VSSPoems, Week 3

September 21st

Everything decays

Rots away

To become #ruins

 

Glorified

As it dies

Living relics

 

Attractions

For the masses

Til its gone

 

The tragedy

And mystery

Of life

 

 

September 23rd

Tears wash the soul

Nourish the heart

Cleanse the dark

Like the #rain

We danced in

As children

Carefree

And naive

Life’s burdens

Yet on our shoulders

 

September 24th

I wish to #stitch

a stunning mask

to confound

and astonish

 

I wish to #stitch

a matching cloak

to keep secrets

and mystify

 

I wish to #stitch

a wonderful lie

to become my life

and satisfy

 

September 25th

Darkness was always there

Filling the air

in thick, rolling clouds.

The thunder was loud

after the flashes of lightning.

You would have thought it blinding

except it was familiar

even the shivers

it sent down your spine.

It was divine.

It was #Castlevania.

 

September 26th

My #luggage seems light

Laughable

I hide it away

Screaming internally

Can’t let them see

I’m vulnerable

Struggling

Gasping

Fighting my demons

 

What else is there to do?

My burdens are mine

Guilt is there

If I share

And so I lock them up

And battle myself.

 

September 27th

The waters still

Shimmer and shine

Beneath pale moon light

Her face is reflected

Ivory skin

Speckled by sunlight

Green eyes blossom

Like new buds

On a growing tree

Nature’s #mirror Is friendlier

Than a stranger’s gaze

She welcomes the image

Strong and powerful

BraveWrite, Week 3

September 19th

She fears its gentle hands have found her again. It whispers in her ear all the things she shouldn’t to hear. The truth long gone, her heart long since battered, she welcomes the cold. It hollows her out. Vacant of emotion. It’s too late when she names it. #Depression

 

September 20th

In the state of #jejune, we were all consumed by our fables. We were a unique center whose storms were unlike any other. The Gods aimed for us, small and insignificant though we KNEW different. But then our eyes opened. We wore others’ shoes and heeded our empathy.

 

September 21st

Their trunks, china cabinet, and every nook and cranny served as a #cache for their precious items. The house seemed willing to burst at the seams with their collections. It was a glorified storage unit filled with the sentimental. She worried it would go up in flames

 

September 22nd

The world is full of the #esoteric. It haunts the realms of math and science. It teases everyone. But it belongs to the artists most of all. The ones who draw, paint, compose and write for themselves, hoping some will understand. They bare their hearts for acceptance.

 

September 23rd

Wanna know what I think? she asked all of a sudden.

What? His eyebrows raised above a curious gaze.

I think life is a marinade in which we all #marinate. It’s experiences, people, and choices are all the spices we added, She smiled and nudged him, Don’t you think?

 

September 24th

The clock chimed #twelve in the middle of the night and summoned the witch from her workings. Her feet bounced down the stairs, jostling the book she held in her arms.

Ah, there it is, she said while flipping through the aged pages. Clearing her throat, she began to recite.

 

September 25th

The abyss was #tempting, as always. It called to her in seductive whispers. It threaded its fingers into hers, holding her hand, pulling. Her shoulders drooped in defeat and matched the dark bags under her eyes. The image in the mirror wasn’t her so why continue?

You Idiot

You Idiot

How is it you can’t see

What’s in front of your face?

 

You Idiot

You think your words or lack of

don’t hurt me?

 

You Idiot

Think again about what you’re doing.

It speaks loud and clear

 

You Idiot

Take stock of yourself and improve

Or lose those who’d help you.

 

You Idiot

Look in the mirror for worth

Inside you and around you.

 

 

Sleeping Reality

Sleep is a sweet treat

Filled with delicious dreams

Sinking deep into my mind.

I tape over those pesky seams

 

The ones dividing me

From reality.

They are fantastical paths

Winding stairways so free.

 

I want to walk them all

Every oddball scheme

Every horrid thought

See the information I glean

On me.

 

Dreams are mirrors

Absorbing our image

Distorting, contorting it

Like a puppet almost finished.

 

I snooze the alarm clock

Again, again, again

Dodge the waking hour

For the dreaming one’s my domain.

 

Awake at last, it feels

When eyelids close

And darkness bows.

 

 

She Only Wants A Mirror

She only wants a mirror.
To know who she is.
To know where she is going.

She’s lost.
She’s afraid,
And fighting feelings of hate.

She’s confused.
She’s weak,
And losing those she loves.

She’s hiding.
She’s searching,
And degrading what she finds.

She wonders,
About many things,
But dwells on how might feel to be whole.

She’s grabbing,
She’s grasping,
And holding on for straws.

Why can’t she find it?
Why can’t she believe what she finds?
Why is she weak?

She asks questions,
And hears only repetitions.
She needs to see, not hear.

She’s losing belief,
In what she has,
And it’s killing her inside.

She pretends,
She lies,
And she’s learning to die.

Her hands are empty,
Her knees are weak,
She’s not strong enough.

Pen and Paper

A pale face stares back,
Greenish blue eyes,
Pierce a wanderer’s soul,
From a reflective pool.
‘Is the writing any good?
‘Am I living my dream?’
‘No’, the quiet voice answers,
As a tear glides gently down
A fair freckled cheek.
Anger swells in the woman
Before the soul in the mirror.
‘I will be one day’
She says out loud,
Squaring off against her fears.
Turning her back to the world
She walks away.
Fingers tightly gripping
Pen and Paper.
Words scrawled on pages,
Day after Day,
For ages upon ages.
The woman returns to the mirror
The calm pond, clear,
Shows her soul’s darkest self.
No words need to leave her lips
The quiet voice is stronger now,
‘It is time.
‘Go show the World,
The Magic you can make.’
With a silent nod
The woman walks away once more.
Pride fills her step,
And soon
Her words will reach once deaf ears.