I am Sad

echoed silence
questions me
as I try to smile
try to wish
bitter sweetly
the cause is lost
tears can drip
can stain
deeply sad
my heart should be
could be dead
lost tonight
I crumbled
tears dripped and dripped
and dripped.

I Care

They say I care
They say I care
but do they say
who cares for me?

Mixed Signals

Crossing wires
leads to fires
or lights
that won't
turn on.

Rolling in Brambles

Hug a thorn bush
kiss a porcupine
men are useless
men are unkind

Protesting

Wastrels and beggars

We strive

Torches doused

Forks dulled

Voices rasping

Among the tides

Gulping for air

Full of pollution

We set upon

Our own revolution

This was inspired by the protests going on in The U.S.A. atm. I don't really see the point in the people protesting... Nothing will change.

~T

Epic Storm

The tides in my soul

Roll with the rain

Splish, splash

I feel insane.

The shift in my soul

Shakes my roots

Crumble, crash

Chaos mute.

The storm in my soul

Flashes and hails

Boom, boom

Epic fail.

Attention

She spoke softly, words small.
Ears craned, eager to hear all.
He spoke loudly, words bold.
Eyes drooped, attention,
he could not hold.


Wrote this for a paper I am writing for my English class. =)
~T

Blind

In this world of darkness
I see
People who are nice
and people who are mean
In this world of darkness
I see
People who are blind
and people who see
In this world of darkness
I see
who I've become
and who I want to be
In this world of darkness
I am blind
to people who
aren't kind
In this world of darkness
I am blind
to those who are hurtful
and make people unwind
In this world of darkness
I am blind
to the evil that separates
and longs to destroy mankind
In this world of darkness
I see that I'm blind.


Sorry it's been so long. I have been busy writing fiction. Not quite sure what inspired this. It just came out, so I wrote it down. Hope you like it. ~T

Who is that girl?

Who is that girl I see?
Chubby cheeks
and talks funny?
That's not me.
In the mirror I see her
but I don't know her.
Who is that girl I hear?
Stuttering, lisp
Recklessly blabbing her fears?
That's not me.
In the mirror I see her
but I don't know her.
Who is that girl?

This is about how shocking it can be to see photos or videos of yourself and the way you look and sound doesn't sound or look at all like how you see or hear yourself. Sometimes it's so radically different, you're like, what lens am I looking/hearing through? Anyone else feel that way sometimes too?
~T

p.s. sorry for it being so long since my last post. Just haven't been inspired and been busy writing fiction instead.

My Best Friend

Create that color book picture
color in it all
rip one out for me
and paste it on the wall
Big and Bold
write my name
for all to see
It remains the same
when you forget me
when you get bored
you paint me over
and my tears I will ford
The picture of yours
I ripped it out
and pasted it on my wall
at it now, I shout
No paint for me
I still see you
even when you cut me deep
I know what's true
You are my Best friend
Though you don't seem to remember
I am that til the end
maybe you just lost my number
Though yours I know by heart
Just know that I miss you
No matter where you are
I'll survive this amnesia with tissues
Do not fear
You are my Best friend
and I'll never forget
I'll remember til the end.

This is dedicated to the person I have considered as one of my Best friends since we were in elementary school together. She moved away years ago and we have kept in touch over the years with her visiting and phone calls but lately I haven't heard from her at all even when I try to contact her with messages on facebook and texts... Hurts to feel like your friend has forgotten you or doesn't care to talk to you. =*( ~T

Little Miss

A diamond glittered
in the corner of her sleep
Ready to fall and shatter
scattering far, wide and deep
under her fine coat of grass
she shivered, the cold seeping through
Like webbed glass
but none shall break her slumber
for valiantly she had fought
she deserves this plunder
Dream and Zs, so purty
Enjoy it, for it will end
at 2:30.


LOL, so I wrote this at work today during nap time. It was a very frustrating day as 4/5 toddlers would not lay down and be quiet. *exhausted*

Idiot

Hope you enjoy the photo I took of the ↑↑ original writing of this poem. Decided to share it since I did a little sketch on it too.
Hey, I don't really know what triggered this poem to come out of me today, but here it is.

Whittle away at me
chip, scrape,
claw at me
Tear away at skin
rip, shred
Do it again
Crumpled, mashed, inside
reveal, expose
I have nothing to hide
Hold on tight to me
Cling, hug
I'll move fast to leave
Balance, Careful on edge
you created
what lies between, this wedge
See the cracks smolder
around, echoed
As if you were a fire boulder
Take in the damage you left
destruction, chaos
See the horror you've kept
Tears may stream from me
my pain
But they are also from pity
Your head held high, I pity it
YOUR rubble
because you're an idiot.

