Belated Halloween Merry Christmas!

Not my fav poem but was fun nonetheless. ^^

The October air is cool and crisp.
Leaves rattle like iron shackles on the boney limbs of trees,
the autumn night is clear
starts twinkle mischievously at the crescent moon.

A sound of a witches cackle,
the shrill screams of children.
Murmurs of brews and potions,
bottles of blood, brains, and eyeballs,
slithering fog, black cats and thick spider webs.
Pumpkins from their faces of fire, macabre laughing and smiling

The dim lighting of sporadically placed street lamps.
Dark persons move from shadow to shadow
a faint rustle of cape or
a shake of candy-filled buckets, bags, and pillowcases

Ghouls, goblins, vampires, witches, werewolves
all manner of things created of nightmares
roam the darkness,
skulking
and searching to fill their unquenchable thirst of sweets
whose scents linger in the air as faint as perfume.

Scraps

So I found this scattered among my random pages of scribbled pages of poetry. Don't know why I never posted this...

Oh well, now I am!

Your gone

left before the morning light,

you left a trail of bread crumbs for me to follow

but the crows ate all of the bread crumbs

How can I go where you have gone?

The light draws lines on the carpet

they cover our bed

and i watch as they climb up the walls

Sleep as eluded me

the stars twinkle suggestively at the moon

I sit and stare at the night sky

How I wish it could embrace me

I could be forever covered in its blanket of twilight.

Another morning has come

instead I get up and ready for work.

Halloween Haunting

Keeping up with the frightful Halloween spirit, I've written this little monster. I was thinking of using it for my next school assignment which is to write a poem... any suggestions? Yay or nay?

Well...Hope it gives you nightmares.

There is a face at the window
Its pale, almost translucent
A chalky white of something long dead
Its eyes of blood and flame
Its mouth blackened by ash

I mentioned it to mother
disbelieving she always was,
“9 year olds have such imaginations.”
She hastily changed the subject
trilled on about nothing.

he was always there
above the detached garage
In the dust filled attic
relics of a lost time,
worthless inheritances.

He watched me cross the yard
sick amusement
he stared out the window
watching,
waiting,
silently.

I checked out a book
“Haunting of the Northwest”

Encircling the house in a ring of white
purity
salt protection.

Mother sent me to my room,
talked to Father
deep into the night.
I held my breath, listening.
faint whisperings echoed upstairs
wild imagination,
local gossip,
foreign schooling.

I turned back into my room
against the white walls,
a black stain in the corner
his dark aura like tendrils
reached out into the light

He didn’t resemble anything of the man he once was
If he had even resembled a man at all
all was dark but his red-flamed eyes
and face etched in contorted shadows
he came
I didn’t try to suppress the scream

Blah Blah

Total blurb of nothingness.. blah blah zzzzzz

Dripping insecurities and doubts

She trudges through their murky pools

Sorting truth from lies, the important with the unimportant

Alone in the dim shadows

A pale ghost upon the gloomy backdrop

a waif like the mist

moving with the wind.

I was just rereading this and I realized that its not finished! It just hit me! *deep in thought*

I'll have to sit down sometime and try to finish it - but not today! :D

*singing "procrastination is my friend la la la..."*

Piano

Unbeknownst to this guy at school playing the piano, he became my muse. mu-hahahaha!

Piano

Wide muscular back and shoulders bent over the piano
head dropped and swaying provocatively to the music,

large hands trailing over the ivory keys

in a quick and sensual manner,

the sweet melody, though now gone, sticks to you like honey.

The Monster Behind The Saint

Don't know where this came from...one day I just felt like I had to write something and this is what came out. I like it, its a little bit silly.

