Consent

Composed 12/16/17
Description:  Inspired by life and the Daily Prompt: Meager.

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

— Eleanor Roosevelt

I had already given myself the talk
My worth is not based on
accomplishment, talent

I had already given up
talentless, hopeless
I should move on, forget it
This hobby, this dream

Then expectation overturned, reversed
giddiness, excitement
All was not as it seemed

Then passion, pride burned
In my chest as I freed
My own heart from this self-inflicted curse
Merely a meager word
Changed the course
Of my own history

Realization, turns pensive
Despite my faculties
I still allow others to own me

Living the Dream

Composed 1/12/17
Description: As a soon-to-be-graduated graduate student, I spend a lot of time thinking about the future. It’s easy to get lost in the hum-drum of thinking about jobs and apartments and money.  But no matter what the future holds as far as all that goes, this is the best case scenario. For today’s Daily Prompt: Someday.

Sinking into warm cushions and
Opening my arms to you
Melting into the mindless hum of
Entertainment droning on and on as I
Distance myself from the day and
Admire the warmth of your skin and smile
Yearning for nothing

Sickness

Composed 9/7/15
Description: I wrote this at night so long ago I don’t even remember what brought it on…

You wish me to be happy
But all I breathe is poison in the air
Your daisies might bring a smile
But all the while I seep with sick
I can’t escape it
It’s in my eyes
It coats each face
Each smiling, sweet face
Juxtaposed with fangs and fire
A hot drugged despair
It’s in the air
We’re all sick with it
We just tolerate it
But not me
Not today when it’s all I see
Angel, bring me sleep and
Set me free

Man of My Dreams

Composed 6/12/15
Description: n/a

Yours haunt like no other
I seem to always remember
The feeling, so intense, after your dreams
So real, such comfort a common theme
A heart’s sweet trick, a mind’s demise
For a night and some short morning time
You are my grasp, a warm stronghold
I could almost forget the true old cold
Bite of your apathy
Ignorant dichotomy
Of favor with neglect
Reluctance with respect
Such heartache
Each time that I truly wake
The man of my dreams
Is all it seems
You will ever be
To me

What Comes in the Haze of Night

Composed 10/25/14
Description: I admit I feel silly posting something so incredibly sappy, but I’ve not written in so long… and this is what came to me as I was drifting to sleep, so this is what you get. But it’s really about just trying to make someone happy, so it’s not too sappy?

My dreams are of your gray eyes closed
Fingertips dusting a pale spotted cheek
Then tracing down, across sharp bones
At a moment when I’m feeling weak

And slowly then they’ll find your hair
Twisting down like silken lace
As I slowly, shyly dare
To press my lips to a guarded face

But it is not for the taste of your skin I wish
Just the subtle pleased twist of a smile on your lips

Faces

Composed 4/12/14
Description (Day 11 of NaPoWriMo) A little late, admittedly, but I really had no choice. I have been gone all day (due to a research conference and swing dancing event falling on the same day), so now has been my first chance to write.

Recently I stumbled across a kind of “did you know” fact that stated that all of the people from our dreams are people we’ve seen in real life.  Those people we’ve never met before that star in our subconscious stories are just faces from people we’ve passed on the street, etc. Now, I am not certain of the validity of this fact, but I do find this idea interesting none-the-less. I’ve come up with the romantic idea that those random strangers that find their way into our dreams are somehow important to us; if we were ever to interact with these random people we see in a crowd, a significant (and possibly romantic) relationship would form. Could it be our dreams alert us to those faces that represent one of many potential soulmates?

You see so many faces in the crowd
And you will never memorize

The shape of their eyes, the cut of their jaw
The fine, light pattern of stubble on chin
Their broad, wide noses, the hue of their lips
The length of lashes on pale eyelids

Indeed, I hardly see them
They just passed me by

On the street, in the shop, in a nearby car
And never again will their being I recall
But my dreams remember you, fair stranger
And in my dreams you are my all

Introduction

Composed  ‎2 /13/13
Description: Another lit art’s mag hopeful. It’s strange; I wrote this almost exactly a year ago, and here I am looking at it again! When I wrote this, it was originally part of a “100 Themes” challenge. The theme was “Introduction.”

She remembered Frank’s words.

You know, they say people make first impressions in as little as half a second.

