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)