Nov 05
ViolaLover9's picture

Questions and Answers, In No Particular Order

Do you still think about him?

Puddles was the bravest of them all.

And what about the crumpets?

I prefer tea.

When do you remember?

5:52 AM.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

The moments when life is out of focus.

And where did she go?

Pluto’s first Prime Minister.

Faded into what?

If only I were a better writer.
 
Nov 05
ViolaLover9's picture

Summer


The way in which the sunlight reflected off the lake behind my house

Always reminded me of a pathway to heaven.

I never told anyone, but when I was seven,

Everytime my dad took me sailing

I would think to myself,

“Someday I’m going to die,

And I’m going to walk up that golden path

Into the clouds.”

Once, my dad saw me staring at the shimmering reflection

And asked me what I was thinking about.

I told him I liked how pretty the light looked, all glittery

And perfect in the moments before the sun set.

This, this was summer -

Too many thoughts and nothing but time to think them.

This was summer -

Lying on the grass and looking up at the tree

That stood tall above me.

The crackling of a campfire on the rocks,

Fed with newspaper and laughter.
Jun 15
ViolaLover9's picture

how i'm feeling better (or reasons that i love you)

1. i'm feeling better because it hurts you when i'm not. 
2. i feel okay because i know that if i say that and i don't mean it, you won't believe me.
3. i'm feeling semi-normal again because you made me laugh - and i didn't even have to make myself find something funny.
4. i miss you when you're not here, and when i'm feeling sad, i don't want you to have to be around me.
5. i might throw something if i admit to myself that i'm not feeling better at all, and so instead, i'm writing this. 
 
Jun 15
ViolaLover9's picture

Things that fall

They say that whatever comes up
Must come down 
But what about things that fall?

Is there some unwritten rule about
When they can come back up again?
When they can float higher
Chugging their way back up 
To their former vantage point
Like a tiny carnival balloon
Lifted by its helium engine. 

But when that balloon's engine stalls
It doesn't stay still in the air
It tumbles backwards, downwards
Falling ever so slowly
But undoubtedly earthbound.

And things that fall tend to keep falling
So that balloon won't rise again
Sometimes it feels like I won't either.
Maybe this is why this cavern of loneliness
Never seems to end.
Sometimes I doubt I'll ever
Find its bottom.

 

May 09
ViolaLover9's picture

Science Fiction Love Story Challenge From a Friend(7 Minute Write)

She was in space. The dust particles floated around her as she bounced on the moon, ger boots scuffed with remnants of the rocks her feet touched on. Her helmet pinned down her hair, but she had the irrational desire to take it off and let her locks flow free, and let her naked eyes take in the majesty of the vastness that surrounded her. She had always thought this was where she would be loneliest - on the moon, by herself, with no sound but her own breathing - but instead, it felt like the infinite blackness was supporting her, wrapping around her like a blanket. Looking out over the largest something she had ever seen, she felt an intense love for the only place she had ever called home - the blue orb she could see in the distance. When she was standing upon it, it had never occurred to her how beautiful it truly was. 
Apr 24
ViolaLover9's picture

Today


Today, I'm wearing Converse Sneakers.
Black and bruised, they've molded to my feet perfectly
Their scuffed edges supporting my heels
The old canvas hugging my toes
The toughness they have from coming out of all the dirt they've stepped through
Makes my step stronger, prouder, more upright.
Today, I'm wearing blue skinny jeans.
They've gotten rid of that new pants feel, and are at that place
Where they still fit but don't squeeze the oxygen out of your legs. 
I like that when I walk, I could be skipping or jumping or tumbling
And it wouldn't matter.
Today, I'm wearing my little sister's shirt
She always looks so effortlessly chic in whatever she pulls out of the drawer
I'm hoping this cropped camouflage-printed top holds some of that same magic
And that it rubs off on me. 
When I swing my arms, the soft fabric brushes against them
I think it means something that people can see my stomach
Apr 16
ViolaLover9's picture

My Honest Poem (after Rudy Francisco)

 I was born on December 6.
That makes me a Sagittarius, so supposedly, I'm an optimist that dreams BIG.
But that's not what my anxiety says when I’m falling into all the holes I've dug myself into on this never-ending loop inside my head.
I'm 5 foot 3 on a good day, I don't like to check how much I weigh, I can't play soccer to save my life and I always smile when I think I'm about to win an argument.
I'm still learning how to laugh, I sometimes realize something is supposed to be funny too early or too late
I was bald until I was two, and I still haven't figured out how to untie all of my tangles.
I like drinking tea. A LOT.
I've been told by my friends that I'm completely different once they get to know me, which makes me wonder what it's like to meet me for the very first time.
I get nervous whenever something crescendos, I think this is why my feelings build up too quickly.
Nov 04
ViolaLover9's picture

Read Me To See

Something like a slam poem - 7 minute writing
Have you ever stopped to think about 
The beauty of a lamppost?
A rosy haze surrounding it, winking at the moon
The only light in sight, it seems like
it's spreading itself wide, reaching up high
Standing strong and proud and hungry
For its fair share
In the black night it looks like
it's shining its own spotlight.
Have you ever stopped to look at
The beauty of a piece of paper
Crisp and pristine
Filled with invisible words and pictures 
That cover it from top to bottom
It is ready 
To receive the world.
Have you ever stopped to pick up
That crumpled candy wrapper
The one kicked aside in a gutter
long-lost and forgotten
It curls in on itself
Shielding itself and hiding inside
So that no-one can throw it away 
And mean anything by it.
It can't stand tall
Or catch the world with its whole self
Jul 10
ViolaLover9's picture

Life in 5 Sentences

My glorious, glamorous entrance: red and wailing, into the NICU because I'm breathing too fast.
My teacher tells my dad he doesn't have to worry about me being shy, because that morning, I had run into my two year old class, spread my arms wide, and said, "Hey everybody! It's CATIE!"
10 years old, staring at a room of fourth graders I've never met inCambridge, England, on the darkest January day; and I'm okay.
12 years old, discussing empathy in a room of kids from Jerusalem, the West Bank, and America.
14 years old, type, type, typing away, about to start freshman year halfway across the country; what happens now?
 
Jul 10
ViolaLover9's picture

Reddish Brown Hair

This poem just came to me one day; I've been trying to write it for a long time. Though it started out as being slightly autobiographical, it morphed into a series of thoughts. from the perspective of a fictional character. It got me thinking about writing a story with her narration, but for now this is her musings about a lost friendship

Can't you see me?
I'm the girl with the reddish brown hair.
The one you walked away from without looking back
The one you left with her fists raised and her eyes afraid.
Can't you see me?
I'm the girl with the light green eyes.
The one you stopped saying hello to 
The one you turned your back on
When she tapped your shoulder.
Can't you see me?
I'm the girl who bites her lip when she's confused
Like when you pretended not to understand the inside jokes
When you didn't come to the party
Or the play
Or the game.
Can't you see me?

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