NaPoWriMo Day #30 (The End is Here!!)


It’s the final day of NaPoWriMo! Thank you for all who followed it; I really appreciate the support, for writing one poem a day is actually rather difficult. I didn’t write one every day, sadly, but I still accomplished my goal of participating! I don’t know if this blog will be active until next April, but perhaps it might every now and then. Happy Thursday! [Keep poeting <3]

Colors start to blend in a paper blank sky
I see the blotches extend like a ship’s sail,
A faded ring around a creation of my own.

Blue for the empty days where my words
were lost to school and family and friends.
My pen was left at home, the ink held tightly
waiting for an indentation to be made.
The absence created a red x, so bold and reminding
that goals cannot always be kept, but renewed.

Red for the blaring days where the first hour of my awaking
was spent on constructing something so different and new
letter upon letter carefully placed.

Purple for the time a haiku was thrown in
for though they can hold meaning they are easier
a filler of nature that opened my eyes, but only half way.

Green for the wooded stanzas that grew upright;
with each pounding of ideas a new branch was formed
and leaf after leaf sprouted from those lines
with a strong period placed at the end.

And finally-
Yellow, for the rhymes that kept like a bouncing ball
a Dr. Seuss drama, with my heart stitched to the computer screen.
My eyes were wide open with wonder; for five minutes worth of
letters were just sewn together with a needle I did not recognize as mine.

I stand looking at the canvas, now completely covered in a mix,
and I daresay my smile has never been wider, never been more
A book locked up in a drawer was pulled out, and apart of myself
was written, a brush dragged upon pages blanker than my mind
[only when it comes to writing an Elizabethan sonnet]


NaPoWriMo Day #29 (for a friend)

Eh it’s a little sloppy and naturally I didn’t revise it, but for all those turning “an adult” this year 😉

On your birthday~
[though this is a day late]
Eighteen balloons dance in the halls, though they are empty halls at that
Each color a pop of lime green, a reflection of the young innocent still stretching
May your hair always be “cool” like the chilly temperature that mixes with the non-stop rain, and may the raindrops not mirror the tears,
but a race to the finish, down the windowpane that blocks two souls from meeting.
May your red striped shirt symbolize the age with which you should always stay;the child that I shake my head at.
For we both know who is more mature, after all…
And may my guitar whisper the melody that is our own, chiming in with your bold piano notes.
Happy birthday.

NaPoWriMo Day#27 (May I Never Take You For Granted)

“My guitar is not a thing. It is an extension of myself. It is who I am.” ~Joan Jett

Indentations form in my fingers, as I go over and over the simple picking strategy
For him, I do not waste a minute learning something he really loves
And when he tells me it makes him happy that I want to do this,
I cannot lie when describing a flutter that pulses in my heart.

He tells me I’m talented, and a smile tugs at my lips
My hair shrouds my face as I carefully time my notes
Each a letter silently spelling “You’re worth it”
When his eyes hold mine

Without you, my dear, there would be no words
Silence would awkwardly hang in the air
But with your clear voice [if i play you right]
you sing a sweet melody that explains it all

Without these notes, my words would be placed in wet cement
Unprofessionally constructed, falling by the wayside
But you, love, straighten them out
And I am once again able to show there is a side of me that matters

[Dedicated to Oliver and Amber, my guitars :3] napo2015button1

NaPoWriMo Day #24 (Boring Poem Alert)

I should be writing an essay for World History right now. But I am, after all, the Procrastination Queen. 😉
Edit: Whoops, wrong day! I meant to put 24, not 23 xD Silly me 

A sigh escapes my lips as I stare at the blank document
Drumming my fingers I avoid a face plant before my fingers reach the keys
The cursor is mocking me, its blinking reminder that I must continue
This boring

Information runs around in my mind, each important fact struggling to fall into line;
key phrases flash before my eyes, but the words seem to fall flat off the screen.
How can I complete this boring

Although excuse me, for a moment, for providing false information
For the essay itself is not boring at all; it is the topic that penetrates
The joy I try to conjure while typing one fluff line after the other
To make it seem I know a lot about what I’m talking about [when I really don’t]
So thus the hours tick by for this boring

And my brain is so bombarded with silly details that this poem
Probably doesn’t make sense
So you can see my dilemma, as I procrastinate and write
This boring

NaPoWriMo Day #23 [Purity in times of Chic Darkness]

You may detect a Chronicles of Narnia reference just because I’m rereading the series 😉 Hopefully the poem isn’t too bizarre that your interpretation of it is far from my intentions. What do you think it means? 

Breathing in the smoke
that does not fill my lungs,
but fills my hammering heart
allows me to cough up the mucus
of naïveté.
Perhaps I should have listened
for my hearing was perfectly crystal
and my comprehensive skills were at their peak,
but my judgement unhinged itself from my doorway
and slowly crept down the sloppy stairs I built.
Rain falls like fake diamonds, each drop a pointy jab,
and I must shield my eyes from admiring them
for I am not supposed to.
It is a sin to admire cheap and manmade beauty,
for it is not beauty at all.
God gently rested his hand on the lion that breathed
in the fresh and sleepy air that arose from the trees
and its eyes rested on the real beauty fashioned
by gentle hands that once held me.
I let a tear slowly crawl down my face.
The loud noise that crashed through the sleepy air
blows up like confetti, to where you cannot see a thing
but the distorted colors before you.
Do not let those images lure you in.
Fight them.
Crystallize a pure heart, my dear.napo2015button1

NaPoWriMo Day#22 (Spewing Out Words)

