Tag Archives: life

I’m Back!

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I must apologize from the bottom of my heart. I have neglected this blog for several months now. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve neglected just about everything but my social life the past couple of months. That doesn’t make it better, I know. But I’m going to start making time for this, I promise.

I must switch domains for the time being. I actually pay for the domain http://www.behindcerulean.com whereas this one is free. I’ll be switching over to that site instead, but beginning New Years, I’ll try my best to resume writing a couple times a week.

For those of you who are still following, thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me. Happy Holidays, merry Christmaquanzakah, and I’ll see you after New Years!

My Role in the World

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If all the world is a stage:

Then I must be a bard.
Whispering sweet echoes
of words that never meant anything,
a fictional story from deceitful lips.
A promised tale of a forbidden kiss,
a song of glass shattered in cold white loss.
The quiet cooled, the coin my cost.
The whole world an audience
with clapping hands
or perhaps with scorn
for they don’t understand.
And scowls profaning cheeks
with soft pink blush,
shouting obscenities
that make me flush.

Then I must be an actress
with a painted face.
A smile, and tears
that I cannot erase.
A gown of gold, a crown of silver
in my hair,
and audience below me
without a care.
With other thoughts in mind
than who I really am.
Only eyes for the girl
that I must pretend.
And eyes for the man
that I do not love,
but the character I play
is written to must.

Then I must sing
with a sheltered voice.
Tempered too sharp,
feet without poise.
Words that mean less
than they do to me.
Because my audience
is too blind to see.
Heart on heart, I stand,
pouring out my soul;
if all the world’s a stage
then I must have no role.

Linger

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The way we kiss when caught in traffic,
the stolen moments I keep captive;
in memories, in soft-spoken dreams
come true.

The heart you hold in open hands,
the moment you start to understand,
I’ve never known a love
quite like for you.

The secrets we hold close between,
my soul for you, your heart for me.
A smile shared in silent-held
happiness.

The smell of you upon my clothes,
the parts of you that no one knows.
No other woman could
ever feel such bliss.

The moments spent in a little world
made only for us, by only word,
no intruders,
no one left to care.

The moments just after you have gone,
the lingered essence that still lives on.
And I desperately wish
that you could still be there.

Aside

Tomorrow, I begin school. Senior year. Celebratory, I suppose.

All the same, that means I am going to have a lot less time to do as I please. I will have homework to finish, and I’m taking a few AP classes so the homework will take longer than I would like. I’m going to finally begin the novel that has been running through my mind for months now, so that’ll take quite a bit of my attention as well and now that I’m finally off transplant house-arrest, I’ll have the chance to rekindle my social life and spend more time with friends.

So that leaves me with very little time to update, so I will be unable to post the two to three poems that I tend to post daily. I’m going to have to cut it down to just one a day, so sorry. I will however try my very hardest to keep at least one post a day.

On one last note, I was also vaguely considering beginning to write a little bit of flash fiction as an experiment. If you would like to see some of that flash fiction appear here on this site (or on another new blog all together), as well as excerpts of my novel, please leave a comment below to that effect.

Thanks so much for your support over the past few weeks! It’s been amazing to see the response to my writing, and I’d like to thank each and every one of you! It means the world to me to hear so many words of encouragement!

Noteworthy (Maybe) News

A Siren Song

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She stray along shorelines,
took perch upon stones.
Felt the warmth of the sun
bear down on her soul.
Stole strings of a harp song,
plucked chords of heart and home.
Spent evenings with men
and each morning alone.

Destroyed mentioned love songs,
created bad dreams.
Nightmares and sorrow
that came of the sea.
Drowned in the tears
wept by fish of the bay,
the men fall to blunder
and drifting away.

She captured forbidden
and vows beyond scare.
All but forgiven,
and lost beyond care.
Heartless beyond words
and guiltless beyond loss.
Had given her whole heart
for a treacherous cost.

And so tortured and beaten
by heart and by theft,
and swollen with sorrow
of her love lost bereft.
To compensate for her forgotten,
a wail like the wind,
and lured into darkness,
the legs of many men.

And drowned in the shallow
of waters inches high,
caught by the gaze
of a siren’s blind eye.
Captured by the song
that so entranced them,
and now and forever,
she will thieve them again.

Awaiting the Dawn

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Been standing here for what seems like forever,
yearning for the moment we might be together.
And the time upon us comes as no surprise,
though I wish I’d watched the sun set in your eyes.

Been watching the east for far too many days now,
waiting for the day you’ll pass my way now.
Shall I count the times that I’ve whispered your name now?
No perhaps, that might seem just a tad too much.

