Empty House

Every black line between wood 
is a familiar memory,
I always thought I'd like this house
but I never did,
I loved you, though, so that was enough.
Now its just me and the house
beating up on each others' insides.
And you don't even know how it feels,
To be two thirds of a whole,
without your favorite piece. 
When I leave I won't have the missing third anymore--
But I'll be half again.
This box of darkness never felt like home,
but you did,
And I'm guessing you won't come here either.


(written November 18, 2010)

Wild Play School Day

I have the strongest eyes in the world
I have green tides and pink waves
I have gemstones and silver shoes
                                silver pupils
                                silver toes
                                silver veins
The diamonds that float through my silver veins.
I hope I can swim
I hope I can drown
I hope my diamonds glimmer brightly.
I want a rainfall
I want a waterfall of green and gold
Some call me the lady of luckless love
You are the difference between real and mystical
What an interesting creature!


(written on November 12, 2009)

Pondering Again

Is this what happens when nature and nurture collide?
When pack mentality fights commitment-phobia,
and a search for individuality finds itself in a room
with a future image of a husband and career?
Do we all struggle through this battle?
Does everybody think before they leap?
And if they don't, who is better off?


(written October 25, 2009)

Sitting on Campus Thinking and Writing

Alone.
What I want to be
but only today
Only sometimes
not forever
because who wants to be alone?

Humans go to extreme measures
to not be alone.
Sometimes alone is better for us than together.

Have you ever watched somebody trade loneliness
for unhappiness?
for some reason
they feel better
they think they are better
But everybody can see they aren't
Or are they?

We fear loneliness
maybe more than
pain
Because it sticks
it feels like it could linger forever
that if we don't
shake it off
We'll be stuck
unhappy.

We are pack creatures,
But why?
the people I surround myself with
make me--
we are all recipes
of different parts of our friends
our families
our enemies
And isn't that a terrifying
thought?
Even the most solitary individual is defined
by what,
who,
he doesn't want to be
which is just the same,
Do people realize this?

I guess its a simple topic
but it seems so unexplorable
undiscoverable
over my head
one of those many thoughts
I feel around
and get discouraged by the depth of.

(written October 25, 2009)

Punch Line

Life has a way of tripping us up
and making us laugh
at the stupidity that is
ourselves
and our patterns
our beliefs even
and maybe our rules,
This happens everyday to everybody
and its the people that don't laugh,
that don't realize
their struggle is everybody's
that humans exist on an ever circling spiral
of repetition ,
We all feel the same
We all embark across the same themes,
it is those people that age into frowns
and tears
and self destruction
alienation
pity
and doubt
because those of us that realize we are just a punch line
we know how to push pain away,
We know how to love,
And why not?


(written 10/25/09)

A Pondering on Who You Think I Am, and if You'd Like Me if You Knew Who I Am to Me....

How does your mind rotate thoughts of me?
Do I look just like a girl,
any girl,
that walks by you
down the street
on an autumn afternoon?


If we met in the Summer,
dark hair wild and tanned skin exposed,
would you have watched me
as I cantered closer
and past you?


When I smile up at you from pillows
do you notice the white spots on my two front teeth;
and smudges of misplaced eyeliner from sleep?
Or do I glow to you,
lips full
eyes piercing
inviting you to smile back at me,
to care whether I laugh or sigh?


When you hear my voice do you wonder
what else is hiding
behind my words?


Do you think my touch feels different
than others you've had?


When we're living our separate lives
and you're reminded of my face
do you let it linger,
or ignore it?


What do you rotations say about me,
about you,
about "us"


Am I even me to you
or somebody else completely?


And what happens when my I
shows up in yours?


(written October 22, 2009)

Eyes closed and mind open
you came to me in a dream
What did you say?
Straining through time to talk to me,
your daughter.

You see me
half imagination and all grown
Standing in front of you
Finally
and it's good
Except I'm scared,
Guilty for fearing.

Maybe I asked,
has it been so long?
If only you could answer
not so long...
...not so long
And maybe you did.

When I left
how you must have tried to hold on
for dear life already lost

I'm sorry


I will dream every hour to find you
I will crawl deep into the sky where you stay
I will wait to see you again the only way I can

With my eyes closed and mind open.

Have you ever?

Have you ever been in love?
Neither have I.


