It is never sunny there,
that place where dreams do lie,
because dreams that are there,
they never come alive.

So
A swift brush by,
a quick hello-
goodbye for now,
a never ending dream
to run away from that place
which never should be seen.
Yet again,
alone I am,
when the visit does occur,
viewed through my eyes
it's no suprise,
everything turns back from on the mend.

Rivers & Tears

Crystal blue, trickling down the faces of Mountains,
stretching far beyond the surface,
Seeping through the pores of the earth it falls.

Once its journey begins does it change?
It moves and conquers new land,
It can be great or small,
extend deep into the heart or scathe its surface

Tell me, will it just dissapear with new lands and greater waters,
Or compltely from existence, from our minds.
Leaving behind drops of water,
also to be forgotten.

Do walk alone!

When darkness falls
I will
Be unafraid,
for I am equal.
Tell us all or tell none,
any other and I will not listen.
I will not tremble, or travel in packs.
You will not terrorize me,
I will not be terrorized.
Empowered because
I Will walk alone.
Women, people, Do walk alone!

I can still

Still.
Stand
Walk
Be lovely,
Be sad,
Move on
move back
success in things

Frustrated by things?

without you
I can
Thank you,
Still.

Who We Are

I am the blind,
You are the baren,
He is the ill
She is the amputated.

Our scars are unique,
but they do not hinder.

I do see,
- in ways they do not.
You will give birth,
- in ways they will never
He will be a picture of health,
- in places where they are diseased
She will grow all the limbs of a tree,
- and they will be stuck beneath it

We are the norm,
We can be fulfilled
We are the knowing, in ways others cannot.

Wait for the Whispers

It tears at the inside,
Shrieks because it knows nothing of the everything.
-Wait-
Born inside,
a star
minute details of life
Preceding spinning clock hands
Finally a smile from the inside.
after the hurt,
the loss,
anger,
the sadness,
disgust,
feelings,
of inadequacy.
During we take little pleasure,
Reflections will reveal the tears worth being shed,
and whisper how you have succeeded,
Wait for the whispers,
They will come.

Feelings

sometimes they arise from ash
igniting with the wind
they burn,

sometimes they fall from the sky
most certainly divine
they soothe

But
today they come from within,
projected from the past
they stir

This thing with a pulling force,
pulling at the worlds string
it sinks

Today drowning in the past
because that smile has hold
of life.

And approach is ever craved.
deep yearning from within
it grows.

How to approach yesterday
while insuring today
it's asked

An impossibility
Just never crave the past,
it's done.

like the ocean

Hesitancy of a lapping wave,

Slowly forward and quickly fall away.

love of being-

The moon's willing slave.

-

Shyly, it trickles from the ocean

floating foam,
carrying cries, Stop.

Unsure in it's motion

-
and so it falls only to return again,
one after another,
the beat of each lap
it gains momentum.

-

Suddenly from nowhere a thunderous roar,
tension was built up
Moon created rip tide,
meek wave no more.

Floating City

Up the stairs a floating sky,

held up with stilts,

Filled with passers by.

So small things move just down below

back and fourth,

quickly, nowhere they go

So I let the thoughts fill my mind,

wonderous city,

that I never looked to find.

Just a moment I did freeze the time

stopped, and drank it in

Know that you are mine,

Oh that floating city in the sky.

Reflections in my eye

Ripples became the pond,

and everything gave way.

Green beards swayed gently

aged by winds,

now less than a breeze...

And the swarm of flies,

intolerable

but they are what they are

and will move.

The sun gracefully dances

relfections from its eternal memory,

Calmness disguised,

Hidden in a moments wave,

when the ripples become the pond.

In the completeness of a life it will still.

And simply reflect the bird who once struggled,

The bird that flies.

All reflections in my eye.

The Waltz

They all step forward
I step back,
Supposedly a dance.

From what they see
they waltz with me
Oh but this cannot be.

Content i am
to sweep the floor
to turn around and leave.

