poetry

stand off

I am currently decluttering my RedBubble Portfolio, to make way for more recent art that best represents who I am now, as well as to make it easier for customers to navigate the available products for sale. As a result I will be sharing some of my old creative writings here on WordPress, as a way of preserving them. In several cases my mind, opinions, beliefs, values and overall understanding of life have changed since the time I wrote these pieces, but I still feel that they are personally valuable reminders of the various stages of my life journey thus far.

This piece of writing was first posted at my RedBubble Creative Writing Portfolio.

Date of original post: 22 November 2010

Total views, at 2 May 2016:

Stand Off? A lament on distance and separation

Two figures standing face to face but separate.
A drift of dandelion seeds stirring in the space between us.
The light here is pale green diffused by a thick canopy of summer leaves.
Where to go from here?
There are no boundaries, no limits
to the many escape routes –
But I don’t want to escape.
Who is the hunter, the hunted?
The roles seem fluid, malleable, transferrable.
The distance is short, but seems eternal.
Cannot move closer:
The fear is overwhelming.
And were I to run, would you chase me?
If I turned and fled to the cover of the forest
Would you follow me?
Or would you abandon me to the elements?

 

dreaming in the daylight

I am currently decluttering my RedBubble Portfolio, to make way for more recent art that best represents who I am now, as well as to make it easier for customers to navigate the available products for sale. As a result I will be sharing some of my old creative writings here on WordPress, as a way of preserving them. In several cases my mind, opinions, beliefs, values and overall understanding of life have changed since the time I wrote these pieces, but I still feel that they are personally valuable reminders of the various stages of my life journey thus far.

This piece of writing was first posted at my RedBubble Creative Writing Portfolio.

Date of original post: 13 June 2011

Total views, at 2 May 2016: 172

dreaming in the daylight

dreaming
of sun-washed fields and windswept grasses
lonely open expanses and summer-brown pastures
grazing cattle on a far hillside
blackbirds singing their evening song
wide stretched boughs of ancient trees
and abandoned nests caught in the branches
sunset lingering on the undulating landscape
melody of windchimes carried far in the stillness
and there under the trees
a sleeping blue-eyed monster
waiting with eternal patience
to confuse, to devour, to destroy completely
the soul of this girl
naïve and loving
too eager to be loved
she thinks he has the answers
but it will all come to nothing

dreaming
of the moon rising high in the east and glowing red at dusk
of mythical beasts cast from the ocean
rotting in the heat
butterflies and moths locked in battle
swarms of gnats hover around the spirits of the dead
the chill sets in as the sun sinks low
stars flicker high in the darkening expanse
the waves churn louder on the shore
wash away the beasts
lie on the grass with the monster
pretend that somehow he can be changed to good
to love, to embrace, to connect
he awakes
nighttime descends
a single cry rings out
then silence
and nothing

 

miracles

I am currently decluttering my RedBubble Portfolio, to make way for more recent art that best represents who I am now, as well as to make it easier for customers to navigate the available products for sale. As a result I will be sharing some of my old creative writings here on WordPress, as a way of preserving them. In several cases my mind, opinions, beliefs, values and overall understanding of life have changed since the time I wrote these pieces, but I still feel that they are personally valuable reminders of the various stages of my life journey thus far. Interesting to me are pieces like this one, ‘miracles,’ which I now see – with the magic of hindsight – were major red flags of the growing severity of my then not-yet-diagnosed clinical depression. How things have changed for the better since I sought professional medical help…

This piece of writing was first posted at my RedBubble Creative Writing Portfolio.

Date of original post: 11 August 2011

Total views, at 2 May 2016: 390

 

miracles

If I believe that love is real
and that it is in the realm of the possible:
that someone could ever love me…
my countless reasons for my unworthiness listed in cold ink and sharp clarity
page after page after page

If I were to find that someone could love me – capable of the impossible –
and that I was loved for who I am, despite who I am
though I have nothing to offer him…
men only want women who look plastic perfect, don’t they?
Girls like me aren’t ever good enough

If I were to somehow love and be loved,
found good enough in the sight of a stranger (for who could both know me and love me?)
it would be no less than a true miracle
and this is the part where I begrudgingly admit
that I hope miracles can happen.

Peering into a person’s soul

I am currently decluttering my RedBubble Portfolio, to make way for more recent art that best represents who I am now, as well as to make it easier for customers to navigate the available products for sale. As a result I will be sharing some of my old creative writings here on WordPress, as a way of preserving them. In several cases my mind, opinions, beliefs, values and overall understanding of life have changed since the time I wrote these pieces, but I still feel that they are personally valuable reminders of the various stages of my life journey thus far.

I have noted the amount of views that the original post received on RedBubble prior to deleting it from my portfolio there. Just for my own interest’s sake.

This piece of writing was first posted at my RedBubble Creative Writing Portfolio.

Date of original post: January 2010

Total views, at 2 May 2016: 449

Something about peering into a person’s soul

2010-01-02

Lover and monster.
My desire to read the soul.
What words exist within the frame I see before me?
I would rip you open if I could.
Monstrous longing to know, truly know, who resides within.
These mortal vehicles are walls between our spirits.
We decorate ourselves in empty fabrics and gold and paints.
We position these bodies as statues.
Polishing the surfaces.
Cleaning the stains.

For what?
So that we can pretend?
Lie? Deceive?
We know that we are more than this.
We congratulate ourselves on upholding the delusions.
We cut ourselves in pieces. We tell ourselves vile fantasies.
I do not want these lies.

I will peer into the soul that fearfully cowers behind your eyes.
I will read the words written on your heart.
I will try to see you as the Creator sees you.
Frail, broken and damaged. Alive, beautiful, and eternal.