Let Me Live (A Poem)

poetry
Let me live among the stars
Allow me to dance a jazz-square
on the moon.
If not teach me
how to trap my dreams in reality.

I will soar high
above my common life
living in the clouds of my desire
then like gravity
you pull be back
to where I sit.

Let me fly.
Let me soar.
Let me live,
even for a moment more.

Instead you pull me
chain me
and remind me of my fears.
Road blocks are made
while obstacles rise
like you forget what’s inside.

My heart will soar
I will fly.
You may be helpful
reminding me of reality
but my dear mind
you know my heart and my soul.
They will win.
I will live among the stars
and dance on the moon,
so please just step aside.

Here (A Poem)

poetry

Here are the chains
I clasp on to my wrists.
Here is the weight
I tie to my heart.
Here is the knife
I slowly stab into my soul.
Here is the prison
I hide myself in.

I cannot unchain myself
from the chains I claimed.
I cannot untie or cute the rope
that holds down the weight on my heart.
I cannot heal the hurt
from the knife in my soul.
I cannot unlock my prison
that I once locked myself in.

So, I give you my chains,
please undo their locks.
I give you the weight,
please cut their ropes.
I give you the knife
please heal my wounds.
And I give you my prison,
please turn it into a home.
Yes, I give you my everything,
please make me whole.

Sale (creative rant)

writing

 

I am not for sale but you can by small pieces  of me. My body, heart, and soul are only mine. You can not buy or bid on them. Yet, I will bleed for you. I will bleed out all my creativity. I will happily give you all of my mind as long as I know where to find it at the end of the night.

Yes, I will give my all to give my art, but you will never buy my heart. I will bleed for you because my love will never end. Still no money and no treasure will be set to claim my very self. I will give you every piece of me and some times those pieces will be free. However, those pieces are the things I can spare, those bits are what needs to come out.

So thank you for collecting the things that I shed, but please know I am not for sale.

 

What do you artistic people think? Is that how you see selling your art? It was a random creative rant, so I don’t even know what I think.

Play on (A Poem for musicians)

writing

Let the music play on,
sing your song out,
make the notes dance
out the throat
through your mouth.
Let your words paint music
with your instrument in hand.

You music is a beautiful painting,
so paint on the air.
You songs are a sweet aroma
to my mind,
or like a light shining into my soul.

So play on,
sing on,
and keep on creating.
Keep on sharing.
Let my life be filled
with the music within
your mind,
your heart
and your soul.
Play on
and let me hear
that sweet melody,
your beautiful rhythm
and that soul that shines from the deep.

Let the music play on,
You music is a beautiful painting,
So play on.

What to do? (A Poem after a mishap)

poetry
What do I do?
sit in anger
in grief
waiting and watching
the ball of angry twine tighten?

What do I do?
Scream and shout
about the beauty that was lost
wallowing in my heart
about how it was unfair?

What do I do?
Watch my soul grow dark
and my heart breaks

What do I do?
I write
pushing off the anger
wiping clean the screams
that want to creep out.
I turn the light of my soul
to shine bright
and move on.

What do I do?
I continue on
I laugh at the poem that comes out
and smile
I get to write even more.

What do I do?
I win the battle
that rages inside of me

 I first wrote a lovely little poem about aging and being loved. It was sweet and happy with the repeating line smile and play. Well that obviously did not want to be published and wound up being deleted some how. That is where this came from.

I hope you enjoyed this and have a wonderful day remembering you don’t have to be angry when your work winds up being for nothing. 

Always smile and know you are loved.

The Me I Want To Be (a poem)

poetry

 I have put off writing this poem. I haven’t really wanted to truly face my ideas of loosing weight and why I want to get healthier. I also feel like I don’t have to share my reasons behind wanting to lose weight. Yet, this poem keeps bugging me, so I will write it if only to get it out of my head,

I hope you enjoy this poem.

Dear media,
Dear society,
I see the type of woman you ask for
I see your demands.
Media please know
I do not believe in your ideals
Dear society
I do not want your either.
I simply want to be me.

Yet the me in the mirror
does not match the me in my soul.
I do not know the woman
staring back at me.
I do not know the body
that I am in.
I am too young
for these ache.
My heart has more energy
than my body can take.
I yearn to do more
and be more
but how can I
when there is still more
more inches around my body
more acne on my face
and more aches in my knees.

I see you media
I see you society
and I almost want to embrace
this more type of me,
but I can’t.
I don’t want to me in your mold
but I want to me in mine.
I wish you did not demand perfection
so that every one will know.
I simply want to be the me
that I know.
I simply want to be the me
that is the same age as my soul.
I simply want to be me.