Unless being in love is not only a willingness foreign to you,
but a yearning,
to give yourself up to one person
In a sacrifice of heart
And a joining of soul
In what you're sure will be the happiest turn of events in your
already Charmed life,


Unless being in love is doing something ordinary,
say driving,
When all of the sudden the music is grabbing your cheeks
while the pavement melts away from yellow stripes,
into a Globe of cloud-dusted hemisphere
And the wind-scented highway watching your insides jump out of your body with joy,
All because the words you sang made you picture his face,


Unless being in love is the most
salt-bearing,
tearing,
helpless pain
that drags your usually happy spirit under the current
and beats your limbs beneath slimy rocks,
and drowns you slowly
as your lungs fill and burst,
and drip of the the cracks of your eyes
When he breaks you.


Then
I have.


(written September 14, 2009)

2 Short Poems

There are rainy nights,
There are drops of dew on the paper,
There are places I haven't gone
and never will,
There are people I've lost
that I'll never meet again.




There are chemical reactions that control me,
I am a machine,
I am a series of systems that don't know how to break
But I am broken,
I have come so far and backwards,
I have wrecked the redness of my heart,
I will crack you and only feel bad enough to forget in a week,
because I am just a function,
Moving through, trying to build,
And you erased yourself from my thoughts in a moment.


(written September 16,  2009)

Bite

In my mind
there is a mosquito bite.
It itches when I least expect it and
gets sore at my too rough
touch.
It teases me with
its scabby face,
and bleeds when I think it is finally
healed.
When it is gone, I forget
where it was,
No matter how inflamed it was
or how many midnight minutes it kept me from sleep.
Because now there is another
Bite
that drives me crazy
with itching,
And its even bigger than the last.

Long Time Gone... but Worth it??

So a number of things have happened in the past two weeks that have caused me not to update my poetry every weekday like I had been.
1. While still in Alabama, I realized that I needed to find the poetry I had written in Dr. Eklund's class- rough drafts and all. I knew that the notebook/binder/folder was somewhere in Loveland, Ohio. Not an easy fix from 500+ miles away! I decided to wait until I got to Ohio to find them, and then continue posting new poems from there.
2. My grandma got really sick. I don't really feel like going into details, but it was very emotionally tiring and time consuming, so it was obviously more important to spend time with my Meme and my family than to find my long-lost-poetry. But believe me, it was on my mind. Even after finding it, I didn't have much time to sit and choose poems to post and to dilly dally on the internet. And even when I had time, I was just sooo drained that I couldn't bring myself to do much of anything productive.
There is good news in all of this. Not only did I locate my poetry (as I have mentioned above) but there are some GEMS hidden in there that I never even pursued, so I am really excited to start getting some of it up here!
P.s. I know that all of you who read this probably already knew what was going on and weren't terribly concerned about my blog, but just in case there is somebody else out there that has been checking in, I wanted to make sure I explained :)

August 31, 2009


My body is a newly spun cocoon
holding myself
as I Transform,
Meaningless on its own,
Empty eventually,
Powerful always.
The insides crawl and wrap,
Swallowed by Learning
and Life,
Hoping to emerge Better than before,
or maybe just Different,
but never,
never,
the same.
I won't emerge without growth,
unless the cocoon fails me--
Unless I Fail myself.

The Dark-Haired Girl

The dark haired girl,

Standing up in front of,

In the middle of,

Surrounded by,

People she hadn’t known.

A dozen eyes watching her

As she put her hand on him,

And her trust on him.

And then

The dark haired girl spun

Slowly

Around,

Chest to chest,

Embarrassed,

Happy,

Heart bustling.

The couches stared

From every direction,

As she looked past him only with eyes closed.

The dark haired girl,

She knew this was a moment

To tell

In voice

And pen,

As she listened,

Scared,

Excited,

To the song in the background.

Alone with him

Until the others stood.

Then the dark haired girl was relieved

To not be watched

To be joined

To step away from his touch

Into one more playful,

More clumsy.

The strangers smiled,

Assuming lies,

As the moment was lost

On purpose

On accident.

The dark haired boy,

He had wanted a moment

With her,

One to be told

Or kept

And he had smiled

While he spun,

At his fortune,

At her.

And now the dark haired girl,

She looks back,

She remembers

With her pen

And never her feet,

And she wishes she would have known.


This poem was typed in January of 2010, but I believe it was first written in 2009. This is another poem with rough drafts in another state.

