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[sticky post] Ganked From Deviant Art

Well, there was this "100 Picture Challenge!" meme going around Deviant Art, and you were supposed to make 100 works of art each with one of 100 different themes. Quite the project. I have decided to take it here and make it...POETRY! And if I do make a picture...or a song...it will go here too. I will link to each theme as I have achieved it. No time limit. Here we go!

Themes!Collapse )


like droplets they fall from my hands
precious pearls not plucked from oysters
one after another
in an exquisite string of loveliness
they glow with ethereal light
and are sent off one by one
mysterious orbs
and yet all you see
all you feel
are some beads on a string
held by quiet desperate hands
a numb mind
but a pure heart


in the mirror

I look in the mirror
this body has seen better days
things I can change
with effort and time
things I'll never get back
age destroys us all
it's all downhill from here, babe
I look in the mirror
and think of old glories
whereas then, I didn't care
I looked like me
whatever I looked like
when I looked in the mirror
I never realized I was pretty
I couldn't understand
why the women were envious
when they looked at my girlish figure
now I understand
now I get it
and when I see the young women
I too, am envious
and yet he finds me
beautiful and desirable
this old bag of a body
he hungers for me
for touch and closeness
for intimacy
because this body is mine
falling apart as it is,
it houses my soul
and my soul is beautiful
but I can't see my soul
when I look
in the mirror


no time

surfing the net
making an old-fashioned phone call
grocery shopping
there is no time
there is never enough time
up at dawn
rush rush rush
no time to eat
gotta grab the kids
there are piano lessons
and football
who has time
to eat as a family anymore?
everybody on a schedule
everybody's lives regimented
we do the things we think we'll enjoy
and they sap the life out of us
then we get up and do it all again
even weekends are hectic
too much stuff to do
then the insanity of Monday
is this really the American dream?
what kind of world is it
when there is no time
for seeing clouds in the sky
watching sunsets
drinking coffee on the deck
puttering about in the garden
chill time
what kind of life?
someday we shall retire
and then there will be time
but in no time
we all die


he is so old
the brother-in-law said
now he was old enough
to say anything he liked
and people would have to put up with it
except he never says anything
except "Meow"
so many different ways of making
one sound
he sharks around me
feed me
pet me
follow me
put me in bed
no wait, I'm up again
put me in bed again
if he were a human child
he would demand endless
glasses of water and bedtime stories
not to mention midnight snacks
we indulge him
he is old
he is a cat
and someday soon
his life will run out
and he shall be no more
cherish the days
of an old, cranky, demanding

Mother Nature

they said she was a goddess
indeed she was amazingly attired
with mountains for breasts
the sea as her cloak
the green forest as her dress
and granite for shoes
they said she was a mighty force
hurricanes and tsunamis
earthquakes and tornadoes
lightning flashed in her eyes
when her wrath was awakened
and yet humankind has changed her
subtlely altered her
now the weather is wild
the creatures are dying
the crops fail
Mother Nature will win in the end
she is a goddess
she is a mighty force
but what of the fate of humankind?
what is the old saying?
it's not nice to mess with
Mother Nature


sometimes I think I need
a vacation from LIFE
not so much a Caribbean cabaña
snorkeling in crystal waters
a summer in Norway
finding my roots in Ireland
and the misty moors
visiting friends in England
castles in Germany
all these are lovely destinations
but in the end, where I am
I am
I take my broken mind with me
and all the havoc it causes
and that is tougher
than climbing a fourteener
these little pills
that hold it all together with duct tape
come with me wherever I go
and when the storms rise
I can't see
I might be somewhere beautiful
but the person I need a vacation from
is me


they think I can do anything
they think I am strong
they think I can move
with the effortless grace of gods
they are wrong
yes I am strong
yes I have fortitude
amazing fortitude
but I have even recently
had weaknesses thrown in my face
reminded poignantly
that my true source of strength
is the living God
so to let Him pour out all my cracks
in the damaged clay jar that is me
is true fortitude
and the assurance
of being saved

spill forth

I don't know where
my words hit
they come spilling forth
good or bad
no writing critique
very little standards
just a need
to express
to somehow get down thoughts
I don't know
who I speak to
I don't know
if anybody is affected
at all
his words were so beautiful
I was so envious
he had so many talents
but his soul was troubled
in the end he faded away
brought his world crashing down upon him
and hid
the artistic soul
is often a lonely one
me, I write what I know
sometimes I mask it
sometimes to not let people know
but today I spill forth
I want people to KNOW
the precious contents of my heart
for it is overflowing
with words unspoken



sometimes my mind is
sometimes my eyes are
that bleak twilight place
or soft cat's fur
beautiful misty morning
threatening thunderclouds above
a dimness of mind
realizing that people aren't black or white
but grey
hair that tells you you are getting older
storm across the ocean
castle on the moors
I think I should like to be wrapped
in lovely soft grey to match my eyes
warm and cozy in a corner
with a hot cup of tea