Half a second. That is how long it would take to decide her fate.

The sequins on her red, fitted jacket burst forth in sparkle as the strobes flashed. She barely had time to catch a glimpse of the man in the long-tailed suit coat throw his hands up and jump into an exuberant stance of victory before the fog machines released another cloud of red and purple smoke. Confetti in colors of the rainbow rained down from the balcony. The audience’s roars were deafening.

He was good. He had tigers. How was she supposed to compete with that?

Thalia tugged on her stark white, elbow length gloves, the only object visible backstage. She gulped and glanced down, focusing on every crease and imagining doves spilling out of her fingertips.

Her heart was beating faster than it ever had. It all culminated here. If she failed, it was over. She had been lucky to get this five minute slot; so many other venues had refused her. Frank, the owner’s son, had only given her this chance – one chance he said – because he’d wanted to take her out to dinner. If she failed, there would be no way he could convince his father to let her have another try. She’d have to drag her feet back to Romano and meekly accept his offer.

Thalia shuttered as she imagined joining Romano’s league of sleazy showgirls. That’s not what she wanted. That wasn’t her dream. Her dream was to make her own way in the world, to do what she loved – magic.

Her guardian had been a lover of magic, and that kindly old man with the wrinkled hands and pale blue eyes had her entranced the first time he pulled a flower out of her ear.

All at once she was in a small, cozy apartment, spread out on the ugly blue and green rug with the tattered edges. She squealed in glee as she picked out a two of hearts and the man nodded.

“I’m going to be a famous magician one day!” Thalia announced with the kind of happy arrogance only three year olds are capable of.

“You certainly are,” said that man in his warm, wispy voice. He was smiling. “And you are going to make me very proud.”

The ferocious roar of a giant cat, and then the audience, broke Thalia from her daze. Her black eyes narrowed, and her slender hands clenched. No, magic was not just a way to make a living, not just a passion to her; it was also her sole connection to the only person she had ever loved.

She would do this. She would live her dream.

The slender man in black took a bow. Only seconds now. Seconds until her name was called.

And then half a second. Half a second in which the audience decided her fate. Half a second would determine her future, her survival, her pride. The loudspeaker squeaked; an announcer called her name.

In a half a second, her whole life would change.

She stepped onto the stage. They cheered.

Flow

Composed 11/??/13
Description: I wanted to see what would happen if I just sat down, picked up a pencil, and wrote a whole poem without stopping, without thinking about it too much.  That’s where this poem came from. I wrote it probably in less than 10 minutes. I was extremely pleased with the result!

Stream of consciousness
Let me flow
Take me where I want to go
Fly me over the hills
And grounds
Where all my secrets
May be found
Take me to those
Unique places
In my mind
Between the spaces
Where dreams take hold
At twilight’s peak
Where my lips and
Fingers can hardly speak
Stream of consciousness
Let me flow
So I might share
What I don’t know

Dreaming of Freedom

Composed 12/5/13
Description: This was originally composed for wdbwp’s poetry prompt Dream States. This prompt told us to pay attention to our dreams that week and to compose a poem based on what we remember. Though I composed this piece on time, I am horribly, horribly late in posting it. (Thank you, college.) Nonetheless, I was impressed by the imagery and symbolism my dream contained.

I think this dream says much about my current attitude toward romantic relationships.  I have recently been noting how draining  romantic relationships are.  Honestly, being single is just so much easier.  There’s not as much emotional strain — you don’t have the stress of wondering if he’s “the one” or if you’re doing things right — and you don’t have the time commitment! Your life is just so much more flexible.

Though I think this poem contains a deeper element as well, perhaps illustrating how I view my romantic past, the decisions I’ve made, and how I’ve coped.

He holds out a contract to sign
Marry me he says
Robot body guards hold me in place
And I almost consent

But flashbacks bring reality
And I crash my fist
Into the robot’s glass head
And wrap my fingers around the crucial chip
Ripping it free

The robot crumbles
And I flee in the chaos

I load up my escape pod
And use the chip to power up
Launch
And out into space I fly
Smiling
Truly smiling
For the first time in awhile

And I land
On a planet of Japanese gardens
And polished wood bathhouse floors
And I rest
Satisfied
In the beauty of sunshine
Peering in
Through sliding screen doors