Ekphrastic Poem Based on Jane Stairs' Church

The walls have never felt so close before.
The smiles never seemed so fake.
I never noticed how weird it is,
To come every week and sing.
The stained glass hides my doubts.
The steeple hides my hurt.
I never before have felt this way,
Abandoned by the church.
The wood beneath my body
The splinters digging in,
Beauty on the outside,
But intimately it hurts.
Pull away the curtain, Lord.
Let us all see in.
Into the lives of those next to us,
Never again to hide our feelings.

All the Edits in One Place

Winter Haiku
Whiteness all around,
Crunching sounds escape the ground;
Breath forms in the sky.

On a Flower in the Snow

In midst of the frozen ground,
Stands one last symbol of hope.
The royal colors bright despite a
White cover raining down upon it.

Harshness that was meant
To destroy - tear down -
Could not seep into
The unfrozen stems.

Through pain
The royal
Head stands,
Proudly alive.

None
Can
Drain
The
Life-blood
From
It's
Veins.

Alone Again
Are you ready to be alone again,
My friend?
For the long days in silence that seem
Never to end.
For the crying yourself to sleep
In your pillow
So your roommate cannot hear
Your sorrow.

They said they understood,
It would
Never be that way again.
You misunderstood,
This pain is caused by their hands
Just as before
When you were young and the
Same pain bore.

Now put your head up dear;
Stand strong.
"Night comes before the dawn" and
Night is long
But you still carry on, this night
Will end.
Am I ready to be alone again?
No, I miss my friends.

Russian Roulette

Metal glistens in my hand,

Like the sparkle of the sun

Reflecting off a car at dusk.

My shoulders are heavy

With the weight of the world.

I know this is the solution

To all my problems.

The answer is light,

Compared to the burden

Tied tight to my back,

And overwhelming my mind.

They scream at me not to,

As I spin the chamber -

Clicking as it turns.

As the waves of the ocean

After a storm, I am calm.

Clicking and screaming

Fall on dead ears

As I pull the trigger back.

Numb
I feel numb.

Is my heart even beating?

Faintly now, 

Thump-thump 

My fingertips are cold,

The blood barely gliding 

Through the smallest cell.

Take my hand, dear,

And warm me up.

Relation

I.
She lived among the fairy girls
Dancing and prancing
Nary a care in the world.
II.
Young lovers caught her eye
Using and abusing,
And left her, battered and empty.
III.
A handsome prince went to her door
Knocking and beating,
Begging for her delicate hand.
IV.
But fantasy turned to nightmare
Sneaking and lying
Her prince was a fraud, and inside she was dying.
V.
Long nights turned to cloudy days
Sighing and crying
As five little beings laughed and played.
VI.
Older now, her children gone,
Loving and breaking,
She’d finally had enough of him.
VII.
And now she lives among her fairy friends.

Of All the Things

Of all the people in my life that would hurt me,
I never thought you’d be one.
Of all those that would let me down,
To you, I always wanted to run.
Of all the heartbreak I would have to endure
I thought it was you I could trust.
Of all the things that could have been done,
Our relationship has been turned to dust.

I want you back, daddy.

Vilanelle

Shambles.

My life is a house set on fire,

I watch as the frame crumbles.

Beneath me the ground rumbles,

My fate becomes that of my home: dire

Shambles.

I run away and my feet, the house, trample.

Yet, I stand in the same place, viewing things transpire.

I watch as the frame crumbles.

A crazy man, struggles to put out the light, humbles

Himself to save the burning pieces before they expire.

Shambles.

I watch him, warily, as he fumbles

The dying light of my life, uninspired.

Shambles.

I watch as the frame crumbles.

Sonnet: Dreams of a Child

When I was young it was my dream to get married.

I drew a picture of myself walking down the aisle.

My groom is tall and handsome, smiling while I'm gliding.

Mom dabs her eyes and dad beams while holding my hand.

We dance all night, locked tight in each others arms.

I dream the night with no end, the moon shining bright.

