Tag Archives: poetry

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!

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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?

A Batch of Pretty Little Photos

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I have never once posted a photo on this blog. Why? Because I believe that my words satisfy the human need for imagery. Personally, I think words far better describe a scene than a picture ever will. A picture leaves so much unknown. Why is this woman crying? Or who is this child? Or was this sunrise or sunset? Words are precise, and when used correctly, can give such a vivid emotion to the scene described, no picture can compare. Words leave only what is desired┬áto the unknown, and that may be justified by the readers’ assumed imaginations.

And yet, lately I’ve been getting more and more into pictures. I’m not a photographer by any stretch of the imagination. But when I get lucky enough to catch something beautiful, I feel the want to share it.

So I figure I can share it here, if it matches the emotion described in the poetry I post. In that light, I shall begin to post photos if only for my own use┬áto keep me using my camera and improving. I won’t post it in everything. Just where it is needed.

Perfect

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In a translucent world,
tattered by shimmering expectations
glittering too cold, too sapphire sought.
Another devastation wrought.
Believe in more than what could be,
and yet you are perfect to me.

Destroy another, if you will.
But if you please, I see no ill.
Flawed to a fault inside your eyes,
but through my gaze, I spy another life.
Rose-shaded tint, perhaps this is so,
but need you more than tinted love?
If say I, believe I am true,
there is no man more perfect than you.

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.

I Am a Stone

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I am a stone.
Crashings of the waves
beat me barren and raw,
wear me into abyss,
as if I wasn’t here at all.
Until I am a pebble.

And by moon of shame,
the tides flow above me
and through my veins,
and the very essence of the girl I am,
thieves that word I once called my name.
Just a pebble, now.

Until I am no more at all.

And whispers of a stream,
through crevices and cracks,
rivulets of siren tears,
drowning dirt and grass.
But receding back,
with threat in heart,
and home left sole.
Costly memories,
too lonely to forget.

I am a pebble.

And when boulders and shoved above me,
and the ground is
no ground at all.
When I am caked in mud
on every side,
unable to move,
but unable to fall.
As time wears on,
and no less cold,
than an arctic tundra.
Here I am again.

I am a stone.

And here, beneath the surface.
Strong and below the water.
Untouched, underwater.
Drowning beneath obligation,
set forth by preparation,
I am stone.
And unmoving.

Shatter me ten thousand times.
Destroy me, I suppose.
It makes no matter anymore,
I shall wake once again,
stronger than before.

Wear me away with your tide
and ocean,
Freeze and breathe into me.
Beat me into pebbles,
and then there shall be more,
feed your ego and insecurities,
just as sad as before.
Will you never change?
Will you never grow?

Thousands and millions of years
you may torture.
Treacherous foe, I bow to no one,
find me companions, leave me alone.
Makes no matter.
I’ve thousands of years, millions,
to be whole.

And you?
A hole.

And anchored in my place.
I live on.

A debt of gratitude for you,
because I am stronger without you.