I used to have time to write down the processes of my mind.
And convey them through weaving stories.
To make a feast of my innermost desires and fears to be consumed by every hungry reader.
Now I have less time
And even more thoughts.
So instead I package them like candy,
Coated with sugar to hide the sour inside.
And I call it poetry.
Pen and ink
Pen and ink
Tell me what I should think
What to say
What to feel
Save me from a mind that reels.
Pen and ink
Pen and ink
Deeper into my thoughts I sink
Pages turn
And my mind burns.
And onto the page I bleed.
Pen and ink
Pen and ink
I just want to escape to
A world of rest
Beyond his mess
That people call reality
Picture this:
Cowboys herding dragons on their own fire breathing steeds.
Cowboys hanging out in taverns playing cards and exchanging stories of their “dragon” drives or what its like raising unicorns in the country.
Enchanted pistols with magic bullets inscribed with runes.
Golden child, golden child,
As soon as you were born
Your parents cooed
What a treasure! So beautiful.
And as you got older and you were quick to read.
Shes so talented they said. Ahead of the curve.
But as your pace slowed to match the others,
You can hear the disappointed words of your mother.
When you raised the bar so high you yourself could not reach
You did not realize this was a permanent arrangement.
And so golden child, golden child, you began to fall.
For you tied your worthiness of being loved to your performance.
And so when you sometimes struggled to keep pace,
Tears born of failure, tarnished your golden face.
I love you
Coming from the wrong person
Those words feel like a weapon
And twenty swords drawn, aimed at your heart,
Just waiting for the precise moment to thrust.
You do not trust the person you love to love you back in a gentle way
A way that is good for your soul.
No, they are the type of person that will hit you, all while dripping good intentions like blood from a wound.
Punch you in the stomach while softly telling you that you are their world.
And the tragedy is, they often mean it. But cannot see beyond their own red hands.
The special pain of oblivious lovers.
Am I cursed to love the ignorant?
Perhaps so. For you are a poison that smells of Roses and I drink you in all the same.
The many victories of a healthy mind
Are In the small things I’ve come to find.
Nails no longer bitten to nubs
Flesh and blood and hangnail stubs.
I buy myself a coffee with little guilt.
And By midmorning, I no longer wilt.
Hunger is something I actually feel.
Food can be enjoyed, senses real.
I can sleep and wake with the sun.
And I feel full when the day is done.
Even if I haven’t exactly changed the world.
I was not lost in a sickening whirl.
I saw my coffee thick with cream.
Walked barefoot in a little stream.
I saw the rain fall in a mist.
Along the pane the water kissed.
These things weren’t lost on me- I saw them all.
I couldnt before- I was too busy with my fall.
These are the victories of a healthy mind.
All the little things that you can find.
I wrote a reversible poem! Read it Forwards and then Backwards!
I’ll love you forever
So I gave you flowers
The church bells rang
Till death do us part.
To Never to be severed from.
My darling it’s you I never want
To lose
To love is
To feel my heart beat stop in my chest.
I hear those fateful words
My head spins.
I’ll never forget
This
What did I ever do to deserve
You
It begins and ends with
Flowers
You’ve worked at a circus all your life. You’ve seen acts come and go and generally have enjoyed your job and have stayed on good terms with everyone. It’s a living. But your life takes a turn when a new act is hired: a fortune teller. Which would be fine if she didn’t foretell the death of multiple circus troupe members three separate times. Something is going on here, and you are determined to find out what- not only to save your job, but the lives of the other members of the troupe.
Field girl, field girl,
You belong to grass of the field
A gentle power you’ll wield
That many will seek to destroy
You have gold in your hair
Eyes of honey so fair
Dont let them take your heart.
Sea girl, sea girl,
Many will try to tread your depth
And come up short of breath
It is not your fault they never learnt to swim.
You have salt in your blood
For You are the flood
That bathes the world in blue.
Storm girl, storm girl.
Your voice is thunder
You’ll leave them to wonder,
Where your power lies.
There is force in your will,
Rain water does fill,
Your throat and spills through your eyes.
Hey! It’s another “Routine” post! This routine is for when I get home early from work and want to get some writing done! Some times its hard for me to maintain focus in the evening because the temptation to distract myself by scrolling through my phone is a lot stronger at night buuuut this routine tends to help me stay on track. So here it is!
7:00pm – Drink water
Again, hydration helps clear your head.
7:30pm – Wash your face
Sometimes makeup makes my eyes feel “tired-er” so I like to wash my face and remove my makeup before getting started.
8:00pm – Get comfy and in your pajamas
Matching pajama sets are my Achille’s heel so I super enjoy this step.
8:15 pm – Unplug
Get rid of those distractions! Turn your phone off or put it in a different room!
8:30pm – Set up your space
Turn on as many lights as you think you need, get out any writing supplies as you think you need for note making. Basically just prepare your space in a way that will aid your focus!
8:35-9:30 or 10pm – Write for a half hour at least
10:00pm – Take a break for a light midnight snack
Or 10 ‘o clock snack. Just something light because you don’t want to have any trouble sleeping. I recommend fruit or a snack bar. I also recommend getting a warm drink during this break. It adds to the cozy.
10:00-10:30 or 11pm – Write some more
You’ve got this!
11:00pm – Call it a night!
Hopefully at this point you have around 1,000 words, but even if you don’t you’ve worked for a long while. Reward yourself and sleep well!
By the Brooke 