The panthers of the night have strayed from homes to join me
prowling on careful paws and eyes trained on the east.
Waiting for the dawn that we have sought for far too long,
and upon morning break, they shall finally leave me.

But until that moment that you take their place,
here beside me, waiting for you, they’ll remain.
The only chance I have for things to feel the same,
because the day you walked into my life, everything changed.

The Girl Who Held up Atlas

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He held up the whole world on sun-kissed shoulders.
Seeing nothing, hearing nothing.
Feeling nothing but the small ones
crawling like ants under his fingertips and flesh.

That he might protect them from what was to come.

That the ocean might still someday, on tideless waters.
That time might resume again, cold, and unaltered.
That children might sleep well at night with a home that loves them.
That no war might ever plague our world again.

He wished, and hoped, and prayed,
so that he might put the Earth away.

She had fought enough of this Hell-bound life.
She had come to terms with her reality
though, a rebel, she dare not accept
the constraints of her barren society.

She would not accept her world.

She held her arms out like a bird,
felt the breeze kiss her cheeks and lips.
Closed her eyes and took a breath
and fought not when her balance slipped.

She stepped off the side of the Earth
into the abyss.

And stars, like glittering monuments
and statues that watched quite adamant,
and scolded her for her selfishness
and burned and fell to banishment.

And the sun, the smallest, or one of them,
greeted her with warmth again.

His eyes caught the little one, as she grew,
taller still, until tall enough for two,
and taller and larger, grown from a seed,
until so tall that she could compete.

She looked so awestruck.

What was there here that she did not see
on Earth below, where she was meant to be?
How had she come to manage this change,
how could she be exactly the same?

Were all little ones like her?

She turned at the sound of his hastened breath,
gazed at him with her eyes bereft.
Felt nothing but sorrowful remorse,
for pity might wound the man, of course.

Pity was for fools.

He stiffened as she stumbled near
on infant legs that had brought her here.
In clumsy void she took clumsy steps
until there was no more space between them left.

She was silent.
And he was silent.

She placed a hand upon his face.
The lines of his age, she saw and traced.
The bridge of his nose, his cheeks, and lips.
And there she placed a single kiss.

His cheeks flashed red and a vibrant pink,
he might like this Little One, he began to think.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, soft.
He was out of place, his blue eyes were lost.
He was drowning without water, suffocating without air,
in misery from exhaustion, and the lack of someone there.

He could use someone there.

She wrapped her arms around his waist,
hugged him close, and expected to wait.
Spent less than a moment before returned,
the scars on his arms were fierce and burned.

He held her.

And the world did not fall, it continued to spin.
And the Earth remained in its orbit, day and night once again.
And it saddened him to know that it would move on without hin,
but he had found life beyond Little Ones and their sin.

Beyond heart, beyond Hell, beyond protection and loss.
He found his life without toll, without cost.

In the Little One whom he leaned on, not so little as before.
Changed, and she loved him, and she seemed now so much more.
Beyond stars and their eyes, beyond worlds that still spin,
Atlas had recovered his life again.

And she began hers.

She took his weight gladly, held him so tight
that he might not leave her, and she could keep him for life.
That she might be his Savior, when no one else was.
That he might be her Atlas, the only one.

That he might no longer bear the weight of the world.
That he might abandon his post and love her.

That she could be his Savior, for now and forever.
That she could hold him up, if he’d ever let her.

I did have a completely different version of this that I had planned on posting, but I decided against it. I thought it would need a rewrite before available for public (or internet) eyes. (If you want to see the original, comment something to that effect and I might post it beneath)

We all have that one friend who thinks he can save everyone. He (or she, I’m using he for now, because Atlas is supposed to be male) cannot stand the sight of others’ sorrow and would give up his life in a moment to help someone. These are the truly good people in the world. The ones that keep the world at peace. But what happens when Atlas grows tired? When he gets hurt? Injured? Heartbroken? He plasters a big fake smile on his face. His is the master of disguise, and would not, under any circumstances, allow anyone to see the truth. But he can’t just be that way forever. People who are close need to help him, whether he wants it or not. Because sooner or later, Atlas needs someone to protect him. And maybe you could be that person.

Trust me, it’s well worth the effort.

Still Burning Bright

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I awoke on the morn’
at such an early hour;
the sun had not yet taken her throne.
The souls of the lost,
and the burned, and the bright
watched me watching their unknown.
Millions of eyes in the wake
with wide open lids
that carry wishes upon heavy hearts,
to the beams into Heaven
to place at God’s feet
with a dream that they may find a new start.