Let me know whatcha think of it. =) thanks. <3 T

Be Nice

Fresh off the press... or erm, paper ;) hehe. I just wrote this poem. It was inspired by my realization that lately it has felt like I have to really force myself and remember to be nice to people. I have always considered myself to be a nice person but lately I have started to question whether I'm still being a nice person. Some things have happened that make me distrust people around me and I think that may be why I am having a hard time with being nice. (Not that I'm mean, I just haven't been able to "naturally" be nice to people like I used to be) Maybe I'm tired of feeling like people are walking all over me or taking advantage of me being nice all the time...anyways, enjoy the poem. Let me know what ya think. ~T

Sputtering, spittle
through clenched teeth
pretending to be nice
can wear on a sword's sheath
Glisten, shine
show those pearly whites
pretending to be nice
saves you from many fights
BUT, BUT, BUT...
Stuttering, stuck
with a phased mind,
When did I start having to pretend
at being kind?

Noise Day by Shel Silverstein

In honor of Memorial Day weekend and summer, I have decided to share this poem. Memorial Day is to honor those lost. I thank all Military people for their services and I remember those whom I love who have passed away. Yet, Memorial Day, all over the nation represents something else; the beginning of summer. The pools are now open and the majority of kids are out of school. SO, I find this poem very appropriate. :) enjoy. ~T

Let's have one day for girls and boyses
When you can make the grandest noises.
Screech, scream, holler, and yell--
Buzz a buzzer, clang a bell,
Sneeze--hiccup--whistle--shout,
Laugh until you lungs wear out,
Toot a whistle, kick a can,
Bang a spoon against a pan,
Sing, yodel, bellow, hum,
Blow a horn, beat a drum,
Rattle a window, slam a door,
Scrape a rake across the floor,
Use a drill, drive a nail,
Turn the hose on the garbage pail,
Shout Yahoo--Hurrah--Hooray,
Turn up the music all the way,
Try and bounce your bowling ball,
Ride a skateboard up the wall,
Chomp you food with a smack and a slurp,
Chew--chomp--hiccup--burp.
One day a year do all these,
The rest of the days--be quiet please.


R.I.P. baby nephew Mason('99-'00), Uncle Bill ('56-'07)and Great Uncle Charlie('30-'11). I love you.

I'd like to make a special thanks to Shel Silverstein also, for teaching me it's ok to mis-spell words and create words of your own as long as you do it on purpose, with purpose. :)
R.I.P. Shel Silverstein ('30-'99)

Frozen

This isn't a new poem. I just never posted it. I felt like it's just a repeat in different words of other poems I have written. I also didn't like the end of it. But when I re-read it tonight, I found what needed to be added to the end to make me like the flow. But I still feel like it's a repeat. Sharing it none the less. enjoy ~T


Shut it down
put up the walls
because what's inside
I don't like at all
Shield my face
with tears of ice
freeze them out
try to be nice
too warm, too soft, too plush
inside
to deserve anything
besides
Broken, shattered
trying to tape it back together
holding on
against this cold weather
Where I end is not where I begin
but open minds
are longed for again
open hearts lost
in the madness of this winter storm
I just want to be held
comforted, to be warm
to be loved, to be cherished
forever more.

Nothing

Don't you hate it when you ask your mother or someone else you love what they want for a gift and they say, "nothing."? I believe people say that either because they feel guilty for "wanting" anything specifically or they want you to figure out what they want on your own. My mother told my sisters and I this year that she wanted "nothing" for Mother's Day. So I thought of this clever poem to satisfy her wants. :) enjoy. ~T

Here is nothing
the nothing you ask for
the nothing you receive
Here is nothing
the nothing you don't deserve
the nothing you don't leave
Here is nothing
Though you always deserve more
Though this nothing, you misconceive
Here is nothing
Though you give me more than I deserve
Though you give me a great love weave
Here is nothing
because a mother's love deserves more
because a mother like you, I wish not to aggrieve
Here is nothing
because you are a mother, I assume, deserved
because you are a mother, I could never preconceive
Here is nothing
and when you tire of the nothing you ask for
and when the nothings fade, be relieved

I got you flowers too.

Blood

Drip, drip, drip.
Feel it pulse
head to toe.
Feel it stop.
Let it flow.
Drip, drip, drip.
Hear it rush
through your ears.
Hear it burst.
Let it roar.
Drip, drip, drip.