Angel Once

I was once an Angel,

Gentle and kind

Honest and safe,

Made in a mind

Existing in a heart-

Until angel-me was lost.

Now she lies alone

In the still woods

Visible to only two,

Bleeding slowly

From everywhere and nowhere,

Her body limp

On a dirt ground,

Her face still lovely

Except for the hurting

That shines from her eyes,

Staining red-brown leaves

With tears of silent strife-

Still too much love to hate.

The only human

Who would not cry out

At the sight of this mangled beauty,

Who could reverse this purity turned tragedy,

Is the one that made her,

Lost her,

Then stopped looking.


(I apologize for not knowing the exact date of this poem. I am getting a draft off the computer that I worked on in February of 2010, but the original draft is in Ohio. I believe this started in 2009.)

Happy Birthday Theresa

It all started in Morehead's English Department...
Over time we became the two biggest T.O.E.'s of a slowly disintegrating foot--
With you in class
I always had a partner in crime,
"When I was in England I..."
"Let the bodies hit the floor," whispered in my ear,
"raaandomm." <pat pat>
You were my clinic buddy,
each of us dragging each other up the stairs,
caring more about each other than ourselves.
You kept me from passing out--
pure magic by secrets.
I learned to hate the tall evil darkness and his awful bike,
waiting for the day you would knock it off its rack.
You know I'd never tell ;).
We grew into poetic souls
listening to the great man-muse and lounging in red leather.
Our life source was ground & brewed Fuzzy Ducks--
2 for you, at least, and 1 for me if I could stop jittering.
And, oh boy, how much we struggled when we had to fly with the comets everyday.
Thank goodness we had each other.
Thank whoever that we all have you!
You may be the only human being who cares more about her friends than herself-
really and truly, you do.
And all we want is for you to love yourself more.
You deserve to.
Now, enough with the mushy stuff,
its time you finally get to drink and be merry, youngin'!
Happy 21st Birthday, Theresa!

written Sept. 23, 2010

Thoughts on a Greyhound through Australia

In school, a month passes 
in one car ride
and two lectures. 
The parking here and there,
walking to and fro,
eating, sleeping, maybe drinking,
and the next you know its December;
finals and snow are coming
to bury you.
Monday, Wednesday, Friday
and Tuesdays, Thursdays
turn into
March, April, May--
Is it graduation already??
And a year older!?


A new bed every night,
A new town every other day,
it does something to time.
An awareness?
A necessary attention to details
easily and happily ignored when home?
Each hour creeps.
"20 days? That's all?" They ask
as if 20 days could never be enough--
these past 10 days were longer than last year.


I found the answer for the equation of never-ending life!
All one must do is be frequently uncomfortable
and most always unfamiliar
and open to fun whenever it arises.
(Missing home doesn't hurt your odds either).


written July 23, 2010

Wild Play Summer Day

The sun is lingering high,
still so hot
to move is unbearable.

I can't stop watching the bees,
a tiny mass of clover
and them,
hanging on white petals, off the sides,
pulling down
furry and fast.

If I watch long enough
maybe one will land on me,
and weigh me down.

Does everybody get mesmerized when bugs crawl on them?
There's a gnat on my leg,
crawlin' around,
like a little unaware friend
that I didn't have to work for.
I feel like a fly on the wall,
observing
tiny movements and parts.
free entertainment.

I saw a show once where villagers trapped millions of gnats in nets
and then mushed them into patties
and cooked them over fire.
Gnat-burgers.
didn't look as bad as you'd think.

I'd rather just watch.

For a few seconds I get to be a living thing's surface,
not just a part of its world,
but maybe my own planet.

What if our planet is just as mesmerized by me?

A lot has happened since you've been gone,
A whole lifetime has been lived
maybe two or three,
and those are only mine.
One day I graduated high school,
and in five short weeks I'll graduate college.
Oh, I met a boy, and another,
and a few I guess I could call men.
You may have liked one of them,
Maybe this one,
I hope so,
I'd like your approval.


I've grown a few feet--I think I might still have some inches to go
(wishful thinking),
I've flexed smile muscles billions of times,
I've cried buckets of tears (not a tenth or hundredth as many as those smiles- promise).
I had braces once,
well, twice kind of...
I think.
I've gotten pretty drunk
but I've never gotten sick 
or blacked out,
You'd probably think it was pretty funny,
Maybe you'd be mad,
I think you'd laugh even if you worried.


