Craving for rigor
Binge-watching “Crash Course” for days
Grinding for that “5”
Long runs and small breaks
Dreading when the clock strikes three
End is near yet far
The candle stands on the dresser.
Surrounded by mundane items
Dripping in wax, it strained to
Bring light to the fine print engrained
On the worn diary until it flickered
And finally blew out.
The days are brighter,
The leaves finally green,
Rain in place of snow
And scurrying bugs and critters.
What I see is new
But seems hidden deep in my memories.
Coming out now I feel
A slight and wonderful
Release.
Escaping from the constraints of four walls
Relishing in the sweet, intoxicating smell of Spring,
Burning in the hot rays of the sun
I am able to break free,
Away from any screen
I can see the world through my own eyes,
Looking toward the skies, it’s clear
Winter is over, here comes
Spring.
I dream of the dusty mountains ways away. I wonder if they look the same after all these years. To see the burning sun and get the chance to reintroduce myself after all I’ve grown. I want to paint myself in the colors of the sky, but I’ve grown weary waiting in the grey that surrounds me.
My memory has dulled what made it the most beautiful.
I’m afraid I’ll forget its name, or for it to become a muted image in my mind.
Stuck trapped on a fence between my interests and my cynicism. Maybe in old age, I’ll visit again, but time passes so quickly here. There is no use trying to reinforce tracks that won’t stay. I’ve made them too strong against the ways of the world. I was told to follow the future everyone seeks, but I am too stubborn to follow that cycle into death. Instead, I choose to call out to no one, cracking my neck to watch the stars. Please don’t forget me, as I once did you. I settle for watching you in a quiet space with closed eyes. I lay on the mountains, shining alone amongst the vacant sky.
wait for the days to come and go
when the rays cross
the breezy wisps across the sky
the moon murmuring in the night
wait.
life,
it’s almost a carousel
spinning, spinning, spinning
until it comes to
a grinding
halt.
wait.
wait for your youth to pass
let the innocence sting like a bee
the memories left behind
tick-tock, tick-tock
wait.
wait for the months to pass
the years to leave
the decades to come
the centuries to remain
time will pass
leave a Mark behind you.
Senior year. Those two words can bring back so many happy memories and fill your mind with happiness. I probably won’t be able to have those thoughts later down the road. This year is supposed to be my last of everything for highschool. My last first day of school, last football game, last homecoming weekend, last spirit week, last prom, and then graduation. I won’t be able to experience my last of everything and it leaves me feeling empty inside. I know that in this time of life there are more serious things going on, there’s a global pandemic, people are dying and we need to take these precautions to be safe. Yet, am I allowed to be angry and upset? Am I allowed to be selfish for just a few moments? I started my last first day of school sitting at my desk staring at my computer screen. This is not how I imagined it to be. I won’t be able to enjoy that feeling of sitting in the stands at the football game having the time of my life with my friends making long-lasting memories. The feeling of getting all dressed up in our dresses and tuxes and going to prom with our best friends, will I ever get to experience that.
I see the tree we planted, 10 years ago.
Back then it was just a young sap that clashed
Against the rest of the lawn decor
Against the green grass and tidy bushes,
He sat more like a thorn in the roses than the rose of our lawn
Over the years,
He’s grown bigger and taller,
Now, he stands out amongst his peers,
The other shrubs can’t compete with his buds and flowers.
I get a sense of pride
Every time
I look out my window.
I think it’s because I was there from the beginning,
I’ve seen him from the start
Back when he was barely anything
More than a little seed in the dirt.
Now, when the sun sets, I can see the way his petals glow,
Gleaming as they rain down when the wind blows.
I have to leave him behind now.
I don’t want to.
But I have to.
Now, I’m left to dream of the next time I see him,
In another 10 years,
When I look out my window.
the Water Warriors live in the caves of Kivia. It is said, by the gossiping wind, their caves lay behind a great waterfall. As told by the clouds, they possess an unmatched beauty and they glow ethereally. Their beauty comes not from their physical appearance, but from the light and power they exude. They do not keep flowers in their hair. They do not wrap themselves in linens and wool. They possess no gold or jewels.
It is said that humans first stumbled upon them 2,000 years ago. The Water Warriors were amused by these new creatures. The Water Warriors are not mortals. They resemble humans greatly, but they are not human. They do not keep flowers in their hair. They do not wrap themselves in linens and wool. They possess no gold or jewels.
They swim with the fish. They bathe in the rich sunlight which streaks the water. They laugh and hum and serenade as no one before them has been known to do. They feel much. They feel love and lust and trust and betrayal. They feel sadness and loneliness and amazement and confusion. They feel no pity and no remorse. Their intelligence has not been measured; as the waves were too meek and the stones had no system of measurement. We do know that they possess vast amounts of knowledge. They get news from the waves and gossip from the stars. They do not own books, rather they borrow them from the mermaids from time to time. The mermaids and the Water Warriors get along very well. They hold tea parties and soirees. They make up poetry and songs for each other. They love and laugh. But the mermaids can only visit with the onset of spring. Until the Sun’s turn in the sky outlasts the Moon’s, the mermaids are held at bay by a current; and it sweeps them away with the start of autumn. The fall of crisp red leaves creates such a tremor, that a small hurricane forces the mermaids home.
During Midsummer, the Water Warriors hold a big festival, as is their tradition. They invite the faeries, the selkies, and of course the mermaids. They all talk and poke fun at the world, from humans to the Moon, but she always takes it lightly, continuously bathing them in her glow.
The Water Warriors live in bliss. They are as old as the seas, and do not leave their waters. They were created when first the Moon felt a twinge of fear, for no mortal may harm her with the Water Warriors as her defenders. They will outlive time and existence. They do not play by its rules. It is foretold, by the eastern winds, that when they see fit, the Water Warriors will cease to grace the wondrous seas. They will instead become the mist that clings to every mountain, that cleanses each valley when the inhabitant’s intentions lack purity.
There have been whispers, that a fog is beginning to roll over the hilltops.
Butterflies soaring
Fluttering their social wings
Flying very free
I’m a one-off, Sagacity:
Empowered
Reinvention
Brash
Vamps
Vaunted
Mavericks
changed
metamorphosis
Found poem from “On That Bombshell Billie Eilish Cover for British Vogue“