once upon a time
there was a golden-haired girl
with the sun in her eyes
laughing, she played in the backyard
with only her own imagination
for company
and then the darkness came
and the forgetting
the little girl was no longer sunny
her hair turned brown over time
she grew taller
she grew older
and on the outside the world loved her
for her talents, her intelligence, her beauty
but on the inside
there was nothing
once upon a time
that little girl
now a woman grown
escaped from the Valley of Death
went to a foreign land
gradually waking up
stumbling on her own two feet
for truly
she had never learned to walk
gradually kind hands held her
led her
taught her
and the darkness was still dark
but now in the sky above
there was a rainbow
and she didn't pass under the rainbow
she didn't go over the rainbow
she walked ON the rainbow
and where the rainbow ended
was finally a good place
and lo
there was light


in blood and darkness
I was born
by a mother forgotten
by caretakers never held
cast upon the wind
by a stork who did not know the way.
I grew but I grew crooked
the blood that had birthed me
coursing through my straining veins
inside my own home
I was never known
inside my own room, my own little world
a mystery
a living bonsai of God
warped by the woundings of life
constrained by sorrow to escape
in one direction only
a little boat set out on the sea
containing only me
my disfigurement
my misfortune
and the blood that ran all through me
in darkness I called the wind
in the depths I felt the sea
and in the land I finally sailed to
they called me beautiful
and did not mind
the wounds of the bonsai
or look down on my hideousness
somewhere in there
was a small child laughing
she's finally come home
and the blood that runs through
is free


questioning what they think
questioning what they told me
I campaigned for this
I pulled this out of my ass
it just so happened to be okay
unbeknownst to me
or is it okay?
the data isn't in yet
I see neat blocks and rows
pretty colors and graphs
telling me where it goes next
but the future is unwritten
today it came round to completion
we all lived
and breathed a sigh of relief
but the dark music
still bathes my soul
the voices of the lost
inside my head
sweet and comforting


the silence falls
but inside of my head
busy dwarves are banging about
hammering and forging
the smell of sweat and steel
weapons they forge, strong ones
but the strongest of all
is not yet finished
the adamantium has been
in the forge for many years now
patiently worked
like the many layers of a samurai blade
it is close to complete
much has befallen it
inside the forge
but outside, the silence falls
the silence of the dead
many were slain on the battlefield
with the dwarf-forged weapons
their names and memories forgotten
weeping wives and children
their only testament
it is so dark and silent
not even the wind blows
but inside life thrives
inside there is hope


he sits and listens
there is nothing to hear
he watches intently
there is nothing to see
somewhere there are ravens
flying overhead
seagulls plucking his lunch
from out of his shredded hands
torn and tattered
he remembers
one bright golden smile
but the clouds go over the sun again
he sits in the downpour
there is nothing to say


walking with a lame leg
gimping along
tripping and falling
in the grit of the street
gravel up my nose
I pull myself wearily up
grab for my cane
fallen to one side
and begin my weary trudge again
ignoring scrapes and bruises
did anybody notice?
did anybody help?
who notices a man
with a lame leg?
except as he gets in the way
of the young
and ruthless


sweet and white
are the cockles of my heart
sweet and white
my sheets
sweet and white
the snow that drifts down
sweet and white
and fleet
gone are the yesterdays
which drove me to madness
gone are the yesterdays
of dark and despair
come again yet
the withering sadness
come again
flowers strewn in my hair
all silent now
in November's sweet yearning
all silent now
in the lost hope of death
all Nature waits
for the sun's light returning
all Nature waits
and holds frosty breath
deep in the forest
the pale blue mountains
deep in the forest
I see it again
sweet and white snow
splashing up as white fountains
Yuletide brings merry
and light once again.


late Summer

I am already late Summer
young Spring come and gone
early Summer lost in
torrential and unseasonable
there is still time yet
for warmth
for laughter
for days spent outside
in the sun
warming and tanning
hiking in the mountains
there is still time
Fall has not come yet
but I cannot stop the turn
of the seasons
Fall is inexorably
on its way.



I am not the strongest person I know.
I am not the bravest.
I am not the toughest.
I am not the brightest.
I am not the most loving.
I am not the best.
What I AM is ME.
I am imperfect.
I am human.
I am still growing.
I am still learning.
And sometimes I need you
more than you need me.
Sometimes I have nothing to offer
and come empty-handed instead
trusting there will be someone
someone who will fill my lack.
Humbled and humiliated
I ask, will you help?
Will you hold me while I cry?
Will you hold my shaking hands?
Will you accept my silence?
Will you not take it as rejection
if I turn away?
and that I have heard so many say "yes"
amazes and awes me
I want to give
I search my pockets for change
but they are empty
and I realize that this time
I need to be carried
and someone else must pay my way.
Everything in me
cries for this not to be so
but God is gracious
hands are there
arms to hold me
ears to listen
quiet patience seemingly unending
not everybody is there all the time
nor would I expect that
but enough people are around
enough of the time
that I am never completely alone
you have woven a safety net
of love that supports me
I lie in such a hammock
spent without any more strength
with empty pockets
and no jewelry at all.
I am imperfect.
I am human.
and I am so incredibly grateful.



