Tag Archives: optimism

Let’s Give it All

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Let’s pretend, just one moment,
give me a moment
in silly fantasy,
pretend that nothing ever happened,
pretend you always
loved me.

Let’s pretend that there was no one else
as if the world
was barren.
Let’s give it a moment and pretend
that we are now
the two that we have always been.

Let’s give it a moment, spend it a wish
give us a chance to believe everything but this.
Give me a chance, let’s pretend we don’t know,
there was no past, no before.
Let’s give it all.

Let’s pretend
that we were
who we are.
Because who we are,
is perfect.

Even if only to us.

Anyone Out There? (No More Star-Crossed Teens)

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Is there anyone out there,
unbroken, outspoken
with a smile on her face?

Is there anyone still out there,
who’s breathing and living
with every memory sacred of every day?

Let there be
a heart.
Let every song be heard
and harmony so sweet.
Let every moment be
a start.
A beginning so beautiful
that one cannot help but believe.
Let there be
an ocean,
to swallow every sorrow
that we leave.
Let there be
the moon,
by which the dawn may shed light
on every last star-crossed teen.

Let there be no more star-crossed teens.

Is there anyone out there,
with unwavering optimism
that this will all turn out all right?

Is there anyone still out there,
with a heart on her sleeve
that she would give for a price.

Is there anyone out there,
who might pay cost of love
to love her where she stands?

Is there anyone left out there,
with the comprehension bold
that one might still understand?

Is there anyone out there?
Do you believe that this
could ever affect you?

Is there anyone still out there,
with the believe in love
past every torturing, heart-wrenching rue?

Surviving the Expiration

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Sometimes I wonder how I sleep,
with every moment captured in a dream,
haunting, tainting, captivating me.
Here I am.

Here we are.

I look upon you,
curious eyes.
How have we come to this?

I thank my God every day of my life,
whispered prayers He answered,
caught guilty in my selfish words,
but rewarded despite.

Might you take a moment to understand
that somehow you have taken me by the hand,
lead me to a different land.
Foreign veils of a new world.
How have we become those two?

They point when they see us.
We are privileged,
envied.
They are stolen by retracing steps,
and angry.

And riots of outrage,
must there be such turmoil?
We’ve not asked an opinion,
nor other emotions.
Must there be burning thatched houses
and poisoned wells
and cliff-diving resolutes
with frightful, furious spells?

Must there be a moment too soon,
where I may turn again to you?
May I not be always whole?

And on tongues sharp
with silver,
forks pitched in the air.
Why should this be so treacherous?
Why should anyone else care?

They told me
that this was temporary,
that you were lost to me.
That I shouldn’t breathe
a word more of your love for me.
They gave me a date
one, two, three, and more.
A date we would be torn apart,
and more broken before.

They spat curses of a silly monotony,
tedious to indifferent ears.
But how, why?
Perhaps, they’ve still not
lost those years.

And yet, gnawing at the back of my mind,
tearing slivers of my heart,
raking me with transparent claws,
their dates tore me apart.

They set fire to our hopes,
shot poison into dreams,
sent chills of nightmares into my darkness
and tortured me in my sleep.
Blinking lights
and heartbeat cry,
the thuds of a frightened child.
I listened, just so, tentatively
while they bribed, deceived, beguiled.

Am I holding on too tightly?
I wondered.

But this time, I’m looking up
face into the horizon.
My eyes cast amber by fires and pyres,
my skin dyed black by the ash.
But this time I’m vulnerable
and I’ll give it all,
if you just hold me still.

We outlasted the fire,
we cured the poison.
We kept strong as diamonds in coal
outlasted the words, and fought bold.
Here we are, less lost, less cold.

After months of preying plays on words
torturing to exasperation,
after they tore me into tiny pieces of myself,
we survived the expiration.

And now that I think of it,
we troubled not.

Heart of Void

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I have learned the wary, sentry stare
of a child lamb turned prey.
I have severed every accursed tie
to every foe that made me this way.
I have accustomed such a marvelous loss
that spoiled is so small.
I know not what bows of rain may come
or if they may dance at all.

And in golden petals of silver blooms
a mirror made shine of delicate legs
among bees and butterflies, and scent alike,
pollen crossed land on teardrop dregs.
Towering above a soundless night,
above clouds, watchful eyes: curious.
And perhaps, tinted with envy of costly endeavors
mentioned whispered ominous.

And puppet strings bound hands as chains,
held prisoner to sweet harmony,
sung soft by lips flushed pink, and swollen by kiss
and carried messenger by the breeze.
Into dark and cavernous hollowed cove,
strangled breathless by plush, green moss.
Devoid of knowledge or sympathy,
but lest also devoid of loss.

Heart tainted by unaltered love,
and echos the same sweet tune.
Void of all other emotions kind, and barren
of everything but you.

Never Neverland

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I woke up early one night, at near dawn.
Light was just off the shore, of lost causes.
I spent a moment without, so alone.
And gazed into the sky, sought for pauses.
And there above me hovered a boy,
a smirk wide and clear on his blushing cheeks.
He lifted me to the sky, in stories,
and rescued me from the future,  he speaks.
And brings me into a world of forever.
Burns the fires in holes left forgotten.
And torches of what we’d be together.
Flames of whispers of gowns in pure satin.
Never meant to grow up in Neverland,
I’ll spend my life with this boy, Peter Pan.

