Tuesday, April 5, 2011

I Dream of Nightmares

Monsters creep into my nightmares each night.
Dangerous beings,
 the creatures of fright.

They claw and they snap,
causing fear to the meek.

The most hideous sights,
 revealed in the night.
For the darkness embraces and envelops the plight.

The demons surround me,
their laughs they sound like a gun.
The people around me screaming danger and run.

I glance to the weaker,
all bloody and torn.
Then look to the monsters,
 so gloriously forlorn.

I take just a moment,
Which side should I choose?
The shallow and stricken?
Or the fierce with a bite?

I quickly decide,
my mind is made up,
my answer is chosen,
my fate has been sealed,

I choose darkness and mystery,
And leave light to the weak,
For who am I to stray with the meek?

Monday, April 4, 2011

A Different Voice

Paint flows across the page.
expressing words she cannot say.
It splashes her thoughts in their faces,
dots of ideas they could never understand.
It traces its way down the page,
 caressing the paper like a lover who understands.
She cannot speak.
But her paints do it for her.
Today they are screaming what she’s aching to say.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Take A Fall

Slowly falling down the slide.
Lowering your body to absorb the impact.
Internalizing the pain to keep from crying out.
Pushing yourself up afterwards.
Pulling at ever in piece of self control.
Inching into a standing position.
Nodding to show the outside world you’re ok.
Going away with a smile even though every inch of you screams to fall again.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Art is movement

Art is movement.
Reacting to what happens because you can’t control it.
Thrusting yourself into the moment because it just happens.
Art is unpredictable.
Reaching to achieve something that’s worth any effort.
Trusting that the final project will work out.
Art is pain.
Remembering each cut and scrape tied to a final piece of work.
Torturing yourself because it’s what must be done.

Friday, April 1, 2011

A Different Kind of Fun

Walking words like strangers in the night,
slipping past empty street light.
Dashing across pages like children during a day,
hiding under covers to keep the nightmares at bay.
Slipping into holes to stop up leaks,
twisting and turning to play for keeps.
Traveling the world on their own walk ways,
shush my dear there are words at play.


So a friend invited me to participate in NaPoWriMo which I believe stands for National Poetry writing month! Since poetry is one of my weak areas I'm going to go for it! I cleared out this journal because I love the name I gave it and figured that since I don't post to it that often and no one follows it the posts won't be missed. So wish me luck with improving my poetry!