I looked for you
and came up empty
went round the corner
hoping to find you there
you weren't
just long silence
and pictures
I never saw you
with my own eyes
I never heard your voice
except on the other end of a phone
and yet, how I loved you
you drove me to distraction
I gave and you gave not
I loved and you withdrew
I almost gave up on you
I almost walked away and said
this isn't worth it
but I didn't
I hung in there
and now that you are not here anymore
I wonder if
there isn't something more
I could have done
but I realize now
that I loved you splendidly
that was worthy in its own right
and what return you made of it
was none of my business
I loved
I miss
I mourn
and when I look round the bend
expecting to see you
and see no one
I feel so


your love is not enough

your love is not enough
i hear your comforting voices
again and again
over and over I asked
i feel worthless
i feel ashamed
i hate myself
i want to die
and you said I was silly
you wondered how I could think that
you had me examine my ideas
you told me not to compare
there was no anger
there was no judgment
your love is not enough
somehow I have to fix what's broken
somehow the only one to redeem me
is me


I'll make you pay.

go even deeper into darkness
I made it pay today
I made my body pay
for being such a traitorous wretch
for its weakness depriving me
of precious sleep
and so I ate and I drank
things I knew would upset it
things I knew which would create
the worst case of acid I could muster
oh I succeeded!
it got to where I could not help but cough
and to cough was to invite it all
to come back up, which it did.
It came back up until the recalcitrant stomach
was completely emptied.
Eyes watering, throat sore
yet triumphant.
I had showed my rebellious stomach
WHO was in charge.
I just ate some more chocolate
and followed it up with some pepperoni.
Acid, acid, acid.
Don't fuck with me, stomach.
I'll make you pay.


the watch

you said,
write me a poem
and you smiled at me
about the watch dials
we woke up this morning
looked, and lo and behold
they glowed in the dark
you hated this watch
looked too much like a man's
I said, it is unisex
and has this huge face
one can see across the room
you insisted on the bracelet
there was no special occasion
just because
just because of our love
silver hearts and diamonds
and you said, wear it on the left
the left is for the heart
wear it next to the watches
so feminine and pretty
most of them
except this big one
which you said was too like a man's
well, sweetheart
my eyes aren't what they were
I like things that are easy to see
so here it is
and I love the watch
you gave me for Christmas
the one you gave me
for Valentine's Day
the one that
reminds me of you
and this watch, with the
glow-in-the-dark dials
that finally sold you on it
so much like a man's
well, sweetheart
isn't that
appropriate? :)


the black hole that is you

this morning I passed my phone
sitting quietly on the jewelry box
where I keep it overnight
I thought of you
then I passed on by
early morning, after all
gotta get the coffee brewing
been awhile, apparently
since I rinsed the pot properly
finally get it going
the wonderful aroma of coffee
drifts through the air
oh yeah
you like coffee
she said, I don't wanna be
another one of your
I don't think she will be
she's too tough and
she fights too hard
with you, I think
I worshiped at the altar
that was you
gave you my best
gave you my all
and in the end
that simply wasn't enough
you've been telling me for awhile
mostly through inaction
that you didn't want me
and just recently, via
that very phone
you told me to bug off
even I, thick skull that I have
can figure that one out
you're on your own and
you want it that way
at any rate, I am done
throwing my love, my time
my energy down
the black hole that is you
mmm, I smell the coffee
the start of
another fine day


last ship to the West

I hear the heat blowing through the vent
the serene thrum of the oxygen concentrator
the ticking of the clock I bought on a whim
and that doesn't ever tell the right time
not even the cat is here
just me
and my thoughts
I think of my figurines
the crystal ones
the porcelain ones
the wood and plastic ones
all somehow expressing
an aspect of me or someone I dearly love
she keeps watch as a nightlight
although her beautiful wings have fallen off
symbolic of our broken relationship
yet the light of mutual love still shines
the wolves that guard me
the manifestations of God's power
working in me; a butterfly princess
and a dark angel who has seen
places that are too dark to be described
He said today that my poem was dark.
I said, "I think of it as a wound that won't heal."
doesn't he understand
that when you rip away people
who are integral to the fabric of your reality
they leave holes that cannot be mended?
You can put other people in the holes
but they are patches and not true re-weavings
if I were a dress, someone
would have thrown me away by now
not even in good enough shape
to donate me to Goodwill
I am linked in triplicate now
to strengthen that which was
too weak to live
and even so, it is barely enough
and I write this on
another night I cannot sleep
and the drugs that were to carry me there
were absorbed by my body
into inertness
oh Frodo
where is your last ship
to the West?