Ophelia's blog

There comes a time

when it comes time to

make your music elswhere

for a while

So you pay your respects

with a flourish of your sword

(which, all along, was so inferior to your pen)

and slip out the back door

when no one else

is looking backwards

He’s trapped in a world of 

temporary pleasures

He talks to things 

that don’t talk back

He used to go outside

and play for hours

With rocks, leaves,

anything he found became

magical

His face used to be lit only by

imagination

and the thrill of a good idea

But now it flickers with the blue light Read more »

The worst thing is that you took me and you left me behind. 

It's almost as bad that I let you. 

Goddammit, you lied. You lied to me. 

You looked me in the eyes and you told me loved me. And then you left me. 

Adults don't understand that heartbreak is ten times worse for a teenager

when they're being told they aren't capable of knowing what love is.

I knew we weren't getting married. Screw it,

I knew we were probably going to break up before high school was over. 

But I loved you in the present and for some reason that wasn't enough for anyone

but me. 

I hate that I trusted you. It took me so long, longer than you knew.

I was angry when I met you. I was angry at the world. 

I was angry with myself. 

But you were different. I couldn't stay mad at you. 

Something about your eyes, your mouth, even that plaid fleece you wear

all the time

it made me smile. 

You made me laugh. 

I'm a sucker for romance, but I also don't believe in it. I'm a skeptic.

I can't wrap my head around the idea that one person

could meet another person

and want to be with them forever. 

But I caught a glimpse of that with you. 

This isn't another love poem. 

And this isn't another love poem that isn't a love poem.

This love doesn't have a happy ending, and that cracked my romantic streak a bit. 

I like happy endings. 

I like bittersweet endings. Read more »

I think I’m in the middle of a crisis. 

The kind of lost I’ve only heard about.

I’m no good girl gone bad, it’s true, but really

how good I ever was is still in doubt.

It’s funny how bad habits become easy

and doing things I shouldn’t become fine. 

My mind’s a wandering ghost who dreams of nothing

The face that’s in the mirror isn’t mine.

I think I’m in the midst of a rebellion

a quiet thing that doesn’t rear it’s head. Read more »

I've had days when my laughter tasted like peppermints.

I've listened to the light. It calls to me sometimes.

But so do the crevasses.

I've read the book the solider wrote. 

I've made myself a tin man. He would have loved me if he could.

He whispered that he wanted to.

I've watched my childhood grow up. 

I've seen my innocent moments morph into maturity. I remember what death sounds like now.

It sounds like the ring of the phone and my mother's resounding silence.

I've had days when my laughter tasted like peppermints.

Polka dots litter the sky in the most

irritating fashion

Didn't anyone ever tell you

littering is bad?

Rows and columns trap creativity

but scribbles make it dizzy. What's a girl to do?

Stop turning me around.

I want to watch the birds fly away, not come back

to where they came from.

I want them to be free.

Just because I'm stuck in a jar doesn't mean they have to be.

I dream in Technicolor

I dream in black and white

My thoughts write hidden sonnets

While my mind eludes the night

My eyelids shut out darkness

and unlock worlds within

When morning comes

my conscious numbs

the stories that have been

It’s the simple explanation

for this sluggish dying nation

the conundrum 

of the humdrum

normal is as normal does 

It’s the whining crying wanting

and the screaming dying haunting

of the storm clouds stewing silently 

a poets muse of rain

You remember that old story

hidden gate -- memento mori

theres a graveyard 

and a boy 

heather field, a color’s ploy

I’m a scribble 

I’m a stumble

I’m the auditory mumble

of a broken bridge 

and rushing water

Stars and moon

and son and daughter

Peace can’t come from violence

not a whimper, not a bang Read more »

I'm stuck in a time warp of failure

A loop of known loss and defeat

It's a game with a predestined winner

And the loser is constantly beat

My stars don't align with my future

I was born under morning's red sky

My heart compass spins in confusion

My cynical soul is on fire

I blend in a sea of the average

Even I couldn't pick myself out

It's a curse in disguise I've been given

this normal that causes my doubt

I'm stuck in a time warp of failure

A loop of known loss and defeat

It's a game with a predestined winner

And the loser is constantly beat

Your face was the first thing I saw, I'm sure.

Your arms were the first thing I knew.

Your hands were the ones the guided me, protected me.

You kept me safe. 

I was helpless. A child.

It was love at its simplest.

What changed?

I grew.

I started to struggle against those hands. 