So I will.
I will turn my life back around.
I will fight these aches off
while the inches run away
and the pounds disappear.
I will fight my unhealthy cravings,
struggle to do what is right
and smile while I sweat.
I will fight until I am exactly who I want to be.
I will fight until I am
the me I want to be.

Dear media,
Dear society,
my health, my body
has nothing to do with you.
My health, my body
is mine and I will fight for it
despite of you.
I will fight until I am
the me I want to be.

Flowing Thoughts of a Poetic Mind

writing

I’m going to let my thoughts flow out. I hope you do not mind the random ramblings of a lone dreamer, lost in her own heart. It was tightened up for so long that I grew to really miss it. I tried to feel it and share it but my heart was locked far away among the elastic bands of stress and worried. Chained behind what other people said and did around me.  My heart was bolted down to the walls of my consciousness, just beyond my reach, where I could not free it.

Yet I tried. I tried to express the stress that weighed me down. I tried to write about what was wrong, but I could not express. I could not find the words to shout that I had lost the thing I hold so dearly. The one thing that makes me myself was trapped and locked by the world around and I could not get to it.

It started rationally, yet quickly. I had to change my life, move to a new home. I had to unpack and be settled. Yet, settling did not happen. There was something that I forgot to take with me, some how in the busyness of life I forgot where my heart belonged. Still I knew it was around, until one day I did not. One day after weeks had passed I looked for myself, my heart and it was gone. My focus on work, and writings, and doings, and goings, and everything else that seemed so important had locked away my heart, my deepest being, until I was a stressed human with no true identity.

Funny how you can lose who you are so fast and hardly even notice. Something so valuable to us all is so easily lost, like a golden band worn on a finger or a diamond stud worn in your ear.

Thankfully I unlocked my heart and threw off the chains that held it away from me. Happiness and relief overwhelmed me, because I was me, I was whole and I am loved. You can not feel true love when your heart is chained down with stress and worries. So now with my heart freed I will dance and share the beauty that a freed heart sees.

The moral of the story is don’t lock your heart away with the stresses and worries of this world or you will lose something so beautiful, so magical and the one thing that makes you who you are. Let your heart be free at least a little each day.

I hope you enjoyed this and have a great day.

Oh and if you look at the categories you should be able to tell I have no idea what category this goes in. 

Robin Williams' Monody poem

poetry

Monody

A monody is a poem in which one person laments another’s death, as in Tennyson’s Break, Break, Break, or Wordsworth’s She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways. (Also see Dirge, Elegy, Epitaph)

I have put this one off for a while. Honestly, I’ve put all the structure poems off for a few weeks, now. With Robin Williams’ passing I thought I would write one to honor him. He was one of my favorite actors and I know I am not alone. 

Laughter and Smiles
Fill the room
when your voice fills the air
Now only recorded
now only memories.
There are so many memories
of stand up
of comedy
and of moments meant to move.
With a voice meant to change
with every character
with every scene.

You were a light
you were comedy
you were a hug in a movie form
a smile when I needed one.
You touch my heart
and lightened my soul.

Now a legend
Now I hope you find your bliss.
Lay in rest
be at peace
and know you are missed.

Radical (Minute Poetry)

poetry

Minute Poetry

The Minute Poem is rhyming verse form consisting of 12 lines of 60 syllables written in strict iambic meter. The poem is formatted into 3 stanzas of 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4 syllables. The rhyme scheme is as follows: aabb, ccdd, eeff

Tell me how far one soul can go
How does one grow
with painful hope
in a brain’s lobe?

Are we just monkeys with disease?
can we release
the pain inside?
should we just hide?

No, I say we are much much more.
more than any lore.
More than animal
We are radical.

Okay, one I know the last line has 5 syllables. I actually did that almost on purpose in hopes that would stand out. Also because that is the word that needed to go there. I changed and fought with every other line, but the last line needed to be radical. 

Two, this title is misleading. I thought it would take a minute to write. That is not true. With a second per syllable so it should take a minute to read.

Let me what you think.

No Mold

Oh sad and crumpling world

where the non-judgmental judge,

where those who fight for the future

live in the past,

and where beauty is

as fragile as a single word.

 

What a poor pitiful world

where beauty and art

can only be seen striped of dignity,

where nonconformist conforms,

and integrity is torn from away from morals.

 

What a sad, sad world

where one shouts, “Be who you are,”

as they push you into a mold.

Can you not see my beauty?

do you not understand my soul?

I am not simply a body.

I do not need your mold.

 

Yes, what a sad, pitiful, crumpling world.

It is a world that breaks my very being,

so I will walk away.

I will continue to stand where others will fall.

I will see the beauty in dignity,

art in the unmodified,

and be at peace,

because I do not judge those who judge

do not condemn those who condemn

and love all.