Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Begging for the Beautiful

Sooo I really did mean to post again last month! I wrote a poem and everything and then... it was May? April was full of fun/overwhelmingly busy and my writing has suffered for it. Does that ever happen to you? You fall too far away from your creative self and it becomes harder and harder to clamber back to your internal world?

Good news is, I figured out my next project! It's still very much in the planning phase, but it feels good to have a world to slip away to again.

In the meantime, I wrote this poem. I'm not a very political person, but recent(ish) events inspired this one.

Begging for the Beautiful

The World’s come untethered
It wobbles off its axis
for someone to cling to
as it spirals into darkness

The Sky is burning
Flames lick the stars while black smoke
Like a shroud veiling
The horizon

The Sea is a skeleton
Ridges and fissures and broken bits
of bone
Unshielded from the sun

The Earth is dusty
It remembers 
the color green
the tall grass buzzing with bees and butterflies
And yearns for that thumping pulse
the tread of your feet

The People are weeping
Bruised and bloody
on their knees
Begging for the Beautiful that the world
had promised
The goodness they were meant to see

You’re searching
But you cannot find the Beautiful

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Heartbreaking Quiet

Well, it's been awhile since I've posted. Again. I feel like every time I post on here, I'm apologizing for that. But I've been hard at work writing book-shaped things, so I've chosen to let this blog thing fall by the wayside.

I've gone back and forth on whether I should even keep it at all. The thing is, I always sort of envisioned this as a writing advice blog. But, I find I'm always struggling to come up with things to talk about. And who am I to give you advice, anyway?

I'm one of those people who *always* thinks before they speak, and frequently talks themselves out of saying anything at all. Classic INTJ, I know. But there are things I WANT to talk about. Important things, things rooted deep within my heart. But in the end, I won't have any real answers. And I honestly don't feel qualified to pretend to. So I've decided to express myself in another way.

I'm constantly jotting down poems and doodling in notebooks (habit from my days as a teenage cliche, I suppose) so I'm going to use this space to share those things with you. Starting now. Hope you enjoy!

Heartbreaking Quiet

In the silence of night
It aches
Like a bruise
Tiny hearts bursting
Stars beneath your skin

A shuddering sigh
Shadows cup the raw pulp of something warm
Something beating
Whispering dark, quiet things
Lonely things
Ramparts to your strength

Words are sand to your dry mouth
And silence plump dewdrops cradled
In the folds of a flower
They warn you
Yours is a half-formed wisdom
So moor it to your forsaken place
The graveyard for all your maiden ships

These wilds
They never taught you to remember

They leave you in the rushes
Flayed and swollen
From when they reached inside to touch it
But they’ll never touch it
Because they don’t understand what they feel

The tadpole cocooned inside a web
All you wanted was to fly