Dec 23
poem 3 comments challenge: Love
Maisie N's picture

Quartet

A broken soul cannot be fixed
As dead as a bird with broken wing
And I care so much about you but
I don't want you to miss all the things
That someone else could give you
You must not wonder, though it may seem strange
That I can no longer look at you.

I do not posess the words to describe
The things you make me feel
The capacity of birdsong is finite
And I, myself, have never been musical
No note I know seems to justify
What is right and what is real
You occupy my thoughts--my mind
You fill the pages of my journal
My soul bleeds the color of your eyes
But still I can't make sense of the world.

The birdsong changes, when you catch my eye
To the beautiful blend of a string quartet
My heartbeat, the metronome
Your words the sound of a beautiful violin
You take away all other senses
Ruining-- obliterating-- my concentration
Dec 22
Maisie N's picture

Resist

I cannot take another day
I cannot take another minute
I will not let myself grow numb
I will not let myself get used to it.
We stand in the streets
We shout, we resist 
But how much more
Can we take of this?
When every day we speak
But our voices are silenced
I cannot, I will not
This is not progress.

Yet I cannot stop wishing
For my voice to be stronger
For my heart to keep beating
For my arms to get longer
Wishing there was something I could do
For I have taken treetops, cars
And shooting stars
But I still cannot reach you. 

I pride myself on the pieces of me
That have been labeled as flawed
And unfit to be seen
What makes me an outlaw
Is what makes me, me
My voice, my power
My grandmother's jewelry.
My heart that beats slow
and my amateur poetry.
Of all the things that I have hidden

Dec 07
Maisie N's picture

The Quiet

A decoration, a debutante
A perfect piece of arm candy
All the things I'm supposed to want
But that I'll never be.

So many years of dress codes
Of being too fat or too skinny
Too muscular, too out-of-shape
Too prudish or too slutty

Cover your shoulders
Cover your legs
Cover eyes
Cover your mouth
Don't speak or he will hurt you
Don't move or she will lash out.

Bad things don't happen to pretty girls
Who dress right, and know their place
Bad things don't happen to pretty girls
As long as they stay quiet and save face.

I am strong, I swear
Though you tell me that I'm weak
Because I dare to fit a profile
With which you don't agree.

I am strong, I swear
Not in spite of my feminity
But because of all the women
That dared to march before me.

I am strong, I swear
My hands can tear down cities

Dec 02
Maisie N's picture

What You Left Behind

A map of the New York Subway
Surrounded by an array of bib numbers
An overflowing, white bookcase
Photographs too old to remember
A prayer bowl, a piggy bank
An empty bottle of perfume
A castle, a home, a sanctuary
Locked away in a tiny room.

The room is too small
For the memories it holds
Of childhood bliss
And doing what we were told
Of when you were here
And when life was easy
Never confronting the fear
Of our own mediocrity.

The arrogance of youth
Of thinking you know everything
Of believing you’re in love
But never really feeling
The ignorance of loss
The wonderful naivety.
Then the other shoe drops
And you feel yourself falling.

I wanted to do everything on Earth with you
I wanted to see all there was to see
But the world is so much bigger alone
Than it ever was when you were with me.
You never wanted me to change
Nov 22
Maisie N's picture

The Tourist

I ran away from home today
My feet pounding in time with my heart
I ran away from everything
For a new beginning and a fresh start
I ran away from you
From your love, and from your arms
I ran away and watched the sunset
I cut across a hayfield and was back before dark.

Life starts all over again
When air begins to bite in autumn
Rosey cheeks and noses bring
The promise of a better tomorrow
The trees catch fire slowly
Wilting with the summer blossoms
It's the beginning and end of everything
The remembrance of all that's forgotten.

I want to do everything on Earth with you
I want to travel and see the world
I want to go to the places only locals know
I want to paint with made up colors.

I'm sad to have avoided these cliches
As I hold my own hand to warm myself
This walk feels lonlier than ever today
I'm worried for my sanity and my health

Nov 12
Maisie N's picture

Meet Me in the Woods

The sun has set
On the December day
The path is dark
But we know the way
Skis slide soundlessly
Over freshly packed snow
As we look to the stars
To tell us where to go.

And I wish that every night was this simple
I wish that life was always this easy
Because we become masters of these trails
Before the end of the ten-week season.

Some things I fear I'll never learn
Some things I fear I'll forget
And I'm terrified of my own nostalgia
Because nostalgia often leads to regret.

Oct 08
Maisie N's picture

What I Never Said

Sometimes I wonder
How different I would be
If I had never met you
And you had never met me. 
Maybe we'd both be better off
Whatever that might mean
But you should know that life without you
Isn't as easy as I thought it would be.

I've spent a year thinking about
All the things I should have said
Because who'd have thought that some drunk idiot
Would run you off the road and leave you dead?
This is what happens to feelings
That refuse to be read
They grow bigger and bigger
Until you're left
With a painting in a color
That doesn't truly exist
But it's coursing through my veins
And I can't get rid of it.

Because the world keep selling cages
To all the hearts that were once free
Because the lonely ones locked up in museums
Needed a little bit of company
But your heart couldn't be confined
By rules dictated by society
Sep 25
Maisie N's picture

Different

You and I are tangled up
Like the headphones in my pocket
Because it feels like time is running out
And there's nothing to stop it
All stories end in time
But I don't think I'm ready for this
Snow melts into spring time
And I long for your kiss
I'm clinging to something
That's already gone
Reality destined to become memory
Words destined to become a poem.

We're a worn-out story that everyone knows
A seed is planted and a tree will grow
Ugly ducklings turn into swans
Four leafed clovers bring good luck
When life give you lemons
You make lemonade
And when life gives you nothing
You turn to cliches.

But I am the rough around the diamonds
A length of staw in a heap of needles
The cloud that hides the silver lining
Madness with no method to reveal.
I'm a cowardly lion or an unclever fox
I'm the unprecedented storm
That comes before the calm.
Sep 14
poem 0 comments challenge: First
Maisie N's picture

Atlantic

I could see without my eyes
The first time that you kissed me
Soundless with your lips on mine
Let your hand in mine deliver me
Feel my bare feet on the ground
Blessed be the mystery
Of love.

Because while I am a sinking ship at sea
You are a roaring riptide
My last chance at a life lived completely
Without my regrets stinging my bleary eyes
Looking back on fuzzy memories.
How I used to live-- to survive.

After I was built up for years
You were so quick to knock me down
An all-too-painful reality check
I become so detached when you're not around
Because you are a giant and I'm but a speck.
Throw me in the ocean to see if I drown
See if I swim or if I sink
Because I get stronger
Every time that you leave me
I'm more powerful
Every time that you blink.

I wish for once I could close my eyes
And I wouldn't be forced to continue to see
Sep 14
Maisie N's picture

Vermont in Words

    I hold my breath instinctively as I walk down Main Street. The iced coffee from Carol’s Hungry Mind Cafe that I hold in my right hand sloshes as I break into a light jog. I don’t let myself breathe in until I open the door and smell the words, freshly printed onto clean, white paper, filling my senses. I barely have time to smile at Liam, standing behind the counter, before I walk as fast as I can to the back of the store, where they keep the best books. “Hello to you too, Maisie,” he calls after me and I laugh, in spite of the distinct urgency of this particular errand. I plop myself down on the brown, suede couch that smells like newspapers and rainy Sunday mornings. I contemplate the gigantic bookshelf sitting in front of me and wonder where it will take me next.

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