From what they see
they waltz with me
Oh, but this cannot be

Because they dance
One step for them
and backwards twice i fall.

From what they see
they waltz with me
Oh, but this cannot be.

Spinning rhythms,
I cannot feel
Lost as an outside beat

From what I see
No waltz for me,
One is my way to be.

Awkward Grace

So small my butterfly,

how you do emit this grace,

Awkward do you flutter,

how alive it makes this place.

Such uncalculated motion,

when you sit upon my hand,

Your colors turn the world

undeniably, divinely planned

And how your beauty moves me,

Oh i want to weep.

Calm does sweep the world,

when i watch you sleep.

So small my butterfly,

how you do emit this grace.

Awkward do you flutter,

how alive it makes this place.

The Exchange of Words that Never were.

Words for who you are,
were,
wished to be?

Lost in lies
those three words,
never meant for me.

Yet there you stood smiling,
Flowers,
you wrapped with a bow.

Breath gone.
Heart stopped.
Suprised,
I could still ask you to go.

So there I sat,
quiet,
No thought in the air

and

In the end I walk,
Left moment,
Pretending not to care

Does grey exist?

Does grey exist?

where there are two white colors?

Or is there just one decision.

Can grey be the answer,

choosing one over another without concequence?

Satisfaction from the grey

or black and white life?

Confusing matters of satisfaction

and choice.

Does grey exist?

It will have to.

Because no one cries

She did not move
her frail limbs,
as the flies buzzed.

They seemed to wait
silently she pleaded,
only with her eyes.

They bulged with hunger,
extending past the physical,
She wanted.

Trying to pester her in to submission,
So they could feast.
She will not.

No one understands

She walks on water,
when She lives another day.

Why does no one move the world for her,
Why does no one save her,
Why does no one cry for her?

She will never know our currency,

never know a filling satisfaction
never taste a fine wine.

Human, She could know love

but
She cannot even see the beauty in life,

Because no one cries.

Words for why I stayed

We were,

and we became.

The more that we became,

the more i was,

to you.

And you grew from me,

love?

whilst i remained stagnant,

indifferent.

However

not in mind, thriving from yours,

Brilliant i say!

Intense listening,

Your words did enrapture me.

We were trapped,

I in a caged enamoured state,

my mind longing more pleasure

and you a blind love,

unreturned.

If I were a bird

Ascend,
I would to the skys.
Live,
I would for the sake
Born of feather,
I would be

...Free?

or
Regretless,
from a lack of choice,
Joyless,
from a lack of sorrow,
Loveless,
from lack of hate,

If I were a bird.

Past reflections

The motions came easy,

and i felt for you,

Just that something in your eye

and i needed for you,

You'd move the world

If I asked you to.

And i knew...

How bright each day became

and i wanted to,

Observe each moment,

and be with you,

To have and to hold

And i knew...

I did not love you

Reappearances

On a starry winters night,

the sickness was caught.

Feeding on the heart,

pleasure from sucking life.

And it did Climax,

Causing nausea,

worse,

causing hurt.

Too soon

It did leave,

leaving a void.

The sickness slowly forgotten.

On occasion red spots reappear,

the nausea returns.
Annoyed,

She will live with the sickness,

and its sporadic returns.

Learning Love Through Pain

In awe he starred,
small, frail, curious.
The flame danced and flickered,
he smiled and cooed.
The light grew, and so his heart.
He was warned,
but how the young naively dream,
and dance with flames.

Thus burnt, he cried
reaching for those who warned,
met with concern,
with love.
Allowed only through searing pain
He recognized a better light.

He did grow,
and embrace his scars,
to only him they did belong,
his tale and scars synonymously unique.

Shunyata in The Empty Room

And i cry

Sobbingly at a loss

Yelling at those people,

in the empty room.

waiting for a response,

The silence is deaffening.

Why?!

The inner world becomes a cyclone

The outter never so still,

and i to my knees.

i beg everyone,

in the empty room.

