1-17-02 The night will own me and set me free. And the moon will be full filling my mind with memories of rain dancing birthday cake. A tug on my braid. Intoxicating words in the magical way that only you write. Take me flying on wings of wind and we will circle the moon land home and plan the next adventure. 11/5/01 Words drift by rapidly forming lines glimpses tastes of poetry. And try as I may I can no longer catch them hold them help them evolve grow change. I have forgotten how to move the spinning whirling glowing images from loosly formed thoughts onto the paper. Out of practice. Lost the magic. Begin again. 8-8-01 Just another wallflower, another nameless face in the crowd. No one remembers, no one writes to, no one calls the invisible nobody alone in the corner. One day the wallflower blooms and blossoms into a lovely young woman with glitter in her hair and a sparkle in her eye. Now she treasures her friends more than anything, because she remembers what it was like to have none. She delights in handing out compliments, because she remembers how it felt to believe that she was fat, not pretty, unloved and unloveable, because no one bothered to tell her otherwise. Like the ugly duckling who turned into a swan, she changed from something unwanted, into something beautiful. The wallflower is all but gone now and still no one remembers her. They see only the swan who took her place. But the swan will never forget. 7-28-01 Walking along one fair day, confident and strong. Then, there you are. Happy, laughing and beautiful. And suddenly I'm falling. Falling gracefully in a glorious downward spiral, picking up speed as I get closer and closer to the ground. And I ask just one thing of you. Catch me. Catch me as I fall for you. 7-25-01 3am. Almost time for bed. But before retiring to the warm dark comfort of sleep, the girl steps outside onto the balcony and searches the heavens for the stars, and most of all, the moon. But alas, the sky is empty, the moon and stars hidden in their blanket of fog. And so, disappointed, the girl goes to bed. And her lullaby to the moon, but most of all to you, is left unsung. 7-15-01 Slowly, sadly, alone I walk, dragging my feet through the day. Then suddenly, happiness springs upon me, and I soar like a bird, singing just for the pure joy of being alive. I know I can't fly forever. I must come back down. Back to the dull lonely days. Back to where nothing ever seems to change. And the longer I fly, the harder I fall. But I quickly forget the crashes, remembering only the glorious flights. And so I go back home to the day to day life, and begin preparing to soar again. 7/10/01 A haiku Writing while cooking can result in neglected or overcooked food. 7/10/01 I am empty without you. When you left, you took half my heart with you. I can't ask to have it back now. It's as much a part of you as it ever was of me. What I want is for you to come back. But I know you can't come. Not yet, anyway. So I try to go on with life. It's hard, learning to live with only half a heart. 7/1/01 The days, weeks, months and years pass quicker than they ever did before. I will soon be thrown out into the world, probably before I feel completely ready. Such a huge change is a scary thought. The whole world changing so quickly. A part of me looks forward to it. Total freedom, and hopefully, an end to the lonelyness, that has become so much a part of my everyday life. To get out, and live somewhere else for a change. Live with someone else for a change. But there are so many "what ifs?". What if I'm not ready? What if I am ready, and I run out of money? What if I move away from my family and everything I've ever known, and become homesick and lost? So many things to be afraid of. But yet, so many wonderful things to look forward to. If things go as I'd like them to, I'll be moved out in a little over 2 years. 2 years isn't that long. It isn't that soon, either. I think it's just about right. I can be ready by then. Or at least, I hope I can be. written on PoetryMarathon That night she came in the door completely soaked, her eyes sparkling. We followed her outside, and all danced happily in the rain and the mud, a stroke of lightning lit up the sky, followed by the earthshaking sound of thunder. We held on to each other and stared upwards in awe, as the sky lit up again and again. 5/27/01 When I die don't put me in a box and bury me deep in the ground. I am not a seed, and I won't start growing underground, so why plant me? Throw me to the ocean waves. Let me become a part of the ocean, always in motion, yet always there. Don't have a long, sad funeral, with someone I hardly knew talking on and on about death and goodbyes. Don't sing sad songs mourning my departure. Throw me a party, with laughter and dancing. Tell stories about silly things we did together, or some crazy thing I did so many years ago. The day we spent skipping through the waves, the night we talked until dawn. Sing my favorite songs, the ones we'd always sing together. Don't wear stiff, black clothes. Wear your favorite shirt, your comfy shoes. And don't be too sad that I'm gone. I'm happy, wherever I am. Remember all the times we had together. I'm not really gone anyway. I just moved on.
5/27/01 All by myself, I Lay in my bed. Wishing Only for good company. Needing a friend. Yet, Even still, I am alone. 1/20/01 2:10am The pen floats across the page, leaving lines and curves and glitter in it's wake. What makes the combination of pen and paper so magical? If I make a mistake, it's there for as long as the book it's in. All the lines will stay where they are put. They will remain in glittery blueness. No erasing. If I erased, then how permanent is it? It's not. Just fleeting moments of thought, frozen on paper. Preserved, at least for now. 5/9/01 12:38am Love Love is having your heart feel so full of love and happiness that you wonder why it doesn't burst, and at the same time feeling empty because the people you love are not with you. Love is thinking of someone everyday. Whenever you let your thoughts drift they float to those people. When your favorite daydream is seeing them again. When a dream of them is so wonderful and perfect that you begin to cry when you realize that it's only a dream. When the thought of them makes you smile. When they're happy, it makes you happy. When they're sad or hurt, trying to help them, and if you can't help, worrying about them constantly and hoping they're okay. Knowing deep down inside, without a doubt, that if you fall, they will catch you. Knowing that they love you just as much as you love them. Being able to tell them anything and knowing they'll still love you. When the only thing that makes you cry is saying goodbye to them. When the thing that makes you happiest is dreaming of when you can see them again, or thinking about the way they were when you last saw them. Knowing that if they fall, you must catch them or fall with them. That's love. 5/9/01 1:30am I'm afraid to fall. If I fall and there is no one there to catch me I'll hit the floor. And if I hit the floor, I'll shatter. Like a porcelain doll dropped on the sidewalk. I've been dropped before. Several times. I didn't break before. Just picked myself up, and dusted myself off. No outward signs of damage. But if you look close enough you'll see. You'll see the tiny hairline fractures. You'll see where I was dropped and not broken, but made a bit more fragile with every fall. So hold me tight. If I start to fall, catch me. Whatever you do, don't drop me. Don't let me slip through your fingers. I'm not as strong as I look. Wow! This sounds silly, but I didn't know you wrote! I am very impressed. Mwah. - Emma
Kathleen, those are beautiful! I absolutely love the one your wrote on the 9th at 1:30am, the imagery is gorgeous. Write more! ~Becky~ kathleen, you are one awesome writer. that haiku made me laugh! and then the next poem almost made me cry... many hugs and keep writing and posting!! NBTSWikiWiki | Recent Changes Edited 23 times, last edited on January 20, 2002 by kathleen@nbtsc.org. © 2000 NBTSC Webmasters |
