Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Heavy hurricane.

Poem for today :)
It's free verse, and
It's kind of really long,
So I don't mind if you don't finish it,
It's probably no good anyways.
It's only Summer,
yet I'm so cold,
I'm only fifteen,
yet feel so old.
Grandeur, galore, and beautiful wonder.
Trickled into heads from rolling thunder.
They all speak of the eerie calm,
That settles in before the storm.
But what of all that follows after?
The aftermath of lightning chapters.
Is there chaos?
Burning bright.
Or stillness creeping,
in the night.
The thoughts escape me as I write.
My fingers wither as I type,
These words they drizzle,
Pour, and pound.
Mirroring rain,
its glorious sound.
As it taps against my window panes,
It reminds me why I'm up again.
Thinking of you at two am.
It's hard to sleep when my mind's a mess,
And my head is clothed in its Sunday's best.
It runs to church to pray for rest,
But will my screams even be addressed?
For so long they have gone and fallen flat.
Just like I did for you,
imagine that?
Here I lay,
staring up and on my back.
So many hours to think of you,
and wish for that.
That moment when the light bulbs dings,
Or the second your "Eureka!" 's sing,
That you have found the ship to take.
And to smile and joy shall we both sail.
Alas a dreamer always dreams to big,
We break so quick,
a simple twig.
I crunched and cracked beneath your foot.
Nights of sleep wasn't all you took.
I was robbed of sense of common thought.
For at the time you were,
all that I sought.
And still now,
I dare to seek.
All that might,
glitter and gleam.
To say you sparkle,
It's a sham.
To say you blind,
Makes much more sense.
I bet you chew diamonds with that smile,
And burn out Suns,
as you beguile,
All that wander upon your eyes.
A voice that breathes,
sweet lullabies.
In seconds one could melt like ice,
But glamorous words do not suffice.
To paint you would be mortal sin,
You can't be captured paper thin.
3-D, reality,
Oh the idea's insanity.
And there they go,
Thoughts spinning fast.
But with a little more control.
Yet I know it won't last.
I'm two steps too low,
And thirty over my head.
Sadly there's no cable car,
To whisk me from my bed.
Could I fall in the canyon?
Would you follow suit?
I'd hope you stay on the tree,
My forbidden little fruit.
A little East of Eden,
Paradise too far.
I almost had hands on the Moon,
But pricked my fingers on the stars.
Curse all these metaphors,
And down with the similes.
What good are they for?
These words are only mocking me.
As they sit atop the tree,
On branches where you softly sleep.
My golden apple,
I do need.
To escape my own calamity.
But for all that I believe,
Is what has kept you far from me.
Now as the rain it howled and lightning lit,
It brought me back to where I sit.
With hopes so dull and faith so dreary,
My eyes and arms that were so weary.
Pained themselves to stay in motion,
So that I may give you my notion:
What if I didn't hold you down?
And tear you away?
What if you could hold your hopes?
And never stray?
Then maybe we could make this work?
Then maybe I could close this hurt.
That wound that bled,
that never healed.
The void that opened,
and never sealed.
I mean just look at how its left me now,
I've spit these words for about an hour.
I ask, just end this storm,
Be my calm after rain.
Because right now,
You're my hurricane.

Opinions are appreciated (:


  1. eepers. i like this a lot.

    "I almost had hands on the Moon,
    But pricked my fingers on the stars."

    ^that's my favorite line. (:

  2. Gaw, thankkz ^.^

    Yaaa I like that line too (:

  3. (: gah, you guys are so sweet.