summer is supposed to be


full of fun and relaxing,


but here I am


running to and fro


with so much work to do

So, this is my terrible first and last attempt at a rhyming poem.

I asked you to come with me
to sail across the glittering sea
you smiled and took me by the hand
ready to depart this piece of land


We traveled to to the nearest bay
and then I heard you say
"return, when will we?"
I answered, "please patient be"


Many days and many nights
we sailed under the skies brilliant lights
'till finally our destination reached
so our little boat we beached


You stood in glee at what you saw
a land without rule or law
to run and be ever free
so won't you stay here with me?

Terrible, wasn't it.........

College

Well, I normally would have my poem for today posted by now. But seeing as how my laptop chose the worst possible week to break down on me, I haven't had the time or means to post my poem.

But thank goodness, mom has a computer that will facilitate my needs for now ;-)

Three days ago I finished school. Now that fact would normally illicit much happiness and relief from me, but the time comes with the tide of a lot of stress and other such troublesome things, so it wasn't as wonderful as I had hoped it would be. But, I am both amazingly exited and terrified to tell you, that I may be starting college in August. I previously wasn't going to start until January, but recent developments have taken that road elsewhere.

Proving that I pass the CHSPE, I will start college in August. I am fully confidant that I will pass said test, which means I have only three months of normality left........and I finally starts college in three months.

THREE MONTHS, what am I going to do!?

Now, don't get me wrong, I am so exited I could shoot into the sky and explode. But, I'm also kind of freaking out. I've been home-schooled my whole life, not that I think that's a bad thing, I loved it, but this means I'm on my own! Having teachers and professors, a giant library and even bigger campus, a huge track field and an Arts Building. I could go on and on, but I won't, save you from eternal boredom.

So, that's it...........wow, aren't I such an exiting person?

And I leave you with that.

If you emailed me right now

I would be too busy to answer,

but if you emailed me in a week

you would get

a three paragraph long reply

expressing my joy and relief

about how I am finished

with the teenage torture tool

called school.

Nobody told me

that getting older

would be so very hard,

and the only thing I can see

is the hard road ahead.

Standing in the middle  

                                                                 

of a lone, barren room,

tears silently escaping,

leaving tracks down my face,

all I want is a hug.

Hot, sunny days


turn to cooler days,


which turn to cold days,


which turns to


rain all day long

I Will Fly

Yeah, I may be a little fragile,

I am not the strongest,

I've got a few cracks,

but, I am me.

I have the strongest

of strengths 

here by my side,

and I am not going down easily.

these broken wings of mine

will be healed again,

I will soar and I will fly,

I will touch that bright blue sky,

Never Alone

Lord, how many times


must I stumble, fall and be in tears, 


before I learn


that with You by my side


I will never be alone.

Funny how a melody sounds like a memory......

I turn on the radio


and hear that old tune playing,


it floats through the air,


making me think of you,


and I smile

Whispers

That feeling in the air

getting closer and stronger,

a change is coming.....

as the wind carries whispers

of summer

Masks of Paper and Ink

 Hidden.......that is the status of many of my writings. Hidden......hidden away in a notebook next my bed, the ones that hold pieces of my heart, they hold pieces of me, those who write can understand this, I believe.

Sometimes what we write, it just wasn't meant to be seen by others, we pour our hearts out in a poem two pages long, beautifully written, but unable to be enjoyed by others, because for them to be read feels like a violation, as though someone caught you at your weakest moment when you fell flat on your face.

Pieces of our hearts get put into it, pieces of us, our dreams and our fears, the darkest corners of our hearts, a light shined upon them from our point of view, onto a piece of paper. 

The time we felt as though we were nothing at all, that we could turn to dust and be blown away by the wind, and no one would notice or care, the moment we felt such anger or hate, it tainted our thoughts before we felt ashamed. All these, woven onto a piece of paper in scribbles lines, written through tears or whispered through a smile.

The pain or the joy in your heart, fallen onto a sheet of white, held in a trembling hand. The emotion of the moment, fueling the words, more and more begins to pour onto the page, until finally............finally, it is emptied from your heart, like a poison cleansed from your veins.

Who could dare read these words? We keep them hidden for fear of what others may think, but why?

We are not alone in our battles, we are not the only ones who feel fear, regret, pain, sorrow, shame, anger........why can't others see what we feel, why can't others understand our fear, try to understand our sorrow, empathize with our pain? Why must we keep ourselves hidden? Hidden behind our masks of paper and ink...........

Because, we are in our writing, we pour ourselves into it, what you read from my hand, that.........that is me.

So now I look to my left, at the worn, doodled over notebook resting by my bed, the holder of my heart, the recipient of my fears and dreams. Why should this inanimate thing, this emotionless object, be the one to see my heart?

If you read the contents of my heart, what will you think? Will you feel sad, will you feel sympathy, will you experience understanding? If you read the contents of my heart, feel not less of me...... 

Shades of Gray

                                                                     

The days when we were young

with no fears or cares 

or worries,

no lines to recognize.

The world was full of color,

but now 

there are only

shades of gray

Outside the Line

Standing

outside the line

peering across

do I dare

step over?

Writing a Story

A half written story,
so much to plan and research,


Elven names, Old English Phrases,


formal greetings and insults,
who knew it took so much time!?




*True story.....pun intended

Sometimes the words

spoken in a moment 

of anger and pain

cannot be taken back

or forgiven,

the tongue

a weapon of the strongest

and most fearsome strength

will cleave the deepest wounds

                                                      

 

Here I am 

writing a song,

my heart laid bare

in a simple melody,

never to see the light of day

Cold day activities

Bundled up in a sweater,

school is finished for the day,

curled up on the couch,

headphones over my ears,

crocheting a blanket.

*Yes, I am actually crocheting this blanket, and it's folded

so it's actually three times that width....

Rain

Stepping out the door


peering past the awning


at the rivers of rain falling


a single drop drips down


now I'm staring cross-eyed

Music

Laying on my stomach

feet swinging in the air

headphones covering my happy ears

as my favorite music

plays way too loudly