So that we may not simply survive, but that we may live.

Do you guys remember awhile back when Thane interviewed me? Well in that post Thane and I discussed the atrocities of my attempts at writing poetry. Well we recently discovered that, contrary to previous beliefs, when I am upset enough my poetry isn’t half bad. So, partially as an apology for my absence of late, and partially because I feel like the message they contain is important, here are my most recent poems.

(Some of you who frequent my site may have already stumbled across them, if not here they are! All poems are also on the Writing Snippets page)

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I Am Not Pretty

I am not pretty. I am not a purple pansy who shivers at the cold nor a monarch butterfly painted with gold. I am not a summers breeze or a friend who fills your mind with ease. You mistake me for a doll, smile always on my lips. A glorious apparition filled with helpful tips. I am not a giggle or the rustling or the leaves. I am not pretty, for that is only what the eye sees.

You mistake me sir, for this is not about my looks. It is simply an observation, like counting pebbles in a brook. My appearance has nothing on my mind, a beautiful creation that only a loving God could design.

I said I am not pretty, for that is right don’t you see? But I am beautiful, beautiful as the raging of the sea. I am the crashing of the waves the anger of the wind. I am beautiful and tragic, I am cruel but I am kind. I am not a gentle breeze I say but I am cold and I am sharp. I am the the beating of war drums not a melancholy harp. I am beautiful like the ice that shimmers in the sun. But I will cut you in an instant, and you will not be the only one.

So listen closely my friend. Read until the end. For I am not pretty which is a fact you like to ignore. However I am beautiful, beautiful as a war. 

~~~~~

Lonely Forgotten Place

There is a long forgotten place, a place I like to hide. Come along with me, for I will be your guide.

It’s far away, deep within the recesses of my mind. Come along with me, for in there you are blind.

It’s a lonely open space, with daisies in a field. It is not a weapon, not a thing that I can wield. It is, perhaps, a cage.
It protects against the wars I wage.
Yet sometimes I become afraid,
Sometimes I do not wish that I had stayed.
One day the doors may swing closed, and I will be left forever enclosed within these walls that threaten to keep me in.
As I shout “but there is a war yet to win!”
I am afraid my friend, for all good things must come to an end.

And how much more do I deserve this fate, then that man there, standing at the gate?
My anger burns against this man you see?
For I thought he was good, but oh he wounded me.

I do not blame him, or at least so I say.
But my own jealous flame that I tended to each day.

I was selfish, don’t you see?
I was selfish, little ole me.

Why is it that one so broken and so bruised, is the one that is so often refused? “I didn’t even ask him!” I scream out with a roar. I didn’t even ask him, and yet I wanted something more.

I built this cage all on my own. I lined it’s walls with spikes. So why do I bemoan my misfortune when it decides to strike?

I am a lonely little girl, within her walls of stone.

I am a lonely little girl, sitting all alone.

~~~~~

The Fae and Her Fee

Not long enough ago, just too far away, there lived a young fae. Or at least so they say.

Now this Fae wasn’t sweet nor was she kind. She was small and petite, she played tricks on your mind. She’d ask for your name, and give you two cents. You’d think it a game and barter three pence. She’d ask for your name with a gleam in her eye. You’d give her your last, and ask for more pie.

For Fae food is legendary oh don’t you see? So she would say yes, but for a small fee. And you would consider, such the fool that you are. What more could she want, you to lasso a star? She smiled and laughed and giggled along, you never suspected that you might be wrong. But finally she told you her small little fee. She wanted a key, not so big around. She wanted the key that opened the town.

