Missing Out

Composed 6/27/13
Description: I realized today how infrequently I take advantage of admiring the view from my window. It faces west and reveals the large field across the street, so of course the evenings are lovely. But I rarely admire a sunset or even the beautiful scenery that I am lucky enough to be surrounded by. I suddenly had the thought — if an admirer (a sort of Peter Pan or a similar mystical, handsome figure) was hovering and glancing in my second-story window… I would never notice. What a shame that’d be!

Her custom (he knew)
Was to sit and to stare
At a flashing slick screen
(While twisting long auburn hair)
For hours she’d spend
Clicking and twisting
Once in a while, a smile
(Which he often found missing)
Her cheeks were flushed
Her pale soles flew high
Their accompanying stems
Twisting, like a dance, in the sky
He knew the way
She slept, drank, ate
As she spent her nights there
(Because he came everyday)
How often he wished
She’d catch his stare
(For with one glance
One could see he was there)
But, no, those eyes
(So wide and so gray)
Were only aimed at the screen
Missing out
On love’s sway

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The Reality of Summer

Composed 6/22/13
Description: You know that lovely, firefly-filled walk I went on this evening? You know, the one filled with the magic of summer? Well, I’m just now discovering that the fireflies weren’t the only things surrounding me out there.

And thus: a companion to The Magic of Summer.

In a not so lovely
Twist of fate
The mosquitoes found me tasty
And they ate

The Magic of Summer

Composed 6/22/13
Description: This evening I went out on what is becoming my traditional evening walk. When I was about half way back to my house fireflies appeared — suddenly, as if they all turned on their lights at the same time. I watched in interest as little flicks of light burst all around me — some shockingly close. Oh, yes, I thought. It
IS summer isn’t it?

With this romantic image of summer in my head I looked in front of me, saw a speck of light flash, and, in what I consider a move of impressive athletic skill, I snatched a lightning bug out of mid air. It rested comfortably in my palm for about a second before I opened my hand, allowing it to fly away. However, strangely enough, it did not fly away. Not instantly, not after a few seconds…

No, the lightning bug, apparently thinking I was some kind of cozy, mobile tree, got comfortable on my pinky and accompanied me for the rest of my walk. I could almost hear him saying “Hey girl! Thanks for the lift! How’d you know all the best girl fireflies live on the other end of the street?”

And, indeed, like my driveway was some kind of designated bus stop, as soon as I approached it, the firefly shuddered and leapt into the air to show off his lovely lights to some female friends.

This lovely little event inspired this lovely little poem.

A small wisp of light
Caught gently in the palm
Goes for a ride
As I walk along

False Light

Composed 6/17/13
Description: Just some thoughts I had today.

I don’t even want you, you know
And I couldn’t have you if I did
But I’ve been thinking of your lips lately
Of your calloused working hands
Pulling me to your torso broad
And your warmth so dear

But it’s just those things I want, once lover
You’re just a trembling lamp
So I will let the moon wax and wane
And wait in darkness for the light

Visions in the Night

Composed 6/16/13
Description: I’ve been feeling a bit lonely today.

the worst result of your sway
is
I admit
not your fault
but that does not mean
I cannot drown
in the steamy pressure of the night
that fogs my mind
with red
with darkness
and squeezes my body all over
then releasing
leaving my heart and soul empty
an emptiness that
lasts and lasts

Steampunk

Composed 6/15/13
Description: Confession time: I am obsessed with steampunk stuff. If you don’t know what steampunk is, well, it is essentially a re-invention of Victorian England. It is what that time period might be like if steam power was utilized to its full extent — to ridiculously large proportions. Household items, weapons, (air)ships, automobiles… everything works off of steam power and these strange, mechanical inventions have influenced all of life. However, otherwise things, such as Victorian fashion, are roughly the same… just with a steam powered and mechanical twist.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, because in a few months there’s a convention going on in a city very close to me… giving me a perfect excuse to dress up! Yes, I have a costume, and I am pumped. Anyway, while daydreaming about this, I was inspired to write an “ode” to steampunk if you will. Hope you enjoy!

It’s hard to describe
The grand appeal
Of clocks and gears
And battered steel
Of smoky mist
And thick brass pipes
Of rusty gauges and
Foggy lights

It makes no sense
The love that stems
From skeleton keys
With wings and gems
Or how we wish that
This old key
Went to a ship of the air
And not the sea

With golden sails and
Bows of brass
We dream of soaring
The skies at last
Dawned with boots
Of scarred brown leather
And tall top hats
With goggles and feathers

And in the middle
Dashing slacks
With old gold buttons
And a proud red sash
Topped off with
A captain’s massive coat
With medals applauding
Our skills and boat

And then the others
Who dress much less plain
Sport corsets and bustles
And waistcoats with chains
Oh, why do we long for
This made up time
When old London
And steam power run prime

I guess we just want
To get away
From the normalcy
Of the day to day
We want to dream
Of inventions, adventures
That are all our own
That no one can censor

Psychic

Composed: 6/12/13
Description: I have not posted in a long while it seems. This is partially because I am currently readjusting to working full time and partially because I have been inspired to continue working on a novel-in-progress. In fact, it has come to the point that I come up with backstories and events so randomly I’ve resorted to carrying around a notebook to write ideas as they come to me. This random inspiration that occurs throughout the day also makes it very hard to focus on work, hence this poem…

I reside in two realms
One reveals to me the past and future
The other strangles me with the present
Though I struggle to remain
Constantly slipping
Sliding
Seeing
And scribbling down pieces of lives

The world grasps me with its claws
Reeling me back to a pool of the numbest gray
But I am enticed by my premonitions
Unable to thrive in the world of the living
Unable to relinquish my soul
And let it be dragged down and drowned

The disjointed
Random realm
Of adrenaline and twisting lines
Of smoke and blood
Of rain and startling colors
That flashes before my eyes
Rolling back into my skull
Are a blessing
And must be written down for the good of man
Though I must record my thoughts in private
Lest I be cast out by those who judge

Thus is the life
Of a psychic
A clairvoyant
A writer