I was a star.
Bright, Shining, unblinking,
was the last thing on my mind.
But before I knew it
I was falling.
Deep into the abyss
and so far deep that
I cannot get back up.
Parvathi, over at her swag blog
Queen Talks, and I are attempting these poetry prompts, by Falls Poetry.
I have a jar.
A jar of hearts.
The jar of hearts that I collected from my treacherous journey
The jar of hearts that I pick up and let inside of my own
when I lack inspiration. Or motivation.
It has never failed me.
Until one day, I randomly pulled
And your heart began to sing the tales
of me, through you. Of us.
And I wondered if keeping your heart with me
was good for mine because
my heart begins breaking.
Not very happy with the art and the poem. But eh. It will have to do.
I’m sitting still and straight but I feel tilted.
There’s a storm brewing in my head,
my very own flavour,
with lots of brine and rain to compensate each other,
with a dash of seaweed; just a pinch of death.
and maybe a little Hell;
definitely no fear. No sadness.
Only wistfulness, just a touch.
And I shall feel all right.
I really like how my drawing came out, but I’m not so sure about the poem itself.
“Hey! Be yourself!
You deserve to be happy!
But, can I make a small suggestion?
You know who you were,
the other day?
Please be that ‘you’!”
I am sick.
I am tired.
Who are these people,
telling me who to be and who not to be,
when they’ve only seen a sliver
of who I really am?
They want me to be the real me?
They want me to be true to myself?
Well, I hope they’re prepared to run because
they have helped me unleash the beast
I hate this society. I hate that the people that I really care about fall into this category. I hate that there is so little open-mindedness. I hate it, but I swallow it all up because if the majority of the people around you are like that, what can I do?
I suppose there are changes that I would love to make in this drawing, but I’m really happy with it.
You hold up the crystal to the sunlight
but you see no rainbows.
“Why can’t I see rainbows?” You ask grandpa.
He laughs lightly, taking the stone from my hand.
“This is pure crystal, unpolished.
You can’t see the light because
there is unwanted dirt and soil on it.
If you clean it,
polish it with hard substances,
you can see it!
Like your mamma’s diamond earrings!”
“I understand!” You say.
I wonder if one day, you will understand
what Pappa was trying to say.
Hardships will hurt you, baby,
but I’m sure, they will make you
into the shiniest human being
ever walked on the planet.
A little father-daughter sentiment, I suppose.
I painted my very first crystal! Not perfect, but practice is definitely required, but I’m quite happy with it. I enjoyed the experience!
I know we belonged to the past
and I know for sure that
I was never your future.
I just wish that the present
was longer so that I
could dig deep into you
and see you.
know you and try and strip away that facade you have on
I want to see you and your dark secrets
the desires that you’re scared of wanting
dreams that keep you up at night.
what’s the story behind that bright scarlet belt which reflects your inner personality?
come, sit with me
and tell me
the things that make you smile and the things that make tears stream down your cheeks
your first best friend
your first fight with your sibling (do you even have any?)
your first love
and your first heartbreak.
tell me everything.
I wrote this in class becasue I was feeling too sleepy. It was a really chilly weather, the warm-sweater-and-hot-tea-at-the-window-staring-at-the-rain types. Oh well.
It is a sunny day outside, for a change.
Inside, I am all stormy.
Feelings and the past are churning inside me
like my very own flavour of storm that’s being brewed,
for me, for this day.
This turmoil inside me is not who I am.
But it happens.
I hate it because I can’t control how I feel.
I hate it because these feelings are horrible.
Sometimes I get the feeling that these feelings are not made of evaporative material,
instead, they are set in stone, weighing me down, pulling the corners of my mouth down,
pulling my eyelids shut.
I hate it, but there is little I can do until it passes.
And until it passes, I am in agony.