Autumn Ghosts

Composed 8/17/16
Description: For today’s Daily Prompt: Ghost. I have written about ghosts in various intensities many times (see some here and here), but this time it is inspired by some fears that have become particularly salient today.

as the leaves shrivel and
the breezes return the
ghosts slip through the cracks in waves and
rest on my shoulder
breathing fear onto my neck
their deep, raspy voices whisper doubts into my ear
suddenly
my body is poison
my mind a thundering electric storm
it’s all I can do to curl up hold on and
stop myself from retching all of me
I shrivel with the leaves
shiver with the breeze
but

not all ghosts are demons
with the light comes
color and some warmth
the waves of evil spirits halt and
the messengers gently descend on their beams of sunlight
and I remember
I have conquered this evil before
why else do they
feel the need to
scare me?

My Lips Fall Silent

Composed 1/11/16
Description: A very journalistic entry today. School begins tomorrow, but I feel as if the odds are not in my favor… 

my lips fall silent as
the worries bubble up
they dance on my tongue but must be swallowed
so they clog my throat and
my lips fall silent as I choke
on the thought of fresh snowflakes
falling on the morning drive
over ice
piling up and white and high
and if I live I am thrown into
unknown setups and time consumers
hours of work and broken pencils, stubbed erasers,
vague directions, and yearning, printers whirring
worthy learning but new and the drive and
my lips fall silent because
they stole me out of my comfort zone so
I am forced to roam in the cold and snow
while suffering from an ill-timed sickness
that bleeds me dry more swiftly than my mind
buzzing with thoughts that slide like the ice of
which I fret and stutter like my Internet
and are covered, muted by frigid white
that bites like change and money spent
on endless papers and graded judgement and
my lips fall silent

so many thoughts
where will they land?
I guess on the page
that’s the only place they can

After

Composed 5/12/15
Description: n/a

I feel so empty
After release
So much tension
Finally appeased
But what comes next?
What’s my true goal?
I now work for nothing
I shield a hollow soul

What happens when my tasks are complete?
What happens when I check off my list?
Expected tasks dutifully performed
I lack direction
Ignorant of my gifts

Freedom is my burden
Opportunity wasted in this life
I cling to established rhythms
Scared to color outside the lines

But now I feel so empty
When my day is done
I just hope there is a Plan for me
I hope I’m not the one only

In Vain, Perhaps, I Wait

Composed 4/22/15
Description: For Day 21 of NaPoWriMo.

All I’ve got are roots and stems
Grown in deep though I long to move
A few leaves pop
Practical, survival
There’s a few, small, budding blooms
Yet I fret
Have I watered enough?
Did I even plant in a suitable place?
I try to wait for those buds to bloom
But the frost is coming
So I sigh
And pace
Will I ever see rewards?
Color from the toil of my hands?
I fear the sun will never come
I’ll starve
Or burn

The Audience Effect

Composed 4/1/14
Description: After the ashamedly long hiatus I’ve taken, I’m taking the plunge. That’s right, I’m signing up for NaPoWriMo, in which I will attempt to write and post a poem for every day in April. I know this will be good for me; I have a lot of ideas, but I can’t seem to sit down and write them out. Thusly, this is a perfect way to force myself to get into the habit of writing with consistency. In addition, I just want to get better! It seems today good poems and poets have been thrust into my face, and, admittedly, I’ve been jealous. I want to improve myself. I want to be more observant and write more deeply. I want to feel like I am a poet. And while thinking these thoughts, NaPoWriMo fell into my lap. So I’m going to try.

I admit; the first verse of this piece I had written before today. In fact, it’s been sitting in my phone for months, probably. But, yes, I finally am finishing it (very last minute, I’ll admit). I felt that it was only appropriate to talk about one of the trials of poets for this day one….

The art’s forgotten
For the sake of the praise
The performance suffers
With the audience gaze

We write about buzz
That’s trending today
Worried no one will read
If our words dare sway

It’s hard to promote
My personal trials
While controversy
Heaps attention in piles

And we edit to keep
Our secrets inside
Or we conceal pieces
From subjects’ eyes

For if it was
Our soul exposed
A quick read though
And they’d all know

The character
Of my deepest being
And judge me for the
Things they’re seeing

But if it’s changed
Just enough
I can face judgment
With easy rebuff

Because that’s not me
It’s just a shadow
So the poem’s safe
It’s just hollow

Valentine’s Day

Composed 2/14/14
Description: This one is posted a little late due to the distraction of school and the posting of other things. However, yes, here it finally is: my certainly sought-after thoughts during Valentine’s Day this year.

I go to bed early on
Valentine’s Day
And yet I’m the last awake
Three others dream carelessly around me
Of twirling and gliding
Of adventures and meaning found in foreign lands
And of a future shared with one loved
And loving unconditionally

But I drowsily must wonder
Of what meaning my life holds
What loves can I embrace?
What talents can I give?
What joys can I catch?
For I have never known
And no one will tell me
This Valentine’s Day

Princess

Composed 4/25/13
Description: Something I’ve been wanting to write for awhile, but the words didn’t come until today. I suppose my trip back to fantasy earlier today inspired the metaphor I needed.

She’s a princess
With pink rosebuds woven in
Golden sea waves
That lap against
Bleached white shores
Adorned with jewels
That sparkle in the
Dark colors of night

She’s like sugar but
No one doubts her spice
She’s the music and passion
Of an approaching storm
The lightness and laughter
Of a gentle rain
And her laughter echoes
Off the mountains
And smiles come to those
Listening in the valley

But she’s cursed
A dragon lives within her
And possesses her at night
It scratches at her arms
Trying to escape
It burns her with its breath when
It doesn’t get its way

It fears her potential
The hope she brings
To her people
The power she has to rule

And no knight can slay it
No potion can kill it
It’s a demon she must fight on her own
But the progress she makes in the morning
Reverses when it appears at night

But I don’t know who the hero is
In this story
Who’s the one
Who’s meant to save her?
Recently I’ve been wondering
If it’s me
But what can I,
A lowly peasant, do
To save a cursed princess?

Only the power
Of one greater than I
Could inspire such
A needed miracle