I didn't want to be held.

But you put me down too early.

You let me fly too soon. 

And I fell.

You gave me no boundraries.

No guidelines. 

You tried to protect me

with lies and deciet.

It hurt more 

when I found out myself.

You promised me heaven

but neglected my earth.

I wilted.

The face that I first saw

I barely recognize.

The hands that once guided me

are the ones that now let me down

again and again.

The arms that embraced me

now measure the distance that you hold me away.

I'm sure you meant well.

But failed promises sting. 

You let me go

on a mother's instinct.

Are there any mountains left to name?

Is there any forest yet untamed?

Is there any inch of earth that has not been trapped and claimed?

Are there any mountains left to name?

Are there any stories yet untold?

Is there any theme that's not grown old?

Will love and death and promises forever be the mold?

Are there any stories left untold?

Are there any words not yet been said?

Is discovery of language long since dead?

Has every single syllable passed through some person's head?

Are there any words not yet been said?

There are mountains that I have not climbed.

There are stories that I have not heard.

And all around me, dancing softly, there are hidden words.

But are there any mountains left to name?

At the end of the day, cool is an illusion.

T-shirts and music, smiles and words

will all go up in smoke

will all succumb to time 

and lost memories.

At the end of the day, you're stuck with you.

Not her, not him. 

You were mean, but they laughed

so that made it ok.

Until the laugh has stuttered into silence Read more »

"...and when you give to the poor, you are giving to God. Because God is in every act of kindness. Food for the Hungry is a wonderful charity that..."

I stare straight ahead, fixing my eyes on nothing. Why is he still talking?

"...and this changes lives, dear people, changes lives..."

I don't like this man. I don't like him and he won't shut up. My fingers are twitching again. I shut my eyes and open them again. Wood, there's wood everywhere. And glass, too colorful. And candles that dance cheerfully and mock mock mock. And smiling people who grew old and fat and now are going to donate some of their vast amounts of money to feel like they made a difference. For God.

Me, I'm ready to scream.

Because I know God doesn't exist. Or if he does, he doesn't give a crap about orphans or sick people or whatever this charity is for. Because if he did care, there wouldn't be orphans or sick people. 

Or storms. Or boats. Or accidents. 

Here comes the blackness again.

"Oo, is she alright? Poor dear, she's fainted, get her some water."

"Melanie? Mel, sweetie, can you hear me?"

I can hear her alright. Doesn't mean I'll open my eyes. 

Whispers twist and twine themselves together above me. Funny how you hear sss the most when you're listening. Words like sad...and storm...and sister. Read more »

You don't deserve the time and energy it will take for me to type this. But I can't pick the phone up and end it. I just can't. I can't deal with your piggy little eyes following me in the hallways and smirking your judgments about me to your cronies. I want it to fade out. I will not write to you this summer. You are vapid, you are insecure, and you drag me down. 

I can't pick up the phone. But I will. I'm sick of how you make me feel.

You were never my friend. Now you will never get to be. 

Your loss. Your comments and your whining and your backstabbing and your hurtful, hurtful laugh, you can keep.

But you can't keep me.

The leaves that sway in summer breeze are gone.

A chill has come and settled in the air.

The hills of green on which the sun had shone

have turned to brown, and shiver in dispair.

The birds that sang are silent in the trees.

Their nests have long since fallen to the ground.

And sleep, and burrow, to escape the freeze

that all the woodlands know will soon be found.

Grey clouds with whispery promises of snow

swirl gently through the neverending sky.

And sunset floats away and steals its glow

too early, letting darkness silence cries.

Though it is true that summer comes again

Winter guards his months well in his den.

I will never be enough
and this thing will never stop
and the melancholy madness
will not morph into my song
And the waves that crash me silently
back to where I’m from
will keep coming at me faster
until dreams and thoughts are gone

Today it rained. 

Today my poetry will not rhyme.

Today I am sick of love songs and sick of you.

Today I hate everything I write.

This is the first thing I've written that hasn't been deleted into oblivion.

Today my poem will not have a title. 

Today is ending.

I wish it wouldn't. Tomorrow tastes sour.

Today in Social Studies we talked about the difference between want and need.

We looked up defintions.

We dicussed. 

We analyzed.

I want, I need.

You want.

You need.

I don't think there are lines. 

Grey areas surround the words want and need.

I don't need love to physically survive,

I won't stop breathing if I don't have it,

But who are you

or any dictionary

or any discussion between teenagers who would rather be elsewhere

to tell me I don't need it?

