Knowing Myself
When did I go
From the one
Always trying to fit in
To the one
With her foot in her mouth
Who couldn’t care less?
I always used to be the one
Molding myself
To fit whoever’s ideals
So I could be in the middle
It’s a little confusing
Because
I still have no idea
Who I am
But it would seem
Now I know
Exactly who I’m not
And another…
Prince Charming
I’m looking for my Prince Charming
It seems we’ve missed each other
I’d thought I was supposed to meet him
Long before now
No, then?
You haven’t seen him?
You’re sure?
Well, thanks for your time.
Have you–
No!
I don’t want yours!
So sorry to bother you.
How about you?
Yes, you
Why won’t you answer me?
Fine, I’ll leave you alone.
Don’t worry
I won’t ask you too
I’m finally understanding
None of you know where he’s hiding
None of you can
I’m looking for my Prince Charming
And I have to find him myself
This date was also my mom’s birthday–Happy Birthday Mom! (Wish this poem was happier…)
Thoughtless
They say I should be proud
To hold my head up high
To get straight As
And have a job
And understand the world
They say that it’s amazing
All the things that I can do
That I can work
That I can think
That I have a million thoughts in my head
I say that I agree
That I’m proud of who I am
That I wouldn’t change a thing
That I’m okay with being this way
That I find it easy to be
I say to you now
That I am lying
That in my secret, black heart
That sometimes I wish I wasn’t me
That sometimes I wish I was thoughtless
Look, the poem that was supposed to be here days ago!
Mediator, Traitor
They call me the Peacekeeper
The friend in the middle
The sibling in the center
Holding up the caution flags
Mediating a truce
They tell me that I’m wonderful
That I’m a true friend
But I don’t feel the same
I don’t want to be the one
Sorting out the facts
I don’t want to be the one
Taking all the blows
I don’t want to be the one
On whom you unload all your crap
I hate to break it to you
But I’m not bulletproof
I love you
I love her
I love him
I love them
But after all this time
Somehow I’ve lost my love of me
You say I play the mediator
But I call myself a traitor
Because I’ve lost my own sense of justice
Trying to appease you all
I tell you I think the same
I tell her I think the same
I tell him I think the same
I tell them I think the same
But what I really think
Has been lost
Because I much too afraid
Of losing
You
Her
Him
Them
They call me Peacekeeper
The one with all the patience
The one who sees it all
But someday I’m going to lose it
And find myself
Heyy, look! A single poem appearing on the day it is supposed to! Gee, what a NOVEL idea, no? 😀
My Words
I put a pen to paper
And told it to write me
A sonnet
A haiku
A limerick
An epic
A rhyme
Anything that spoke to souls
With meaning deeper than the sea
And words that flowed like rivers
But when I put the pen to paper
None of that flew out
Instead came choppy verse
With heartfelt words
That pleased me even more
And yet another poem for the blog that is up late. Gosh I’m good, aren’t I? 😀
What Was Once Ours
Once upon a time
It was our activity
Our talk
Our time
But now it’s not mine
It’s yours
And theirs
Now I’m on the outside
Hating it
Wishing the talk would end
Before it drives me
Mad
This used to be fun
It used to be our thing
Before I couldn’t get enough
Now there’s too much
And I don’t matter
But I still can’t bear
To make you stop
This poem is addressed to all of my readers–yeah, you! It’s a fun poem that I wrote on a whim, to be honest. 😀 It also marks me being on schedule again! …yeah, let’s see how long THAT lasts, shall we? 🙂
Me and Poetry
I suppose I should finally let you know
That up until I few months ago
I found poetry to be
Horrible
Useless
Annoying
And I refused to write it
I don’t think I need to tell you
That this opinion has changed
And now I find it
Fun
Relaxing
Therapeutic
And essential to my writing life
I believe, then, I should warn you
I don’t intend to stop
Even if my words are
Muddled
Silly
Confusing–
You’ll just have to deal with it
OK, so, after I wrote some of those poems I got some remarks that they were very personal and maybe I shouldn’t be writing them down. This is my response.
My Soul on Paper
You say I shouldn’t
Write down
The feelings in my heart
But if I don’t
Then tell me
What is writing about?
If I can’t write
With my emotion
Tell me what’s the point?
To me
Writing is sharing
A part of yourself
And not all parts
Are happy
So why should I pretend
That’s all I am?
I refuse to write a lie
So if I write something
That you say
Is very personal
I consider this a compliment
For you see
If I can place a bit of
My soul on paper
Then I have succeeded
As a writer
On July 1st, I honestly couldn’t believe when I had to turn over my calendar page. June flew by so fast! On that note, I started off with a title and ran with what came from my pen!
Where Did June Go?
Where did June go?
Did you hide it under your bed?
Did you lose it in the garden?
Did you leave it somewhere?
I seem to recall
That it was right here
Yesterday
I heard it
I touched it
I smelled it
I tasted it
I saw it
But I don’t remember moving it
Or putting it away
But then I don’t remember
Giving it to you
Friend, if you find June
Bring it back to me
I had it for a time and yet
I can’t remember it at all
And thus I can’t imagine
I got to know it as I should
I miss it, too, you see
So, my friend, just let me know
Where did June go?
On this day so long ago, I went to an art museum with my friends and had the thought that appears in the first three lines of this poem. That, obviously, spiraled out into the entire poem and gave me one of the longest poems of the trip!
Talent
I wish I had the talent
To paint pictures
That look like photographs
Or move my body like the wind
And dance with fluid grace
I wish I had the ability
To climb the highest mountains
And celebrate from their peaks
Or win a million awards
For something that comes easily
I don’t
But I have the talent
To paint pictures
With vibrant words
And move my pen like the wind
To write down my dreams
I have the ability
To climb the highest mountains
With my characters
And win a million awards
For them too
All I need to do
Is never give up hope
And remind myself each day
That for each thing I can’t do
There’s something that I can
My Life is a Notebook 