We leave to fly to distant lands; my life begins anew.

But, those were only dreams from the mind of a child.

I grew up, as children do, when a man broke me.

Love ever lasting was something I gave up belief in

When my best friend kissed and lied to me again.

But now, what if I've found him, My true prince charming?

What if now, my childish dreams can come true soon?

Nightmares

My flesh is on fire,

And my lungs are desperate.

        While I stand and watch,

                             One by one

  My family is killed.    

  Then the ground rumbles

And my friends are swallowed

                            Into the belly of the earth.

        Spiders crawl out of every crevice.

Someone is hunting me down.

        And I’m on my death bed; lying

                            All by myself.

But, I think, what I’m most afraid of

        Is that I will give up on

Struggling to survive. And one day

                            I’ll take my life.

Revision: Sonnet - Dreams of a Child

When I was young it was my dream to get married.
I drew a picture of myself walking down the aisle.
My groom is tall and handsome, smiling while I'm gliding.
Mom dabs her eyes and dad beams while holding my hand.
We dance all night, locked tight in each others arms.
I dream the night with no end, the moon shining bright.
We leave to fly to distant lands; my life begins anew.
But, those were only dreams from the mind of a child.
I grew up, as children do, when a man broke me.
Love ever lasting was something I gave up belief in
When my best friend kissed and lied to me again.
I think I may have found him, My true prince charming.
And now, my childish dreams may come true soon.

What You Need to Know about the Preacher's Daughter

Five.
She's just like you. Though she may wear different shoes, or skirts that cover her knees, she looks at you and wants to be your friend.
But you look at her like she's an animal out of her cage, an elephant trying to fit in with lions, the coloring outside of the lines on a page.
She wants to blend in but all you let her do is stand out.
She is not her father, just as you are not yours, she is just like any other pretty young girl, begging to be noticed in this world.
Four.
She goes to church and knows the words but never speaks up because you're there watching.
You go when you want, to feel more religious, she goes on Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter and every day in between because she's made to.
The songs blend together and she falls asleep in service, and she acts like you because maybe it'll make you like her
But it doesn't matter because she's still the preacher's daughter.
And you'll still stare as she walks through the hall and send her to the slaughter of your words.
She shows no judgement towards you but that's all you do when you see her.
Three.
The attention you're so used to, from the opposite gender, she has not experienced outside of her three brothers.
So when a boy asks her what her bra size is she answers. When he asks for a picture she complies. When he grabs her butt it's all she knows and now all that is left is the sadness that grows inside her chest.
What's a girl to do when a boy shows interest in the appearance, and she knows no difference, this is how they all act, right?
She's not allowed to date but that's what a girl does, so she didn't wanna say no just because her parents said so.
They've told her that sex isn't love but all of you are so loved and she is left out so sex is what she gives to feel accepted but she only feels overwhelmed with hate for herself.
Two.
She spends her time alone in her room so she doesn't have to experience the stares that consume her.
She plays in her mind the interactions that lasted five seconds. Noting things she should have done different and maybe you'd listen.
She cries about the mistakes, the laughter that you make when she says something naive.
And I wish you would see how she's not even comfortable around her siblings because she's eaten by the words of your findings as to how she is different.
She changes her hair, her smile, her laugh. She pierces her ears to be more like you. She wears makeup to be noticed. She paints her nails and buys shorter shorts because she wants to be known by you.
Yet, she's still a square peg in a round hole.
One.
Underneath that steeple, she can see all the smiling people and know that they do not care about her
On a Sunday morning they give her hugs and ask how her week was but all they're prepared for is "fine."

She's tired of the same old every Sunday. She's tired of trying to get people to care. 

She dreams of ending it all. Yes, the preachers daughter.

But that's not how she sees it,

She sees it as breaking free.

The chains of people weighing her down she longs to get rid of and just go. 

Where? she doesn't know. Anywhere, I suppose.

But she's going to leave. Leave the world. 

Yes, the preachers daughter. 

