Category Archives: Poetry

Intrepid

Intrepid

The black dog hunts me as I go
Catch me it will if I’m too slow
For if I drop my guard my foe
Will leap to kill with what I know

Disempowered I run, I flee
Monster must not catch up with me
I cannot face the facts and see
I am my own worst enemy

I’ve words to say what must be said
Now from my heart and from my head
For I’ll not go to where I’m led
But where the angels fear to tread

Black dog may hunt but truth remains
It’s I that cause myself my pains
The crazy thoughts that bring no gains
Are my own doing; homemade chains

I hold myself in darkest hell
Chased by the shadows fierce and fell
The spectre’s me, now I can tell
I have the means to make me well.

I’ve words to say what must be said
Now from my heart and from my head
For I’ll not go to where I’m led
But where the angels fear to tread

The tower falls, opens to sky
I spread my wings, know how to fly
Stars blaze above, my freedom’s nigh
With tears of joy I start to cry.

No more entrapped in fear, alone
The way to will myself I’ve shown
A path I should have always known
Through travel far has my soul grown

I’ve words to say what must be said
Now from my heart and from my head
For I’ll not go to where I’m led
But where the angels fear to tread

I’ve words to say what must be said
Now from my heart and from my head
For I’ll not go to where I’m led
But where the angels fear to tread

I go where angels fear to tread…

Version 2.0 03-05-2008

 

I want to rewrite this, but it has potential, for sure.

02/24/2014 Mini-Saga: Liminal

NSFW

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Poemlet that popped into my head this morning…

Mirror, mirror,
made of stone,
polished antler,
brass, and bone,
Tell me truly:
on my own?
Seated, silent
lifeless throne.

Poem: On Being An Adult, Sometimes

Welcoming reality
“bye, for now” to fantasy
“Hi, Responsibility”
not just what I want to see.

Poem: Awkward and Elbows

I’m not a 24-year-old woman
When she comes around
I’m instantly male
And 14
“Haha, you said hard”
And other such witticisms
Are all that emerge from my lips
I have two left feet
All awkward and elbows
Dorky to the max
And wanting to just snap my fingers
To make
me
CLEVER
again.

 

(Posted on August 11, 2008, in my Livejournal. Written by younger Me.)

Poem: I Wish You Knew Me Now

I wish you knew me now.
Back then, I was naive
easy to bully,
manipulate.

I wish you knew me now.
Back then, I was vulnerable,
unskilled at saving
myself.

I wish you knew me now.
Back then, I was angry,
imagining fictional
wrongs.

You can’t know me now.
Sometimes I think of you.
Then I smile, and
stop.

Truth in Four Sentences

To someone that I used to know.

I don’t think of you every day.
You aren’t in my life; that’s not new.
Years have passed since I last loved you.
I’ll still cry when you pass away.

 

[Poem] Cascadia

If you set foot here,
even briefly,
she knows your name.
If you give her a piece of your heart,
bury it in the woods between the firs,
it will not pine for you when you leave.
It will rest, growing in your absence.
When you return,
as occasionally or often as you might,
dig it up.
You will find it not rotted nor diminished.
Emerald green sprouts will be growing from it:
choose one or two.
Transplant them wherever they long to be.
If that place happens to lay far away,
perhaps another traveler will see it,
ask it of Home, then go plant
a piece of their own
next to yours.

Inspired by Bekah Kelso, SJ Tucker, Seanan McGuire, and all the others who have found themselves returning home with a bit of themselves left behind in the Emerald City.

[Poem] Emotion

Sometimes, I feel like crying.

There is no particular reason, except that it feels as if someone somewhere must be cried for, whether they be happy tears, sad tears, angry tears, or tears unknown.

Sometimes, I feel like laughing.

There is no particular reason, except that it feels as if someone somewhere must be laughed for, whether it is happy laughter, nervous laughter, derisive laughter, or laughter unknown.

Sometimes, I feel like singing.

There is no particular reason, except that it feels as if someone somewhere must be sung for, whether it is joyful songs, tragic songs, defiant songs, or songs unknown.

We are all connected, in ways dark, mysterious, and strange, in manners strong, deep, and enduring, in fashions electric and liquid and brightly burning, and in patterns known and unknown. Isolation does not become us. We, like many other, are pack animals.

Cry for your sisters,
Laugh for your brothers,
Sing for your lovers,
And for yourselves.

You are kin and kind with one another.

See.
Touch.
Know.
Remember.

(originally written 5 years ago today, posted in my Livejournal)

Poem: Why? Why? Why?

You keep asking
“Why? Why? Why?”,
operating under assumptions of
reasonable behavior.
Your pain is valid,
as feelings always are.
Emotions do not objective fact make,
and base assumptions being wrong,
your hypotheses
proved
wrong,
yet still you cling and cleave to them.

I’d explain, but I truly think that you wouldn’t understand,

not as you are,
not as you believe yourself to be right now.

May you find the light
and see the monsters for what they really are:
ordinary objects casting fantastic shadows.