Tuesday, September 30, 2008


The Flood

The night is dark
so dark outside
my heart is bursting with song
I see the world
in my minds eye
the world is waiting.
So long, old life,
the world is waiting so long.

The wind is fierce
so fierce, it moans
my heart is burning with pain
I see the world
in my minds eye
the world is covered.
So long, old life,
the world is covered in rain.

The beach is smooth
so smooth it shines
my heart is peaceful and still
I see the world
in my minds eye
the world is empty.
So long, old life,
the world is waiting to fill.


Monday, September 8, 2008

Poems Galore!!!!

So like I said in my last post, this book of poetry I've been reading has been inspiring me to write poems. I had no idea how true that was until Friday night when I wrote four!!!! So in all, this week I've written eight poems. Yay!!!! This is seven of them, I already posted the Lady of the Lake one.
The first is very random and came out of nowhere.

When he went away
she stood there at the stairs
watching his graying hair
fade away
until the memory was gone,

The Quilt
The quilt swirled off her lap
and billowed onto the floor
the room was full of roses and ferns--
a peice of summer that never died
and guarded against the bitter cold.

If I could write poems
all the day long
with an occasional break
to sing a silly song

and a piano right there
to plunk out a tune
and a great big backyard
to look at the moon

With family nearby
and friends all around
and a place to escape
all the joyous sound

Why, I wouldn't need money
or sleep, or even bread
for I'd ben in heaven
and already dead!

My Love
Where is my love?
Where is he now?
Is he on land or sea or air?
Who is my love?
I know him not
know not if he is dark or fair.
I know only
that through my life
on edges, hovering, he's there
He's like a star
shining for me
and when we meet, I'll join him there.

I might as well write
another poem tonight
four will be a record
for one day -
but what to say?
My mind is full of poetry
flowing in and out like a stream
like a half-remembered dream
the words fall- they flow-
they don't know where to go
they tumble, they grumble
like and unseen bird
nothing's ever been hear-
it's too absurd-
maybe I shouldn't
finish this poem tonight.

But I'll never have
this moment again
my soul is drenched in words
overflowing with thoughts,
ideas, that only I can write
I don't know what to say
the day will soon be over
the sky is dark and my
eyes are heavy
and I wish this night
could last forever.

I can't sort anything out
I have no idea what this poems about.
Do you know?
Didn't think so.

What should I do about this poem? Halfway through it switches styles. O_O Anna said I should change it so it's all one style or the other-- but that would ruin it. And take ages. Does it work like this?

How Many More Nights
How many more
nights like this will there be?
With this book upon my knee?
I can read it again
and again and again
But then
I'll be so different then
Will it still make the words start
and not stop until my heart
is unburdened, free?
How many more nights
like this will there be?

A love burns in me
deep in my heart
a love for my friends,
my family, my art
A love for afternoon
light in the fall
a love for the sea
and the wind's lonely call.
A love for people
who suffer so long
and can still raise their voice
in life's joyous song
A love for music
that comforts the soul
A love for writing--
but, on the whole,
A love burns in me
that no one can name
So deep-- as I change,
the love stays the same
This love within me
is peace in a storm
a refuge - and slowly
the love takes a form...

A love burns in me
something more than mine
exuberant - free-
this love that will shine
I open my eyes
and see.

And then this last one, should I end it with form or see? I can't decide which I like better.

And there you have it!

Friday, September 5, 2008


So Mom was looking through some of Dad's books, and she found some ones of poetry. So I've been reading Classic Poems to Read Aloud, which I love. All the poems are so good! And I've found, when I read poetry it often inspires me to write some. This poem I wrote yesterday I wrote because the Lady of the Lake is a character in the story I'm writing.

The Lady of the Lake

Would you be a lady
with a lake to yourself?
A place to swim
and a place to sing
and a place to take the moon
and put the starlight into jewels

to adorn a sword
made out of ice
and the light of early morning

Would you be a lady
with a life to yourself?
You'll swim forever
oh and you'll sing
the days away

the hills will know the sorrow
of a life full of mystery
you're something more than a lady
made from lake-water-- moonlight--
you will change history

You have no choice.
You'll spend your life