But instead of silver chariots
racing into the dawn,
I watch the lone hole burned into the sky.
A darkening red, pink
and a crimson-colored tale
soaring across the worlds in my eyes.
And I think of the stars
most of which all gone now,
for so many millions of years in the past.
And I wonder of this one,
and what was his fate?
And how long was he able to last?

He burns so much brighter,
stands so much taller,
an unspoken pride in his blaze.
A pyre behind him
with a trailing veil of ash
and the stars that, for him, would part ways.
And his passion is stronger,
and his power is pure,
and he resembles a lion with a mane.
Announcing to his pride
that he alone, would be king,
and all others who oppose should be slain.

And I wonder, with fear
that he might dissolve,
the brightest fires always burn out the first.
I yearn for his words,
for his promise, his vow
that in a few million years he won’t burst.
That as I watch him now,
a million years in the past
he is not already gone.
That as I watch him now,
he is as he was
and he has not left the others to burn alone.

A small comfort to me,
that passion will not burn out
that love itself shall never be smothered.
That the burning star to me
is still passionately
burning bright for now and forever.

Well, the surgery went well (obviously, I’m still here, aren’t I?). Like I said, it was just a minor little surgery, and I was literally out of the hospital by about 10 in the morning. Which was pretty amazing really, and now my surgeries are ALL over! I’m so glad!

This is all about love, and the idea that love is not like a star, or a flame. I always thought it was interesting that when you look up at the stars at night, most of them are already dead. They are so far away, we are looking at the stars that are millions of years older, because that’s how long the light takes to reach the earth. And the saying goes that the brightest stars burn out the fastest.

Love is different. Love and passion that burn bright in the beginning do not necessarily burn out the fastest. If it is true love, passion will never leave the relationship, and the love will never burn out. True love is nothing like a star, it’s eternal.

And Snow Falls From Her Sky

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She steps out onto the terrace,
and gazes at the sky.
Perhaps it shall uncover some truth this day
that since now, she’s been denied.

What is this world, why am I here?
she wonders with a sigh.
She asks in blatant amnesty
if she might know the reason why.

Snow falls again this day,
in the middle of the spring.
There is no sun, no moon, no clouds;
only forgotten things.

Like beams that come from nowhere
of light that may not truly be.
And darkness that comes without warning
any day, any night, suddenly.

And moments that last forever,
time stopped by empty words.
Promises of a beautiful place
beyond this snow-globe world.

And the case that now confines her
to a land she’d never been.
She places her hand upon the glass
and yearns for her heart within.

And the land above that spans her,
the lightbulb in the room.
The cat that prowls and watches her,
the flowers in the vase that bloom.

The fish that so resembles her life,
only palace is his home.
The dog that barks incessantly
when the Others leave him alone.

The mother that cries for her child’s loss,
she yearns to touch her hand.
To promise her she is still alive,
here, in this snowglobe land.

The father who is now a lush,
and spends days and nights in a vapor.
The sister who sleeps in the very room
where Snow Girl’s life feels tapered.

Her tiny fingers leave prints of dust
upon the glass held strong.
She yearns to hold herself again,
for she’s been here far too long.

Too long missing, too long gone,
in a world she should not be.
A globe of snow, shaken each day
and tortured by what she sees.

The mouse that crawls in during the night,
places his palm to hers.
Understands her entrapment
in not so many words.

Would release her if he could,
but cannot break the glass.
So becomes her companion
until the day that he is past.

And again, alone, in snow.
In house she can’t enter,
trapped in spring and summer and fall;
cursed to forever winter.

And so she sits upon church steps,
and watches her outside.
Is shaken again, and falls again,
and snow falls from her sky.

I was watching a rather strange show on Cartoon Network last night called MAD. I had never seen it before and I don’t plan to see it again, but it did bring up a rather strange idea. It gave a fake term of phobia for “the fear that if you shake a snowglobe you are ruining the lives of many little people inside.” It was meant to be funny, but I thought that with a little effort, I could change it to beautiful. And out of that came this.

On another note, I will be undergoing surgery tomorrow so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to post anything. I’m going to try my best to get something written tonight and schedule it for tomorrow but the last time I scheduled a post it didn’t pan out and I ended up having to post it myself. So we’ll see what happens. If nothing else, I’ll write something up while I’m in recovery on my iPod and post it that way. Of course, if that does happen to be the case, you’ll have to forgive my writing. It may not be amazing in my drugged-up state.