You’re a manipulating gremlin,
Using your tears you weasel into everyone’s hearts
There you fester and tear
Maliciously delicious

You’re a spoiled brat
Everything is about you
Hiding your devil horns you bask in greediness
Taking everything, leaving nothing

Fake heart
Fake concern
Your face of distress a mask
Twisted monster behind the saintly veil
You’re a reptilian slug

Crashing Through

Take one last swing at me,

I know you long too,

I can see it in your hatred filled eyes

Black like onyx,

You wish me to bleed

Lying on this tear streaked floor

All your failures they were my fault

Thats what you say as I lay in a corner 

You hover above me screaming

screaming

SCREAMING

Trapped

I'm trapped 

Noises, words, pain

They all bombard me

Finding solace in nothing

The pain is unimaginable

But what is worst?

The pain in my flesh, spirit, or heart?

I no longer care,

I no longer feel

as I turn numb and close off everything I am

Mystery Piano Man

At school is a piano, open for anyone to play on.  This guy was playing today at wrote a quick poem about it.

Soft, lucid velvet to the ears,

Fingers gently sliding down each key,

Melody: complex, elegant, beautiful yet sad.

Depths of the eyes elsewhere,

remembering, longing, yearning.

Leaving

This is not about my ex if anyone is curious.  I just had to state that.  

You'll soon see that I'm no good for you.

Leave while your still smiling sweetly at me.

My pains, my problems,

will only leave you troubled.

We are not meant to be,

someday I hope you'll see that.

Forget we ever met

erase me from your mind I beg you

And then may the same be done to me.

Please let me forget your sweetness, serenity, and simple minded musings.

Your smoldering eyes stop me in my tracks

But it doesn't matter

In a few words you'll leave

running for the hills

leaving like I'm a plague.

I knew you would

knew all along

So, please leave while you still smiling sweetly at me.

Betrayal

Poor Yoshi!  I thought this picture says it all!  It lightens the mood from the darkness of the poem.

Punished by your peers
The ones you thought were your friends.
Segregated,
Out-cast,
Separated.
Why did they leave?
Now I’m alone,
Forgotten,
The anger fills me.
Why? I scream to the night
I’m frustrated,
Confused,
Misunderstood.
It was my decision that saved my soul and myself,
So why was that decision wrong in their eyes?
Do they not care what happens to myself? To my soul?
If I was to completely lose my identity and myself would they be happy?
Would they be happy if I was an empty soul in this shell of a body?
I left to save what was left of me.
So much has been lost
The desert of nothing has expanded,
Its feeding on my emptiness and sadness.
Now I have work to do.
So much soul searching,
Soul rebuilding
I’m tearing myself apart to find me.

Inspiration?? I want some!!

I'm weird I know, and inspiration for writing anything from poems, short stories, to novels and beyond are different from every person and is something that can hardly be pin-pointed to one event, one action in your whole life.  For example: you can't say, "Walk around the outside of your house, counterclockwise at midnight under the full moon (to heighten mind abilities) seven times, then walk inside you house and surround you computer, notepad (whatever you use to write with) with incenses and candles (like a shrine) by a window facing the moon and then you bake a cake.  While making the cake you must recite this mantra:

          inspiration come, inspiration come,

          like a cake that rises

          may you rise like this cake

          inspiration come, inspiration come.

After you bake the cake you must cut it into exactly seven pieces.  Each piece representing the seven walks around the house.  Each piece of cake you eat representing your awakening of the mind under the full moon. (so yes you will each the whole cake)  After, walk to your "shrine" barefoot and then the inspiration will come!  Like lightning! Taaa-daa!"

If inspiration was that easy we'd all be fat with 'mind cake' - but it is not.  Just the other night as I was sort of awake and asleep I thought of a fantastic poem.  The whole thing from beginning to end! It was amazing, I was so stunned with myself that I thought I should at least remember it till the morning. Hahaha...right.  So I completely forgot the poem when I woke up.  It was disappointing but here is the kicker, its not the first time that this has happened.  If it is not a poem its, a story that I' having trouble with, which I figure out how to fix it but then promptly forget how when I awake (most of the time but not always) 

So if anyone asks where my inspiration comes from I can say: when I'm partially awake, showers, Evanescence, nature, road-trips, and in my over-active imagination.