She's the next martyr.

Slam Poem: Enough

I once described this feeling I had for you as jumping into a raging river that is begging to take us under.
As we walked on the shore I felt my heart begging for more and you put your arm around my waist and time stopped.
I remember it as clear as day, the smile that lit up your face and it was just me and you standing in that place, the world was no more.
And then you said those words that dug a hole and buried my heart alive.
"You. Mean. Nothing."
Suddenly my mind was swarming with the things I thought to be true and I couldn't tell what was real and what was not.
Like when you watch a show for too long and begin to think that you're alive in the fiction,
That was my mind dealing with all this friction.
Before you no one had stayed, my relationships frayed at the seams.
Best friends come and gone, and not one lasted very long,
Except for you.
Six long years we were friends, a word that unfortunately prophesies how the relationship will end.
I had begun to think you were family, a word that finishes with I L Y.
And I couldn't think ... I didn't know why you went and left me.
So my confidence had waned, I wasn't skinny enough or pretty enough - I just wasn't enough.
I kept silent in front of others just in case I was too annoying for them to want to be with me.
I kept my eyes down, not wanting to look into anothers eyes and see you, staring back at me.
I was cautious and quiet, begging no one to notice how my silence was wrought from insecurities.
I was not enough.
I was a tool to be used in your everlasting torment. A fixture that was only brought back when nothing else was working, a lamp that was turned on only after the light had gone out in the rest of the room.
And no one could see my gloom. The way I looked at others wishing I was them, comfortable in their bodies and welcoming new besties.
I was not enough, for I meant nothing.
These are the things you taught me through our six long year friendship.
And they are the things that haunt me even though that ship has sailed and is never to return,
That is who you made me.
I wanted to remake myself. You are no longer here and that has given me freedom to never again return to the demon of your words.
Memories that flood back, like the basement of my old house that would overflow with each powerful rainfall,  hold no control over me anymore.
This time apart has done wonders. I've grown to love myself and who I am. No longer defining myself through your eyes and what I am not because of what you wanted me to be. I am me.
With all my imperfections, my brown eyes instead of blue, my waist that is not a size two, and my hair that does not cooperate, I am me.
And now, I've found someone else who treats me nice and whom I like, and though your words still roam my mind I find I can shove them out.
I am afraid he will leave just as you did, but I remember you didn't think of me as enough,
And he stares at me wondering how he could ever be enough for me,
Because I am something.

Vilanelle Try 2

Shambles.

My life is a house set on fire,

I watch as the frame crumbles.

Beneath me the ground rumbles,

My fate becomes that of my home: dire

Shambles.

I run away and my feet, the house, trample.

Yet, I stand in the same place, viewing things transpire.

I watch as the frame crumbles.

A crazy man, struggles to put out the light, humbles

Himself to save the burning pieces before they expire.

Shambles.

I watch him, warily, as he fumbles

The dying light of my life, uninspired.

Shambles.

I watch as the frame crumbles.

Frozen

That night is one
    Not easily forgotten
The time we talked
    From night until dawn.
As young lovers learning
    About each other
For the very first time.
    Then your arms,
Wrapped around my waist,
    Brought us close
And my heart fluttered
    As a hummingbird’s wings
Our lips grazed, mine desiring yours
    As a deer pants for water.
And suddenly I was thrown
    Head first into the sweetest
Reservoir of honey that is your lips.
    And as you pulled me close
I allowed my heart to open
    And your ice cold one
Froze mine right where we stood.

Like You

My daddy told me to find someone just like him.
And as a little girl I was blinded to his sin.
The way my mother was ignored
And my eldest brother was driven out the door,
By my father’s own hand.
My sister’s dreams to dance would crash land
As my father would insist we did not have the money.
But as soon as sports came along and it was sunny,
He would find all the resources on the earth.
And my poor younger brother, never knowing his worth,
Was pushed to the side for our perfect elder brother.
We quickly learned not to bother the two of them together.
Sins against myself I can not quickly recount,
Though I was the first born daughter, I did not amount
To the standards placed before me
And I became the child to long to become an escapee.
So, daddy, I see what you can do
And I no longer want my husband to be just like you.

