The Harmony of Apathy

September 13, 2010 at 4:26 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , )

There is a misplacement in me

Sadness in a note

Love in a tone

Pain that no one else seems to feel

But where is the empathy?

Where is the sympathy?

Apathy.

I feel-

Little

I feel-

Silence

Or rather I feel-

Where Silence is meant to be

When words would have been

Better left unspoken

When you bare your soul

For the world to hear

Should you really be surprised

When they steal it?

Or melt it?

Or freeze it?

I feel the pain, the loss, the love

There – just now

In a note

A melody.

The Harmony

of Apathy.

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Coffee

September 12, 2010 at 2:17 am (Poetry) (, , , , , , )

Coffee.

That’s what it feels like

Bitter, biting, and wonderful

There is comfort and familiarity

That does not lessen the burn

Warmth and Pain-

Of the most superficial variety

But there are deep currents

Deep and as yet unidentified-

Who knows what flavor will arise?

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Match Girl

August 1, 2010 at 8:50 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , )

Little girl

Playing with fire

Spreading it all around her

All she knows

Is that it keeps her safe

And warm

But when it is gone

She shivers in the cold

Dreaming of the fire

Wishing it would return

Wishing it would spread

Little match girl

Lost in the cold.

***The only thing I wanted from my grandmother when she passed away was a doll.  The little match girl sat in her living room for years, and now she is in my bedroom as a reminder.  I named her Etterene…after my grandmother.

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No One was Saved

June 23, 2010 at 11:23 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

I am Eleanor Rigby.

I come out of this world

A lonely person

Searching for love

Dreaming about that day.

I am a river.

Soft and sweet.

My embrace like cold needles

Carrying my dream away

Back to the lonely banks.

I am a smile.

I play on the lips

Of liars, saints, and lovers.

I come and I go

A sign that they are just barely getting by.

I am a secret.

Shared between friends,

Holding people together

Tearing others apart

Because no one keeps me to themselves.

I am Eleanor Rigby.

I keep faces in jars

Because my own face is the mask.

The river, the smile, the secret

are truth.

***I love allusions and I felt a sudden connection to Miss Rigby, so this is my tribute to her (as well as the four men who brought her into existence).  I look forward to the day when I don’t feel like I’m turning into Eleanor and Father McKenzie any more.

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Bones

May 3, 2010 at 12:02 am (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Mistaken-

She tells me to put

my heart in a box.

She thinks the sight

pains me

but it doesn’t.

It confuses me.

I don’t understand

why these bleak and barren bones

make other people sad-

why it causes them pain.

***I wrote this after watching an episode of Bones where the lovely forensic anthropologist, Dr. Brennan, tells Zack he has to put his heart in a box when looking at the remains of a murdered child. I think the poem speaks for itself.

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Empty Spaces

January 28, 2010 at 2:02 am (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , )

Little girl

in a downpour

sad eyes

smile on her lips

Big blue eyes

staring at the raindrops

one step forward

outstretched hands

She steps farther from home

feeling her emotions like the rain

raised hands

tears mixed with rain

Her hands above her head

she melts into the storm

empty

spaces

The little girl is gone

just blue eyes and a smile.

***My mind is in the past these days. Who is the little girl? Is it me? What happened…

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Internal Battles

January 16, 2010 at 12:47 am (Poetry) (, , , , , )

A war wages within every person, a battle of wits, strength, and will.

Turmoil fights to raze your heart, while serenity defends it eternally.

The internal balance of emotions all depends upon choices and mistakes.

Even though they fight each other, neither can survive without the other nor can one side win.

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