Disoriented, i claw, and moan,

and plead,

loosing everything on the floor.

Empty am i in this full room.

To see the future i wish i never had.

Growth from emptiness?

Undeniable.

Unquestionable & Questionable

Unclear to the eye,

the electric currents flow.

Unable to see,

Love, God are all shapes of faith.

Untouchable molecules,

we are composed and do touch,

Unfelt mysteries,

Which we feel and do know.

Why faith in the other,

the machine

but none for the miraculous,

the wonderful,

The real?

5 Then and Now

Onto the canvas
our painted faces,

our painted names,

our painted hearts?

Aging it will fold,

the paint will wrinkle

the name forgotten,

and what of the heart?

The painter once became,

and was

Once he would grow,

and age

to include the young

without jealousy,

He would relish the past,

not resent.

Restoring the paint,

to liven the death,

to uplift the old,

to fix that which is,

Broken?

Onto the Canvas,

our painted names,

our painted faces,

our painted hearts.

9 How Naive

Gently did the winds blow,
Caressing it's porcelain leaves.
Day turned to night,
Night to day,
How those winds did change.
Bringing a torrid desert-like heat,
to end with torrential rain.
Ever swiftly did the frozen hell come.
Porcelain leaves shattered,
Rose colored peddles gone.
Into a deep depression it fell
until the sun shone brighter than ever,
Illusions for a single day.
but how that flower rose again,
Naively forgotten were the memories of yesterday.

10 Two Collapsed.

Eye's sparkling she smiled rivers...
To the trickster who hid in stars,
Boldly
loved by her
effortlessly, moving with the tides
a love ne'er to be returned .
Commited with a passionate intimacy to him,
A jester to all serious things.
As smallest of warriors she fought

---Unwavered ---

He would not care, or sincerely smile

*** All collapsed***

Upon her smile came the crushing waves
when he became tired of being the trickster and left

.Stars collided with the tides.

she drowned carrying her love far away
from the place where her love would be renewed ,
the place where again he soon did play.

No more

***

12 From death...

From nothing it grew,
Green veins of life,
it lived.

Seasons changed.
Heat waves, winds blew. Cold.
and it fell.

Tumbled, dirty,
frail shrivelled life.
It died cold...alone.

But, There was warmth.
a womb only from death
nestled deeply.

Saved from wind and cold,
it flourished,
fluttered free.

From death: Life, metamorphosed

I will be moving comments about my poetry to the 'comments' section below each poem to allow readers to interpret the poetry themselves before reading my comments and thoughts. Sorry for the inconvenience : )

-Danielle

15 That feeling...

The door is locked

it starts,

You sit and wonder,

it grows,

Nagging,

what has been left?

Things you number.

Should you return

to look again?

Troubled

There is no dismissal.

Eating away at you.

Uncomfortable as travels prolong.

Restless,

you are far from that point.

As you draw near you forget.

You have arrived,

but it's too late.

You forgot your toothbrush.

You should have listened

to that bothered feeling,

turned before time so quickly went

and left him long ago.

***

16 On death

You can watch the petals slowly die

but what is it to be

blank sight, slow time, panic

knowing that you're near.

You can watch the petals wilt and fall

Perhaps there is no near,

a thought, a resignation, A Choice

bloom will you no more.

You can wonder of the winters cold

only once will you know.

the hope, the wish, the fear

should petals ne'er return

17 The Lion and the Ringmaster

Was it easy lashing the whip,

feeling the lion's fear?

Dancing at your every whim

Growing old and weary

as you watched and laughed.

What sick pleasures spew from your soul?

Let the lion run!

The lion as the subjective onlooker,

Knowing strength, unable to stand,

He cares. He Knows. He wishes.

The stopping point,

but disabled by that invisible thing,

he is loyal, and you,

you continue to play ring master.

18 My release

Irritated I sit,

Unable to keep still,

cannot focus.

The door barred shut.

I feel it's pure supple surface

untouched until this moment.