I’ve decided I really like the form of a sonnet, so in an attempt to condition myself to only use the words I need most, I’m going to start writing in sonnet form. I’ll give myself a week for this, then I’ll go back to freeverse. Time for a little experimentation.

Affair with a Lion

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Forgetful past of stolen soldiers
sought by hunters.
Perhaps a dance of blade and blood
and bone.
Perhaps forgotten, but untainted,
unaltered,
of soldiers, of hunters,
of death by stones.

And yet, naïve, and innocent,
and blissful to a fault,
I catch a whim, so close to home
that may be deadly to my heart.
But breeze and bronze
together in a crown
find me forgetful of my past.
And without fear, or even
acknowledgement
I continue to walk my path.

Into a den
of deep and dark
and bats hung by black walls,
and drips of drops
of tears from old
by stalactites they still fall.
Into a cove
of dark and dim
from which echoes loud snores
until the beast of king
of here
awakes and then he roars.

On soft white feet
child-and new
with mud caked around ankles dry,
I pad across soft,
smooth stone
and ask if I shall have life.

The bars have closed
behind me.
The boulders block my way.
Only forward
am I allowed
only here, and stay.
And blood stains on walls
and floors
and the lion’s maw,
and flesh caught bare
and tattered and torn
upon his claw.

And his deadly eyes
flash amber,
and his silent air
screams bleak
and my future with him
here in his cavern
seems less than I might believe.

And my innocence turned
black again
and heart captured in fear;
an affair with danger,
with a sauntered grasp
with lines to which I must adhere.

And my ashes
brought to surface.
And my face pallid
as cold ice.
And his golden mane
glows brightly,
and his eyes
mirror mine.

And I see the blood upon him
and the tears that lay below
and the gashes in his chest and paws
that were hidden by sorrow.
And the injuries that no other saw
for the hunters hunt him too,
the lion, so powerful, so strong,
hurt by selfish truce.

And the lion, so yet cold
to fight on every hunter near.
No one may pass, forbidden glass
shattered by deaf ears.

His amber eyes run me up and down,
suspicious of my stance.
Am I just another woman with a gun,
or will he understand?

With hesitant steps
on scarred-up paws
he treads across pure stone.
Gazes into my cautious eyes
and is suddenly less alone.
Places a paw before me,
a truce by any thought.
I take my hand, place it on his
and lose the past that I forgot.

And I am innocent again.

And he lays down
on cool black stone,
watching me with care.
I sit beside him,
lay beside him,
and somehow I feel him there.
I feel his claws, his deepened breath.
The smell of thick-dried blood,
hanging humid in the air.
I curl up beside him,
fingers in his mane,
a kiss to his forehead
and a smile with his name.
An affair with my killer,
the prey loves her hunter,
danger, and terror,
and folly-ful blunder.

And yet, my lion, so cold,
so distant,
alone in the world,
and I as his mistress,
his heart and his love
his silly little girl.

Finally starting to get back into the hang of things. Granted, I don’t think my writing is as good as it could be, I guess that’s what stress does to me, but I’m getting there.

This is mostly about the danger of love itself. Putting all of your heart into one person could very well kill you, and has before. But when you truly love someone, you become a child again, and take a risk. And sometimes, it’s worth it.

The Picket Fence Life

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His eyes are far away, in lands soft and dizzy.
His heart is miles lost, and to a fault less than leery,
he holds up in his hands the moments of doubt.
He tends to forget sometimes what his life is about.

In sunsets. In moonlight, in fireflies dancing
in dewdrops, in mornings, in the minutes still passing,
he frets that his life will fall to pieces on the floor
and I don’t know how to tell him, he need not worry anymore.

I wrap my arms around him, whisper in his ear,
“I will protect you forever, worry not my dear.
You are the stronger man in any woman’s eyes.
You’ll have everything you want, whatever you desire.”

I tell him of the days that I wait so anxiously for,
the opportunities he’s brought to me, the ones I’ve placed at his door.
The moments when we grow old, and the youth we have still now,
I kiss his cheek softly, smooth the wrinkle from his brow.

He will be married to a wife who’d give up her heart.
He will have the life of a king, she will hold close to the start.
She promises him everything, anything he wants and more,
she’ll give him her heart, her soul, whatever he asks for.

He will have children who are wrapped around his legs,
with tiny hands and arms, put them to sleep in tiny beds.
He will spend nights at home, happily content with peace.
He will go to sleep each night, and wake up beside me.

He will have power in the career of his choosing,
he’ll treat his coworkers well, without over-abusing.
He’ll trust his earnings into salary micro-managed,
he is a strong man, he will have his plan.

And when he is old and grey, I will still be beside him,
we’ll watch our kids get old, and we will still confide in.
We’ll still be the best friends we are, and a life still left unaltered
the love we have now will have grown yet still, and untarnished and unfaltered.

He listens to my tales of surreptitious pandering,
A smile finds his lips as he hears my senseless ramblings.
I’ve said all this before, but it still comforts him to hear
that no matter where he goes in life, I’ll still always be here.