And while She stands tall

He collapses into himself

And It crookedly smiles

Baring Its gleaming teeth

Putting the present back

The gentle throb becomes a whisper

That informs him he wasn’t wrong

Is not mistaken

It clouds all reality

Your love is strong, It says

Your love is right

Make her yours, It screams

He nods as It creates a haze in his mind

Yes, of course

I Have No Heart

 I Have No Heart Because It’s In Your Hands

I sigh
And lie down on your bed
Clutching a pillow
Next to my chest.
I breathe it in
And smile happily
Because
It smells like you
A scent I can’t define
But could determine anywhere