Nightmares

My flesh is on fire.
And my lungs are desperate.
        My family is killed,
                             One by one,
While I stand and watch.
        The ground rumbles
And my friends are swallowed
                            Into the belly of the earth.
        Spiders crawl out of every crevice.
Someone is hunting me down.
        And I’m on my death bed; lying
                            All by myself.
But, I think, what I’m most afraid of
        Is that I will give up on
Struggling to survive. And one day
                            I’ll take my life.

Trust

I don’t know how people expect me to trust.
Lies have been my life.
My dad, my friends, my peers.
Lies have been all I hear.
And now you’re asking me to trust you.
To open up and let you in.
That’s the equivalent of me blowing a bubble
And asking you not to let it pop.

Revision: Of All the Things

Of all the people in my life that would hurt me,
I never thought you’d be one.
Of all those that would let me down,
To you, I always wanted to run.
Of all the heartbreak I would have to endure
I thought it was you I could trust.
Of all the things that could have been done,
Our relationship has been turned to dust.

I want you back, daddy.

Walls

A heart,

Soft and tender,

Needs to be protected.

Something sturdy and dependable

To keep out the swords

That threaten to

Cut it.

So, we build walls.

Strong, unmovable; brick

By brick they go up surrounding

Our precious, breakable cargo.

We decide who will enter

Into the sacred inner

Courts.

Those who we

Deem unworthy, will never

Touch our mold-able centers for love.

By doing this, however, we also

Run the great risk of

Keeping out

Everyone.

Parasite

The Ichneumon Wasp,

A small creature,

Lays it’s eggs on the back

Of an unsuspecting

Caterpillar.

With life-blood pumping

Through it’s veins,

The caterpillar continues on

Day by day, living.

Not knowing that a dangerous

Monster is born on it’s back.

The wasp larvae burrow

Into the body of the caterpillar

And eat it, from the inside.

It grows bigger and

Hungrier every single day.

If you were to look,

Observing the caterpillar,

Nothing would seem wrong.

For they go about life,

Concealing the deadly truth.

Until one day,

The caterpillar is eaten alive

By the parasite

Living in its bones.

Revision: Relation

I.

She lived among the fairy girls

Dancing and prancing

Nary a care in the world.

II.

Young lovers caught her eye

Using and abusing,

And left her, battered and empty.

III.

A handsome prince went to her door

Knocking and beating,

Begging for her delicate hand.

IV.

But fantasy turned to nightmare

Sneaking and lying

Her prince was a fraud, and inside she was dying.

V.

Long nights turned to cloudy days

Sighing and crying

As five little beings laughed and played.

VI.

Older now, her children gone,

Loving and breaking,

She’d finally had enough of him.

VII.

And now she lives among her fairy friends.

Revision: Numb

I feel numb.

Is my heart even beating?

Faintly now, 

Thump-thump 

My fingertips are cold,

The blood barely gliding 

Through the smallest cell.

Take my hand, dear,

And warm me up.

Villanelle draft 1

A clock ticks loudly, I sit quietly

The passage of time a worrisome thing to some

My bones grow older, my mind swims warily

Memories swarm, good and bad, carelessly

That one time I did something, haunts for days to come

A clock ticks loudly, I sit quietly

Why must they come now, so endlessly?

I messed up, I own it: what I did was dumb

My bones grow older, my mind swims warily

I let you in, despite my anxiety

You let me down, turn'd me in. Never again. I'm numb.

A clock ticks loudly, I sit quietly.

Tick-tock. I wait for you to show, finally.

Confrontation; an easy thing to shrink from 

My bones grow older, my mind swims warily.

You were someone I thought I could trust entirely

A life-long friend I now know I can abstain from.

A clock ticks loudly, I sit quietly

My bones grow older, my mind swims warily.

