If I see you (A Poem)

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

writing

If you read this
I hope you know who you are.
If you know who you are
I hope you believe this.
If you believe this
I hope you read this through.

I want to tell you
my mind can get filled
with images of you,
hopes of the future,
fears kept by the past,
and memories of a different life.

My mind tells me things
about you
about me.
It shouts that when I see you,
if I see you,
when we are face to face
I will shout at you
yell hateful things
let you know where you stand
where my heart is.
My mind tells me
I hate you
I am angry towards you
you never deserved me.
Rage builds up so easily
like a red hot fire
that burns my soul.

My mind tells me things,
but I am not just a mind.
My heart also speaks.
She whispers, no.
I will hug you
and tell you you are my friend.
I have forgiven you
and I have forgiven me.
The hurt is only a memory.
My rage does not burn,
not in my heart.
I will pick up the pieces
of the friendship once lost
and show you that I see
how good friends we can be.

You see I have my life
and you have yours.
I once told you friends we’ll be
and I promise you in my heart
friends we will always be.
No matter what happens
or what the time may bring.
I promised you friends we are
and I really believe
we will be friends
now and forever.

So, if we meet again,
please know,
you are my friend
even if you have long let me go.

Sale (creative rant)

by tiffanymy creative self, other updatesPosted on No Comments

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)

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

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.

Who I Am (A Poem)

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

Ask me who I am
and I may tell you
I do not know.
Ask me what I am
and I will tell you
I am a puzzle not to be known.
Ask me how I am
and I will smile
saying that should already be known.

Who am I?
Today you ask me,
and I will answer
with this moment’s answer.
I am me.
I write my heart,
not knowing all of it.
I speak my mind
still hoping to grow it.
I share my soul
praying that you won’t break it.

I may not know everything
not even about who I am,
but I know
I am stronger than I have been tested,
smarter than I seem,
and more loving than I let on to be.
My heart is deeper than any ocean,
and how deep it goes scares me at times,
because the deeper the chasm
the easier to fall,
the easier to be broken,
so my heart may be deep,
but I do not venture
as deep as it goes.

Who am I?
I do not know,
an artist at heart,
but with an organizer part.
I am a nerd to start,
who loves all things about art.

I do not know fully who I am,
because I have not fully lived.
My life is not over,
so I will still be changing,
still be growing,
and I will still be learning.

Who am I?
I can only answer
quite simply,
I am me.

 

A Poem about Zucchini Bread

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

If your eyes are the windows to your soul
than let me look upon a warm loaf.
If poetry is the doorway
than surely there should be a poem
written to the food that warms it.

I heard a poem spoken
about peach cobbler
and how to make it.
I have heard a poem
about the houses lived in.
But there is no poem
about Zucchini bread
so I will write it.

Where to start
we go so far back.
This almost miracle
delicious in my mouth
reminding me of childhood
reminding me of family
and reminding me of love.

We share the time it takes
and we share the bread we make.
Some families have old traditions
spanning generations
going back as far as their own family’s creation.
My family has Zucchini bread,
the wonderfully green mixture before it’s baked,
the sweet smell that tells you it’s ready,
and the thick, warm taste when it’s cooled just enough.

It is always a happy time when this bread is cooking
the smell alone is enough to put a smile on your face
and love deep in your heart.
The smiles that dance on the faces in the kitchen
and the laughter that steams from creating this masterpiece.
Yes, other families have their traditions
and their memories;
we have our own
and I know I would rather taste ours
than yours.

So, here is to the flour on the floor,
the green goop on the counters
and the love in the bellies.
Here is to the freezers filled
the gifts created from joy
and the memories made.
Here is to the Zucchini bread
that I love to make
and love to eat.

 I feel like this is a bunch of different poems wrapped into one, but I think it works. Zucchini bread is my favorite food, so it should have more than one poem written. Let’s just say this is multiple poems written to blend together or something like that.

What to do? (A Poem after a mishap)

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

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)

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

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

by tiffanymonologue, my creative self, other updates, PoetryPosted on No Comments

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

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

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.

Why? (A Poem)

by tiffanymy creative self, PoetryPosted on No Comments

poetry

Why
Is my heart breaking;
Can I not see the light?
Why
have I lost hope;
Can I not feel the love?
Where is this lost feeling,
this void of hope;
where is this twisted feeling coming from?

Did I not laugh today,
was that a dream?
Did the sun not shine today
and did I not wake again?

Why
is my heart breaking;
is my mood so low?
Why
have I lost my hope
Do I not know which way to go?
Has my path darkened?
Have I lost my way?
Can you tell me?
I need to know.

Did I not see a baby smile
or hear my friends’ laughter?
Was there no jokes today
and did I not enjoy work?
Did the sun not shine today
and I not wake again?

Why
is my heart breaking;
do I feel alone?
Why
have I lost my hope;
can I not figure out?
Where can I find the hole that is inside
What fell out
How do I get it back in?

I guess it is simply one of those nights
after a wonderful day
when the night is darker
and my eyes are heavier.
I guess it is simply one of those nights
when I ask why
knowing the next dawn will be brighter.

This poem was written Wednesday night, after I hung out with a few friends and had a generally good day. I was happy most of it and then on the car ride home I started to think. My mind went off on its own and I wound up feeling a bit depressed by the time I pulled into my driveway. I decided to write as an outlet and to figure out where the feelings were coming from. By the end of the poem I realized it was just me being tired and thinking about everything I have to do.

It is simply one of those nights where I need to go to bed and know everything will be better in the morning.

I hope you enjoyed reading and let me know what you think. Also if you need help, advice, or just someone to talk to, please let me know. I am always willing to help and listen.Â