If you took away my pencil

my paper

my computer keyboard,

which are by definition wants,

I would still write.

My words are content to swirl in my mind. 

And yet, writing is not considered a need becuase I could live without it?

No. My writing is a need.

Maybe I would survive without it, but I would not live.

I would not love,

and I would not dream. 

My writing is my voice, and my voice is everything.

I want.

I need.

I want, I need.

IwantIneedIwantIneedIwantIneedIwantIneedIwantIneedIwantIneedIwantIneedIwantIneed.

She said then he said and math test on friday?

Mad at me crying she's grounded they lied.

Dating he hates me I failed it she's crazy,

I never said that next weekend who died?

I hide behind my words

the voice that's in my head

the rainbows in the puddles and 

things I've almost said

I live beneath the page

you can see me if you try

I smile when new words appear

when books are closed I cry

I sing to open air

and to curious young minds

My door is always open and

who knows what you will find

Look, sis, I'm sorry.

I know you're sad.

You hide it with your grey-blue eyes.

You hide so much.

But you're disappointed 

and I can tell.

Look, sis, I know I yell at you.

I know I call you lazy. And stupid. And mean.

All the time.

But it's just cuz I love you so much.

More than all the stars in the sky.

I promise.

I'll kick his butt if you want me to.

Look, sis, he wasn't much.

But he was your everything. 

And he broke your heart.

Please take off the bracelet he gave you.

It will only make things worse.

Look, sis, you deserve better.

You deserve the best.

You are a truely amazing person.

And if he doesn't see it?

His loss.

Look, sis, if you read this you wouldn't like it.

You don't like people making a fuss over you.

You never return my hugs.

You're too logical for affection. 

Me and you, we're like night and day.

Can never be together, but can't exist without each other.

So look, sis.

Look outside. 

There's a whole world out there. 

And it's waiting for none other than you. 

Funny, funny 

hidden boy

Shy, shy, shy

You leave me lonely 

every time

why, why, why

Promises, promises 

made and forgotten

or left alone, black as blood

rotten, rotten, rotten

Empty, empty

searching girl

lost, lost, lost

So different than

you were before

life's dire cost

Memories, memories

made and forgotten

or left alone, black as blood

rotten, rotten, rotten

Hold on. Stop.

I don't think you understand. 

I wrote this story. Read the book.

My wish is your command.

Wait. I'm the heroine.

The prince, the sunset? Mine.

It's too late. Your role's been cast.

You'd better learn your lines.

Slow down. Look around. 

You must be confused. 

The end's decided. You're to blame.

I live. I love. You lose.

When the sun comes up

who are you?

And do you like it?

Do you smile?

When the day starts

are you happy?

Are you singing?

Are you mine?

When you're with me 

do you feel it?

Is it just me?

Am I blind?

I know you see me

and you're smiling

Are you glad I 

crossed your mind?

There is a girl 

standing on the tracks

in the rain

For her, life is grey

a mist of hurt

a sea of confusion

She waits for headlights

pain

love

something

She feels nothing

Her dress is soaked

Her makeup running

until there is nothing left of her mask

Memories that aren't worth making

Memories insist on taking

breath away, and precious space

A feeling, and a face

Memories that leave me wanting

Memories that leave me haunted

Can't go back, I've lost the race

A feeling, and a face

Memories best left alone

Hidden secrets, skin and bone

A timeless lover's hiding place

A feeling and your face

Colored lights that shine too much

a greying fall of snow

A jolly plastic Santa Claus that yells out

ho ho ho

Hush, love, quiet now, you'll make them 

fall asleep

And all around the plastic tree

the plastic angels weep

Somewhere between 

the land and the sea

I'm still waiting for you

Do you still wait for me?

Somewhere between

the grey mists of time

There's a little toy soldier 

with dust in his eyes

Somewhere behind 

the ribbon of truth

There's a gold laying hen

and a fountain of youth

It's all there, I promise

If you take my hand

We'll go somewhere between Read more »

Your face is my kryptonite

your words make me grin

You promised me, promised me,

promise again Read more »

Sometimes you don't know it

when war comes to town

sometimes it's a quiet thing, a silent thing

a frown

a look

a slightly turned back

a jab that means you don't belong

a friendship with a crack.

Sometimes it is all too clear

when someone goes to war 

they come back changed, quite different 

from how they were before

A whole new group of friends, perhaps

and slightly altered clothes Read more »