Feb 02

Ordinary Girl


*more to come soon. look for a piece of the same name. i'll add this at the top and continue from where i left off*

She was an ordinary girl. It was an ordinary Monday morning and nothing was wrong. The car door grumbled angrily as she opened it. She ducked out saying a hurried goodbye to her older sister and slammed the door behind her. A light drizzle was coming down. It snatched in her hair and left tiny droplets. She hunched her shoulders against the cool autumn wind. It frisked around her in a manner that pulled at her sleeves and whistled through her warm layers. She shivered slightly as she walked quickly towards her school. The asphalt sidewalk was uneven in places. The rain that had been coming down steadily since early that morning had gathered in the divots. Water splashed up from a puddle she stepped in on to her jeans. It seeped into her shoes and skin immediately, adding to the damp feeling she already had. 
Jan 26
rant/rave 1 comment challenge: Slam

A Rant On All The Things I Haven't Screamed About In A While

how can you climb
up when
the world keeps pulling
you down?

it is hard.
i'll say that.

i think that the spiteful words would be
raindrops on a sunny day.
they keep coming,
even if you put an umbrella up.

(and even then
you still get wet)

and hopelessness
could be those days that
the sun comes up,
but you never really see it.

(because its been
hidden away behind the clouds)

and the fake
laugher, smiles, agreement, and faces
that you try so hard to keep coming
throughout the day,

could be when the sun tries to shine through the clouds
(those partly cloudy days).

why must everything be so
hard,
and muddled
and broken?

for one day
can't we have some peace?

its a never ending
struggle
of balance
and power.
Jan 23
poem 1 comment challenge: Love

10 Steps

At first, it's 
quiet.
But not quite
silent.
It is a tranquillity.
And there is still an unworldly presence
that you can hear.
A power.
In it.
In you.
It is a tangible substance.
Dense, oily, heavy.
The power will engulf
you.
Crush you in its unyielding grip
if you're not careful.
For it is dangerous. 
But it is kind.

Second,
a small swish.
Your legs.
Pumping furiously.
Propelling you forward.
The quiet is slightly broken.
A hairline fissure.
A seam.
It's still there though.
Waiting.
Your arms will tighten.
Squishing your ears.
Faster.
You will feel the part
of the waters in your ears.
Through your hands.
It is a glorious feeling.

Third,
the power will stretch tight.
Taught.
And then it will snap.
Your head will surface.
Inhale.
A release of pressure.
Audio download:
10 Steps.m4a
Jan 23

Magic

By My Younger Brother, Sam-- Age 10

People think of magic as
pulling the bunny
out of
the hat.
But magic is
something more.
Magic is something in
all of us.
Something in our head.
Only if we can
imagine
it comes trues.
If you don't think it's there,
it's not there.
Magic is there.
It's always there.
It's just the people who
choose to see it.
Magic is belief.
Magic is imagination.
Magic is fun.
Magic is at the top of
every tree you climb--cuz at the top
there is something up there
that you don't feel
at the bottom--the sense of awe.
Let all your worries
drift away and
embrace the magic.
I feel magic when I look up
at the stars at night
and think there's more out there
then just the tiny
planet that we
live on.
More than factories,
trains,
planes,
pollution--global warming.
Jan 16
poem 5 comments challenge: Slam

Bystander


Words.
unspoken, on frivolous
lips.
Actions.
undone, with no
purpose.

You care
enough
(but not quite
enough).

Avert your gaze.
No questions asked.
Don't worry,
you're fine.

You just don't want
to be in
their
shoes.

Right?

Well,
aren't you,
couldn't you,
won't you?
It will happen
(eventually).

I've seen it.
I've heard it.

And sometimes,
I've done nothing.

Wouldn't you?

Look what they just did to that poor...
girl,
boy,
child,
friend.

Look what you just did to that poor...
girl,
boy,
child,
friend.

You stood by,
and,
watched.
How could you not?

No one
expected
anything of you.
You won't get the blame.

But won't you?
Audio download:
Bystander.m4a.mp3
Jan 14

Extraordinarily Ordinarily Extraordinary

I wear jeans to school.
They are blue.
And they are faded.
Like everyone
else's.
Mine don't have rips.
Except for the one
small hole,
that could have been caused
by a pencil.
Or maybe while I was out
playing soccer at
recess...
I own a pair with rips,
but I don't wear them much
--because they make
my knees cold--
I only wear them after swim meets
when my knees have been
sharpied.

Does that make me
just another
pair of jeans in the
crowd?

I play the saxophone in
band.
Mine is not mine,
because I borrowed it.
I forget the brand
but everyone has it.
I'll sit down.
Suck on my reed.
Play a scale.
Maybe another.
Give up after a measure
between 102 and 118.
Band begins.
I'm quiet.
I raise my hand
(in my head)
and give the right answer
(in my head)
Jan 11

not the one i know now.

no
i do not
feel sorry for
you

pick your head
up
and look straight
forward
because
the ground has
nothing
to offer you

smile
cry
laugh
feel
because shutting yourself
off
won't do you any
good

you are in control of who?
and who alone?
you.
act like it.
you are worth so
much more
than you think.

so no,
i do not feel sorry
for you because
you
can't improve if
you
don't try.

show me who
you
really are
not who
you
are trying to be.

be in control of
your
own destiny.

be the person i knew.
not the one i know now.
Jan 09

That Kind Of Writing


i want
to write.
no, not like that,
silly--
not the little
dizzy
scribbles
that pass for
a grade.
the first
winter snow
out the window
kind of writing.
the sniff
of green
kind of writing.
the spray of
the waterfall
over the cliffs
kind of writing.
when you
speak words
those people
will
listen to,
not
just hear.
the kind
of writing
that leaves
a sprig
of imagination
to grow.
the kind that
bubbles up inside
you
and you're brimming
too full to the top
and it seeps out your skin
and your hands
and it gushes out of your fingers.
i want to
write
the future
and the present
and the past
and what matters.
i want to write
the colors of the rainbow
and the birds in a V on the
autumn wind
and the crackling
of a fire in the woods
Jan 07
poem 1 comment challenge: Love

Little Black Dog

your eyes are
brown

i can see
you in them
only
you

because you have
everything
and
nothing
else to give

which
is
perfect

perrita negrita
i'm
taking spanish this
year
bold little dog
bold little black dog


you twitch in your
sleep
we say you're
dreaming
about eating

probably

you always snuggle
us
no matter what

right now i
can't
wiggle my toes
under you
little black dog

you tried to eat
the air we blew in your
face

we laughed
so hard

when you walk your
tail follows
up in the air

you climb
onto the couch
to the pillow
that's
"yours"
or
behind the
pillows
and
s-t-r-e-t-c-h
out

your tail often gives
me
a fuzzy meal

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