Arranging my thoughts strategically

My fingers begin moving

Longing for the release

I go more quickly, more steadily

thoughts lost,

a blurr of words and memories

I go harder until it comes.

The words speak for my explosive emotion.

The page is no longer pure,

words sprawled everywhich way.

My poetry is masturbation.

***

I very much enjoy this poem. I find it very stimulating, much the same way i feel when i am expressing myself in a poem. It is a form of relaxation, concentration. I am very focused on the release, once I have released my frusterations, emotions, etc, on to paper I feel much more at ease. I would also like to thank someone very close to me for allowing me to use his line as inspiration for this poem.(You know who you are!)

Stirring the dust

Sweeping in the corners
dust began to stir.
Up it rose,
motionless heart,
what was settled came alive.

Broom unallowed to pause.
Particles soaring,
eyes burning
throat choked, uneasy.
It's the dust of memories time.

How did all this accumulate
in unswept corners?
misplaced times
Regrets of the task
of sweeping unswept corners.

Let the remainder still.
Closeting the broom.
reluctance,
close the cover
Dust still left in unswept corners.

***

Have you ever gone through an old photo album or memory chest and found something belonging to a lost love, friend, or family member. Do you remember feeling choked but not being able to stop looking at it, not able to put away the memory? It's a spiralling feeling and you wonder how you were ever able to forget. You suddenly regret having looked through the album or memory chest, and you reluctantly close it. Isn't it odd how you never dispose of it though?

Untitled

Portrait of a name
name for the face
exhilerating girl
Gall of an untamed brush


***
There is a girl that I know, and despite trying to come up with more ways to describe her these were the only four lines which seemed fitting. The way she looks seems to describe everything about her personality to me but I havn't quite been able to capture it in words well enough to do the girl justice, yet.

And you

And you
It will
Slowly passing time
the stillness
unquiet internals
silent surroundings
for the hands it is finite
Passing that point
And you
It will



***
Sometimes we are faced with difficult times ahead, anticipating the hard times is a huge part of the battle. Like everything it will pass.
-It can't rain all the time
***
No further explanation will be given at this point. Please read carefully.

The Waiting Game

And It sat there
and It waited

And It sat there
Expressed a thought
and It waited

And It sat there
expressed a thought
It was uncomfortable
and It waited

The time went by
and so It waited
and It waited, unsure

And It stood there
expressed a thought
It was uncomfortable
over Its time
and It should not wait

***

This Poem was inspired by a friend of mine who recently broke up with his girl friend. I could identify with how he felt and how he was unsure of what he should do. This poem is describing the beginnings of the end of a relationship and the actions taken by the person on the giving end of the breakup. The problems are addressed but never solved and commonly in relationships they tend to snowball if one person is unwilling to compromise. I left the poem with a small piece of advice to those who are, or may find themselves, in this position.

Suitcase to Nowhere

Following the downtown streets
sunstrokes tumbled low
sat there was a suitcase
of colored words, alone

Silver streets and flashing things
busy times unravelled strings
Sat there was a suitcase
of colored words, alone

Alone beneath the tall tree's shade,
it's travels did seem slow,
a patched up box in endless time
Nowhere will it go.

Silver streets and flashing things
busy times unravelled strings
sat there was a suitcase,
experiencing all that time and life does bring.



***
There's actually a story behind this poem. I was walking down Duckworth Street in St.Johns on a beautiful sunny day (of which St.John's is in short supply). It was busy downtown, zooming cars, thundering motorcycles, and the general bustle of tourist season. In midst of all this I came across a suitcase. I looked around and there seemed to be no one who owned the suitcase. It was very odd to just see it sitting there, people briskly walking by, paying no attention, almost as if the suitcase and their surroundings didn't entirely exist. It was actually interestingly uplifting to see it there on the busy sidewalk, so much so that I decided to sit near it and watch everything that was going on around me. Something so simple as a misplaced suitcase changed my perspective for much of that day.