I went overseas and I'm going again,
I think I'm figuring out my dreams,
They may change.
Somewhere along the way I became a little bit of a hippie,
Maybe I would remind you of Mom,
or Yourself.
I've read so many books,
one of them was yours,
its one of my favorites,
I'd like to talk to you about it.


I've had my own apartment
And a house, too, 
My roommates are great,
and I'll miss them when they're gone.
I've made so many friends,
I've lost a few, too,
but I try to keep my life balanced-
or happy- or free of negative influence.
I think a lot.
I think I've got a lot of things right,
do you agree?
I know you watch when you can,
I like to think you do.
I think about what happens afterwards a lot,
One day you can tell me if I was right,
but I'll already know.


I've done so many things, I don't know where to start or stop.
I think most importantly I've loved,
all kinds of ways,
and people love me, too.
I know you do-
I send love up there,
I'll try to remember to send more,
I'm sorry if I haven't given enough.


I try not to think of the times you've missed,
Does it bother you, too?
Do I have a right to cry over you even though I barely knew you?
Maybe I cry for you
and not for me.


It's about to storm outside and that makes me happy,
Do you like thunderstorms?
By the way, I'm saving a big hug for you
and I have a tattoo to help me remember.
Forever Things.
Well.
I guess that's all,
I miss you,
I love you.
You live on in our hearts-
I hope its a happy place to be,
Dad.
(I just like to say it sometimes)
:)


written April 5, 2010

...

TO BE IN LOVE IS TO KNOW YOU WANT TO SPEND YOUR WHOLE LIFE WITH ONE PERSON, NOT BECAUSE THEY'RE FLAWLESS, BUT BECAUSE YOU LOVE AND RESPECT THEM ENOUGH THAT YOU LOVE THEIR FLAWS TOO, AND YOU'RE SO CERTAIN THEY'RE WHO YOU WANT, YOU'D MAKE A VOW TO THEM THIS SECOND FOR FOREVER.


(written Feb. 13, 2010)
<3

Sitting in a Meeting

I sat and listened,
well,
half-listened,
and I realized how god damn selfish I am,
but I didn't feel bad about it.
Which is kinda funny because doesn't that reinforce the fact that I'm selfish?
Is it bad that I don't like doing anything
other than the thing that I actually
really want to do at the moment,
and what I want at this moment is a shower.
Thats all really.
I can wait for a text or phone call here or there,
I can write while ignoring,
probably more-so than when I'm set-up to be writing,
(because isn't it fun to do what you aren't supposed to?)
And you know what else I want?
Food.
I'm starving and I want a shower.
Just the basics.
Instead of these extra, meaningless things we all tend to get ourselves tied up in.
What shit.
I have a terrible attitude today,
but that's just 'cause I'm selfish.
;)

(written Feb. 8, 2010 after a really long day when I was stuck sitting in a meeting I somehow got dragged to against my will- this made me smile, and still does, ha)

Wolf Eyes

Tell me,
tell me the way the wolf
walks through the newly fallen
tree-death.
If only I were to be there,
standing under some shining moon
on a lonesome Autumn night,
my heart pounding only for myself.
One.
Unaffected, except for the capture of prey
and only if I'm wanting,
this partnered tale,
this coupled trail,
this pathway pace
would not be mine.
           I wish to be wolf eyes--
           beautiful and cold.


(written Jan. 28, 2010)

Self-Motivation

The more you do what you want
the more people are upset
you're not doing what they want.


How do we balance making 
ourselves happy and
keeping those around us
satisfied?
We don't.
Its their job to keep themselves
satisfied.  We all just meet up
in between taking care
of ourselves.


I am not responsible for
anybody else's happiness--
but I'd like to add happiness to people's lives
when I can.


If I do not directly hurt you,
it is not my fault that you are hurt.
Take responsibility for your feelings.


Be happy when you are living in the way you want.
Ignore those that are not happy for you.
They have growing to do.
So do you.
If you focus on their problems
you will not learn your lessons.
This will not make you alone--
at least not always.
If it does,
you've either grown way ahead of everybody
or have gone in the wrong direction.
This happens every day, anyway, and we never know which until the very end.