For some reason my blood was just pounding through me last night as I lay to bed and the feeling of it inspired me to write this poem. ~T

Love poem XXXVII of Emily Dickinson's

Gonna give ya one of Emily's AND one of mine today. Emily first though. :) enjoy. ~T

Love is anterior to life
Posterior to death
Initial to creation, and
the exponent of breath.

The Nap Taker by Shel Silverstein

No--I did not take a nap--
The nap--took--me
Off the bed and out the window
Far beyond the sea,
To a land where sleepy heads
Read only comic books
And lock their naps in iron safes
So that they can't get took

And soon as I came to that land,
I also came to grief.
The people pointed at me, shouting,
"Where's the nap, you thief?"
They took me to the courthouse.
The judge put on his cap.
He said, "My child, you are on trial
For taking someone's nap.

"Yes, all you selfish children,
You think just of yourselves
And don't care if the nap you take
Belongs to someone else.
It happens that the nap you took
Without a thought or care
Belongs to Bonnie Bowlingbrook,
Who's sittin' cryin' there.

"She hasn't slept in quite some time--
Just see her eyelids flap.
She's tired and drowsy--cranky too,
'Cause guess who took her nap?"
The jury cried, "You're guilty, yes,
You're guilty as can be,
But just return the nap you took
And we might set you free."

"I did not take that nap," I cried,
"I give my solemn vow,
And if I took it by mistake
I do not have it now."
"Oh fiddle-fudge," cried out the judge,
"Your record looks quite sour.
Last night I see you stole a kiss,
Last week you took a shower,

"You beat your eggs, you've whipped your cream,
At work you punched the clock,
You've even killed an hour or two,
We've heard you darn your socks,
We know you shot a basketball,
You've stolen second base,
And we can see you're guilty
From the sleep that's on your face.

"Go lie down on your blanket now
And cry your guilty tears.
I sentence you to one long nap
For ninety million years.
And when the other children see
This nap that never ends,
No child will ever dare to take
Somebody's nap again."



This is one of my favorite Shel Silverstein poems from his book, Falling Up. I love the clever use of words. It also reminds me of a movie I saw as a child called, Puff the Magic Dragon. It was about telling lies. I don't remember for sure if that changed the title of it. lol. Anyways... :) ~T

Love poem of Emily Dickinson

It's all I have to bring to-day,
This, and my heart beside,
This, and my heart, and all the fields,
And all the meadows wide.
Be sure you count, should I forget,--
Some one the sun could tell,--
This, and my heart, and all the bees
Which in the clover dwell.


I love reading Emily Dickinson poetry. She uses similar rhythm to her poetry as I do in mine and it flows so easily from my tongue. ~T

I'm Writing to Tell You by Jewel Kilcher

I'm writing
this letter to tell you

I don't love you anymore.

I don't miss you.

I never have.

The truth is, I
tried, but never found
your adoration
anything other than arduous

your niceties cliched,

your praise thoughtless,

and it has become
unbearably obvious
that you love me with
all the originality
of romance novels;

the manly man weakening
the luscious flower.



One of my absolute favorites. As a single lady, I have met quite a few men who this poem reminds me of.
~T

I Don't Suppose Raindrops by Jewel Kilcher

I don't suppose raindrops
will ever replace
the sound of small feet

nor sunflowers
their tiny crowns

All the dust has gathered itself
and settled on
your heart
and there is no correct combination

no key

no question

that will deliver them
once more
to your side

for she has already decided:
no answers will
be given



I love Jewel's poetry. Her music has always been some of my favorites even from when I was young. I'm sure her music helped inspire my own poetry.
~T

Not a poem- Essay on Fantasy Fiction

I was wanting to write an essay on something, just for fun. Don't hear that very often, do you? lol. Anyways, I picked the topic of Fantasy fiction. I asked myself- How do you define Fantasy fiction? This is what I wrote. Enjoy and leave me comments about the essay in general or how you define Fantasy fiction or maybe any other genre of literature that you enjoy. :) ~T

Fantasy takes the mind somewhere it may have never imagined. Yet, someone else imagined it. Authors of fantasy fiction build exciting, parallel worlds, magical beings and an over all sense of awe.

What if today's world didn't have cars, but instead everyone traveled by giant bubbles? Authors build their fantasy worlds on stacked questions of; "What if?" The essential question for all fiction writers plays a crucial part in delving into a writer's imagination. What if the sky was brown and the dirt was blue? Readers of fantasy fiction cannot question, "why?" Fantasy makes the question irrelevant. Yet, a great fantasy writer will be able to paint a world of magic and delights so believable, instead readers will ask, "why not?"