Narrative, Draft 2: Russian Roulette

Metal glistens in my hand,

Like the sparkle of the sun

Reflecting off a car at dusk.

My shoulders are heavy

With the weight of the world.

I know this is the solution

To all my problems.

The answer is light,

Compared to the burden

Tied tight to my back,

And overwhelming my mind.

They scream at me not to,

As I spin the chamber -

Clicking as it turns.

As the waves of the ocean

After a storm, I am calm.

Clicking and screaming

Fall on dead ears

As I pull the trigger back.

First Draft of a Sonnet: Dreams of a Child

When I was young it was my dream to get married.
I drew a picture of myself walking down the aisle.
My groom is tall and handsome, smiling when I'm gliding.
Mom dabs her eyes and dad beams while holding my hand.
We dance all night, locked tight in each other's arms.
I dream the night with no end, the moon shining bright.
We leave to fly to distant lands; my life begins anew.
But those were only dreams from the mind of a child.
I grew up, as children do, when a man broke me.
Love ever lasting was something I gave up belief in
When my best friend kissed and lied to me again.
Last year I found him! My true prince charming.
And now, my childish dreams may come true soon.

Narrative: Russian Roulette

"Tonight..."
I whisper to myself,
Gliding my fingers
Across smooth metal.

Anticipation grows
Wasting the day.
Little do they know,
It could be my last.

Time has come
I pull out the gun.
I know a fun game,
Who wants to play?

The chamber clicks
As it spins round.
Beads of sweat make
Their way from pores.

"Don't do it! Please!"
They're shouting.
But, I'm done,
I'm ready to go.

The chamber locks.
Shouting embraces
My ears as I pull back
And 

Revision: Alone Again

Are you ready to be alone again,
My friend?
For the long days in silence that seem
Never to end.
For the crying yourself to sleep
In your pillow
So your roommate cannot hear
Your sorrow.

They said they understood,
It would
Never be that way again.
You misunderstood,
This pain is caused by their hands
Just as before
When you were young and the
Same pain bore.

Now put your head up dear;
Stand strong.
"Night comes before the dawn" and
Night is long
But you still carry on, this night
Will end.
Am I ready to be alone again?
No, I miss my friends.

Revision: On a Flower in the Snow

In midst of the frozen ground,
Stands one last symbol of hope.
The royal colors bright despite a
White cover raining down upon it.

Harshness that was meant
To destroy - tear down -
Could not seep into
The warm-blooded veins.

Through pain
The royal
Head stands,
Proudly alive.

None
Can
Drain
The
Life-blood
From
It's
Veins.

Revision: Group 1

On Lost Love
Rocks slipping,
Legs give out,
Confidence is crumbling.
Lost love is climbing
A mountain
Just to forget you.

On Evergreens
Green bristles in the summer
Turned brown
And fell.
Nothing is truly ever green.

On Winter Trees
Branches reach
Scouring heights man
Cannot grow to reach.
Their furthest arms
Intertwine in the sky.
Raising their praises
Higher every summer
To show off their
Magnificent extensions
In winter.

Winter Haiku
Whiteness all around,
Crunching sounds escape the ground;
Breath forms in the sky.

On a Softball Field

I go to think
I go to cry
I go to pray
All my failures fly away.

Writing Plan

So, my writing plan is not completed yet. I haven't figured out a specific time that I can sit down and write from day to day since every day is changing in activities. But, when I have time I will write for 20 minutes while sitting in java. I like to write on my computer so I will have that with me. To avoid distractions I will bring headphones to listen to movie scores which are great for thinking and being inspired because there are no words.

Pillow Talk

I listen to your steady heaving.
"Did you hear about Mary?
She had a date today."
Your breathing stays.
"Em got tossed around in practice.
She's pretty pissed."
Nothing.
The question I want to ask
Will not leave.
So I sigh and whisper,
"Goodnight."