NaPoWriMo Day #22

Little phrases seep their way into my mind
and i count my blessings before i doze off
you always know how to make me pull up the corners
of a quivering lip, a bulging lower that trembles like an earthquake
your fingers gently flick away each tear; though they flickered us, didn’t they?
as i only see you in scraps
i try to tape you together but the minuscule minutes tend to ache my hands
to imagine is to imagine; nothing more and nothing less
and i roll the scenes of the movie that never was and never will be
of you grabbing me from behind and pulling me out of the slump
I have fallen in.
because i fall a lot.
of you kissing my hair [that’s turning strawberry brown]
and whispering
‘it’s not over yet’
But it was.
to feel a sensation that doesn’t actually exist frightens me
because i’m lying to myself and believing that it’s true
which has to equate to insanity somehow.
i only have your words, dear, but they’re starting to fizz
i grab them with a shaking relentlessness because they are
and always will be
yours. {and that’s more than enough for me}
your innocence gave me a budding realization
that not everyone has to know everything.
for why would one want to in such a world?
where The Learning Channel is actually teaching you
but not of accounts they are aware of.
because reality does not define itself behind a screen,
nearing the end of a journey you didn’t predict
offers a weight i fail to carry
and i stumble.
i stumble a lot.
my feet like to step on the cracks, naturally.
And though this feeling we are scared to identify
is not written in black ink;
i can see it.

i see it in streaming colors.napo2015button1

NaPoWriMo Day #21

NaPoWriMo Day #21

Week Four

I’m back! I’m poeting again, and I am so sorry for the week-long absence. I’m not going to do anymore weekly topics; apparently it’s just too much for some unknown reason. So this week and next week will just be whatever comes to my mind (and possibly a prompt or two that I see along the way).

Leaning in to whisper words that soften like fuzz
I tremble and quiver and rest my head against your own.
You tell me I’m beautiful, a lie selectively chosen.
Because the face in the mirror has slashes of red against its cheeks,
And I don’t want to believe in a false hope that unravels at my touch.

But while my letters sloppily string themselves together,
Mismatching vowels and consonants, screeching to a halt
With the discovery I’m revealing too much;
You only nod and continue to stare your blue ovals into mine.
And my breath is somehow snatched by a newfound reality.

One that pours into my mind like silk chocolate,
Because only secret smiles are made of the finest fabric;
Drizzling in as a gradual realization [for a never-before-known
feeling doesn’t exactly snap into place, now does it?]
My fingers fumble for the light switch that was never there.

My palms are ice blocks around the clock, and you take
them and warm them, and I shyly return mine to my lap.
Even when silence hangs in the air, I find myself stopping
From reaching and rattling it awake.
For perhaps silence is the greatest understanding I have yet to face.napo2015button1

NaPoWriMo Day #12 and 13

NaPoWriMo Day #12 and 13

Week Three: Places

Yikes! I keep falling behind, shame on me. Anyway, it’s the start of a new week, and that means a new topic for NaPo! I’ve decided to write about places this week, because they are chests that unlock momentums we treasure. Ever been to an area vaguely familiar, and suddenly a memory or an emotion is triggered? Monday’s prompt: Write about a place very special to your mother or father.  Style: Free verse

Day 12~
(a crummy haiku summing up what I just said about places)
Places are like chests
Unlocking momentums that
Trigger pain or joy

Day 13~

The house, she told me, was one in a Spanish rat’s mouth
[and she likes to complain that people pronounce it wrong]
where she scraped her knees from falling off a bike,
sat in the back of a seatbelt-less car she sang “Country Road” in—
But it wasn’t so country where she lived.

Spreading out her arms like a broken bird’s,
She exclaims nothing was once here, but a neighborhood
a small shopping center
perhaps just a strip of faces in nature’s playground.
God painted an innocent blue across the merciless heat

So you had to love it anyway.

It’s where she experienced every emotion bundled into
a present sloppily wrapped, but she didn’t mind
ripping off the transparent paper
just to see if what she was getting was it.
But soon she would learn she was so very special.

Now that playground collapsed decades ago.
Replaced by greed and the flocking of birds,
that have quite annoying accents.
And it was then she knew
That she thrived just barely in a species known as “natives”
a society of sorts that dwindled and teetered.

And that innocent blue has been marketed too high
Ripped off
Scratched out by concrete;
and roughly plastered back on, taped sloppily
and reapplied…
But only God can create the beauty she once knew. napo2015button1

NaPoWriMo Day #11~People and Relationships

NaPoWriMo Day #11

Week Two: People and Relationships

Hey guys, I never posted this yesterday. I was pretty busy, but I’m here to give you a poem! I decided to write a silly one based on my own experiences 🙂 Style: Rhyme

When you look to his eyes and you must look away
You’re in that dilemma where conversation is frayed.
What shall you say next, should you just clear your throat?
He doesn’t say much, he just mumbles his notes.

You then bite your lip and scroll through your list
Of mental backups when you’re stuck in this ditch.
Tapping your fingers to a way offbeat drum,
You have to continue what you shy away from.

Perhaps you’re talking too much? Will it drive him nuts?
It’s not your fault that neither has guts.
Awkward silence ensues, as it usually does.
You’re getting sick of this monotonous buzz!

But you like him too much to give up just yet,
So you must prolong what you normally dread.
Something you said just made him laugh!
You’re getting somewhere; you’re not half bad.

This Dr. Seuss rhyme beats through your head,
And as you stay focused, you begin to shed
This cloak you’ve been wearing that’s kept you away
From this feeling called thrill and flying and brave.