Once the world is built, why not add creatures of wonder? Magical creatures of fantasy are almost a must. The selection and creation of fantasy characters and creatures is usually inspired by the combination of; what the author knows, reality, and ideas formed from myths or folklore, or formed from pure creativity. These characters and creatures give the author's created world a purpose.

With purpose, comes life and adventure. Fantasy worlds are created, filled, brought to life and then presented to the reader. Readers of fantasy can devour the platter of an amazing world, wondrous creatures and a great tale of adventure. The author transforms these magical, fantasy elements into a tasty smoothie. Readers learn to love the characters. The readers are amazed by the fantasy world. Then the readers just burst into ecstastical bliss, all from a well written fantasy.

These fantasy authors are great at building exciting worlds, filling them with magical beings and leaving readers satisfied and in awe. That is what defines a good fantasy novel. Fantasy, as we never imagined, built upon questions.

We Create in Different Ways

Again, going to talk before the poem. :) This poem was inspired moments ago by my realization that I love it when people comment and like about my art work and scenery photos I post on facebook. Where I post art, my friends and family post pictures of their children. I'm sure they feel proud and happy when people "like" and comment on the pictures of their children too. ~T

Smile, birth
Smile, create
photo, awww!
photo, neat!
1 step, 2 step, Cheer!
1 line, 2 line, review.
giggle, giggle, Hug!
snap, snap, upload.
scribble, scribble, fridge.
Doodle, doodle, display.
your children, your creation.
my children, my creation.

Death's Checklist

I did this poem for an assignment. We had to write a poem that was a list. I remember that I struggled with the concept, thinking that I couldn't express anything worth reading with a list. I proved myself wrong though. Tell me if you agree. ~T


scream
cry
hyperventilate
panic
silence
Will I survive?
wide eyes
tears
breathing
heart beats
nothing
Will I survive?

The Students' Snow Storm

The various movements of students
Each motion unique
The tapping of a foot
The clicking of a tongue
The biting on a pen
The putting on of some gloves
The rhythm of silent sounds
sweetly singing of sleepiness
eyes dart around
some are lazy, others are intriguing
The symphony sounds out in anxiety
Waiting for the silent white
To release them from their cage.

LOL. I loved this poem and writing it was fun too. I remember observing the classmates around me as we all waited to hopefully be released early from school because of the falling snow. :) I don't remember however if we did get released early or not. Goes to show it's the waiting that counts and not the prize. :) ~T

Reality

Usually I talk after the poem, but I am doing before today. ;p I was looking through old writings of mine from high school. I found two old poems I wrote for a class. I thought I would share them with you. enjoy :) ~T

Old age bitterly falls
falls into my bones, into my skin
skin droops and wrinkles and is tanned
tanned as a young Californian, happy in the sun
sun shines through the windows of my dreary, dark room
room for my children, my grandchildren, to run and play
play an old hymn on the organ at church
church is where I congregate among my friends
friends grow old... I grow old.

Is I

Who I am, Is I
a subtle breeze through the trees
a bluebird flitting across the sky
Who I am, Is I
the sunlight glittering through the trees
the splash of color from a butterfly
Who I am, Is I
a drip of golden dew from a leaf
a flash of fur from a deer slipping by
Who I am, Is I
the blue drip, drip, drop of rain
the quiet slip of a shade, gone by
Who I am, Is I
a brittle bark of a log, decomposing
a changing leaf beneath the fly
Who I am, Is I
the song of the hidden bird at night
the cold touch of rock beneath the night sky
Who I am, Is I.


This poem was inspired by the song Who You Are by Jessie J. Beautiful song. :)
~T

Paths

Which path, which path?
which path to take?
the lands are treacherous
and there's so much at stake
Worlds flow through
Rich with promise
Itching, clawing, begging
to ring the glottis
a hearty laugh
full of soul
smile upon
her senses dulled
which path, which path?
her path to take
all or none
her heart does ache
reaching, seeking, taking all
to sing out laughter
from her stories' sway
string the notes
high with joy
as each path unfurles
each path deployed.


It's been a long time since I have posted a new poem. Mostly because it's been almost that long since I have written one. My mind has been distracted with other writings and readings which actually inspired this poem. I have been working on several story ideas as well as working on one novel and reading several novels. It's hard to choose which story to delve into though, which is what inspired this poem. =) enjoy.
~T