You foolish boy, didn’t you hear? A Fae’s favorite part is having you near. You tasted her food, you gave her your name. You gave her an non-refutable claim. She owns you now, you must do as she says. It’s over now boy, you ruined it all. It’s over now boy, your city will fall.

~~~~~

Lover of the Sea

A little girl stands upon on a hill,
Her skin exposed to the cruel wind’s chill. Her eyes uplifted to the grey horizon, she waits and watches the sea men die in.

For a hundred years she has stood alone, waiting for the man she called her own.
For once upon a time he promised, long ago when the sea was calmest, that he would return to her one day. But then that poor boy sailed away.

So she waits and so she stands,
His beating heart still in her hands, and so she watches the stormy horizon. So she watches the sea men die in.
Her prayers have always been for naught, for that same night his ship was caught. It sank in the swells and sunk down to the deep. And there her lover lays forever asleep.

Take caution from this tale, you girls who love the sea. Take caution from this tale, or you will be just like me.

For I am the girl alone in the hill. I am the girl whose stubborn will has not allowed me solace. For somewhere in a world so flawless, my lover once came home.
My lover would return from the foam, from somewhere tragic he once did roam.

~~~~~

Bleeding heart

I am tired of being a bleeding heart,
Pouring out my soul with every word.
With each injustice my logic does depart, 
My righteous anger forever stirred. 
Battle after battle, all the wars I wage.
Battle after battle, my blood and tears combine.

Bloody and vicious as the middle age. 
They say sour fruit stems from a sour vine. 
I stand up and scream, with froth on my lips, Anger burning beneath my porcelain skin “Viva lé revolution. Shatter the chains. Break the whips”
The longer we wait my patience wears thin.

They say that if you want peace prepare for war, Haven’t enough injustices been done? So then what reasons are we waiting for? Til we die at the wrong end of a gun? 

I am tired of fighting for those who give up so soon. Those who leave their dreams untouched. So do not wake me til the clock strikes noon, or to your weapons feebly clutch. 

For demons do not dance at dawn, 
But in the darkness of the night. 
And we soldiers, we must carry on. 
We soldiers must prepare the fight. 

But I am tired of the blood, I am tired of the pain. I am tired of the flower’s wilting bud. 
We, my friends, are trapped in a hurricane. From which I can not see an escape. So let us lay and sleep my friend,
As the coming dangers take shape. 
Let us lay and sleep until the world we must defend.

~~~~~

Kintsukori

I am but a piece of broken pottery, stitched together with gold.
I am not a wizard ancient, nor a hero long foretold.
I am but a lowly peasant, chained within my humble abode.
A missed opportunity, a prince within a toad.
The waters of my tears grow stagnant, my complaints forever old.
I do not own a sword or a treasury of shimmering gold.
I attempt to say that I’m content within this life I live.
Moving ever onward, so much effort left to give.
My dreams grow ever grander, they take flight before my eyes.
Yet somehow I still hope that with them I may rise.
But then life reminds me of what I have been told.
I am just a piece of pottery whose cracks are filled with gold.

~~~~~

Each and every one of these poems (except perhaps for the Fae and Her Fee) I have written when I’m going through a really really bad hour, day, or week. In fact this last one, Kintsukori, I wrote last Sunday after a two+ hours long breakdown over some math homework that exploded into lies running through my head about how inadequate of a person I am. Kintsukori, also known as Kintsugi, is the Japanese art of repairing something broken with resin and gold powder. In essence this poem was my desperate attempt to remind myself that I don’t have to be a hero to be worth something. That I don’t have to achieve my every wild dream to be happy. And yes, each of these poems are rather depressing, but they are all cries from my heart. I’m putting these out there for you today because I want you to know that other people struggle too. And that no matter what you are going through that there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel, and there will always be people ready and willing to listen. If any of you ever need to talk I am MORE THEN WILLING to stay up all night and talk to you. Maybe you just need to rant, or maybe you need advice, maybe even just a friend. I am here for you, God is here for you, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Please please please never hesitate to ask for help. It is not a sign of weakness, it just means that you’ve had to be strong for too long, and that’s ok. You are not called to be Atlas, you can put down the world once and awhile. There are people who want to come alongside you and help you carry your burdens.

I’ll close this out with one of my favorite sayings:

“Tomorrow will be a better day”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then I’ll say it again.”

No matter who you are, no matter what your situation. You are seen, you are heard, and you are loved.

Namárië,

~V