(written Jan. 1, 2010)

Death

his head hangs down
but ITs staring us in the face.
Stealing. 
family already partially in ITs grasp,
but then again,
so are we.
Speeding against will,
feet pressed against the only
surface that can't help them to stop
(we're helpless
and it hurts).
As everybody, and the mirror,
wilts into grief-
we should all walk in a daze-
its too gradual,
but we know,
and he knows
ITs coming.


Time became my enemy today
when I realized She's been stabbing me in the back all along.


(written Dec. 20, 2009)

Nature's Navy

I am torn and tired,
a leaf-boat stuck gliding down the creek
with twigs as my passengers.
The water is clear and trickling,
the rocks are flat and heavy,
           and I am green-
           full of stress and wanting more than anything to stop,
           to turn around,
but the current is softly pushing me and
Me being just a leaf,
its steady trickle is enough to tip me.
But I don't want to drop the poor twigs
they can't float on their own.
Or can they?
Maybe I can't stay upright
without their weight.
Maybe water would feel good
pushing me under.
It may be nice to capsize.
At least it would feel new.
but I'm scared to sink,
I'm scared to drop my passengers-
and I can't even steer.

(written Dec. 5, 2009)

IRR

IRR

A man sits on a bench
quiet and somber,
in a horde of hugs and withheld tears
he is wrinkled
and alone.

Women adjust their faces,
pulling up their frowns
like blouse sleeves
readying for holding in fears,
and raising

babies against shoulders
as awkward footed tots
look broken eyed
and lost
while Daddies get their goodbye kisses.

The soldiers mill.

Battles Rage.

and for the first time since boots

and flags fell

on angry sand

I cry.

For those already carrying bills we, the indebted, 

can not

and will not pay,

who wish to rip velcro names off worn uniforms
heavy helmets off shaved heads
our tanks off deserts,

I cry
for those who are too loyal
too courageous
for their own preservation,

            And for us.

and I send out a message: 

                                          This war is terror

                                             on beliefs,

                                                 citizens,

                                                    Love,

With hope it won't take losing

my lover,

and your young men

in arms,

to realize This.

*Original draft written Dec. 2, 2009. This draft was combined from two other drafts just tonight. This poem has been one of the hardest to get exactly how I want it, and although controversial, it is also a favorite of mine. Please help me workshop this piece*

Vibrant

I am vibrant today,

wilted and fading fast—

in pieces,

jaunting,

Blue around the edges

still Red at my core,

the two

probing

then warring,

blasting

into melting

with each other,

but I am brightly falling,

I am failing

and filling with

salty washes

of the creeping,

smoking

changes—

transformation,

metamorphosis.

All those pretty words

that aren’t so

elegant

in practice.

that is what I am—

drowning in the mixture.

(written Nov. 14, 2009)

*I wrote this in a workshop at the Writing Eastern Kentucky Conference with one of my professors, Mr. Eklund. He had us look at paintings and write what they made us feel or the story we felt they were telling. This was written from an abstract painting that I wish I could find to post with it.*

Reincarnation

what is your maker?

the egg that hatched your nature

or the lives that influence your lessons,

from past plagues, murders, and

maybe affairs—

did you come from

states miles away

or some country centuries past

            have parts of us met,

            you as my teacher

            or me as your mother, enemy, or—

did all of you start

in that womb

with the portions of the two,

at the same time my two favorite lovers

started me

so that we, strangers, could grow separately into

what we have become

and are waiting to be,

for ourselves,

and possibly each other.

(original draft written Dec. 2,  2009

this revised draft from Feb. 24,  2010)

Care

Sit in my hand, and
I promise I won't
make you wind around
my finger,


You can just sit.
Your head resting against my
sapphire ring,
and I will hold you.


You can fall asleep if you want,
or stand and balance
if you feel brave,
just trust that you can do whatever you feel
and I won't let you fall.


(written Dec. 2, 2009)

This circle outlined in unmatching and broken stones,
filled in with grass
and rusty chains, rubber, rings, and a steep metal decline.
This hill
backed by branches
and comforted with bulbs of heavier greens.
That wooden crumbling,
peeling and beautiful,
the landmark of innocence
and playing pretend-
Of a hand's skills and father's hugs
Lost
in one day.
This patch of ever expanding bamboo shoots.
This mattress of dirt and fern.
This spattering of planted scarlet memories.
A keeper of childhood.
the Only place that makes my chest echo with the sound 
of a past now unattainable,
of Home.


(written November 14, 2009)