Memories - Descriptive Paragraph Part 2

I.
Open the door, take a deep breath to prepare.
Whoosh. Pain swells inside my chest
As icy air enters my lungs
Before being expelled back the way it came.
The snow, crunching under my feet,
Reflects the sun and blinds my eyes.
The bright white causes squinting while walking.
Looking down, foot prints and the scuffs
Before them litter the ground,
But only on the pavement.
The rest of the ground, where grass once was,
Is untouched. The flatness of the scene
Brings memories of days
Spent entirely in the snow.

II.
Breaking off icicles from clean places
To lick and see if tongues stay attached.
The softness of the snow, like falling into a pillow.
The rush of adrenaline, while flying down a hill,
Knowing when to stop to avoid the street at the bottom.
Friends laughing, can't stop smiling
Even though snot reaches its fingers into open mouths.
Numb fingers warmed with hot cocoa
Topped with the sugary goodness of marshmallows.
The dripping of snow shoes and pants
Onto the tiles of the kitchen,
Toes warming at the fire.
Cheeks rosy red, eyes bright;
Endearing memories.

III.
Looking up, while walking to class, I see
The people around, filled with their own memories.
We pass, staring at the white, crunching ground.
Looking as the trees with their branches
Weighed down with the snow.
Students brought down by the weight of their packs
And memories. Dragging their feet, desiring to feel
The freedom once had - weightless packs,
Weightless branches - dancing and not caring.
My breath smokes the air, molecules freezing
After exiting the warmth of my body.
I blink to keep out the wind.
Tears running down my face;
The cold forces itself into my being.

Memories

Opening the door, I take a deep breath to prepare. Whoosh. Icy air enters my lungs. Pain swells inside my chest before being expelled back the way it came. The snow, crunching under my feet, reflects the sun and blinds my eyes. Bright white causing squinting while walking. Looking down, foot prints and the scuffs before them litter the ground, but only on the pavement. The rest of the ground, where grass once was, is untouched. The flatness of the scene bringing memories of days spent entirely in the snow. Breaking off icicles from clean places to lick, and see if tongues would stay attached. The softness of the snow, like falling back into a pillow. The rush of adrenaline, while flying down a back road hill, knowing to stop before reaching the street at the bottom. Friends laughing, can't stop smiling even though snot reaches its fingers into open mouths. Numb fingers warmed with hot cocoa topped with the sugary goodness of marshmallows. The dripping of snow shoes and pants onto the tiles of the kitchen, toes warming at the fire. Cheeks rosy red, eyes bright; endearing memories. Looking up, walking to class. The people around, filled with their own thoughts and memories, walk by, looking at the white, crunching ground. Looking as the trees with their branches weighed down with the snow, students brought down by the weight of their packs and thoughts. Dragging their feet, desiring only to feel the freedom of summer - the weightless packs, the weightless branches - where they can dance in the warmth. Breath, smoking the air. Molecules freezing after exiting the warmth of my body. My eyelashes fill up with white, previously black from mascara, blinking to keep out the wind. Tears running down my face; the cold forces itself into my body.

Revision: Blood

I can feel the blood
Pump-pumping
To the tips of my toes.
Each beat filling my veins,
Flooding my brain.
I can feel it in the cartilage
Of my ears.
Even, in the small skin
Covering my eyes.
Pump. Pump.
Beat. Beat.
Every beat fills my lungs
With air.
Every breath fills my body
With life.
Necessary to survive.
Sustenance to thrive.
Throb-throbbing.
Never stopping.
But why can't I feel
My heart
Beat-beating
Whenever you're near?

What is Poetry?

Poetry, as stated by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, is "the best words in the best order" and, to me, it is the best release. Finding the courage to speak is often hard for me. Emotions build inside of my soul because I have a hard time letting them out. So poetry is a way for me to release those emotions in a way that flows and makes sense to me. Not only that, but reading a beautiful poem, that I can relate to, helps me feel as though I am not alone and therefore releases other feelings of loneliness or seclusion. To me, poetry is the best form of therapy.