Having such a broad range of weather within these four seasons
is like never knowing which eccentric neighbor will come…
knocking at the door-
She gently raps against the door, and upon opening…
In an instant, I’m blinded by her exuberant radiance.
But with her painfully bright exterior is a cold chill
It strips all my heat away, as if she was stealing
all of the warmth from the comfort of my residence.
She is cold and critical, yet, she visits often still.
Her friend is equally bright, but when she arrives alone,
the meeting is far more cordial. Her gentle smile,
It brings a vibrant luscious glow to the greenery.
Her garden comes alive. “My! how the flowers have grown”
She is patient, and cares for nature all the while
Such nurturing tenderness. Considerate, like a mother.
A soft rhythmic tapping at my door sometimes occurs.
It’s times like these that I don’t even answer at all.
If I am prepared, then the visit can be pleasant and enjoyable.
but when she appears when I least expect.
and it quickly becomes a gloomy and miserable ordeal.
But other times it’s abrasive, it’s a horrible racket.
It is even possible to experience these characters all in one day.
One… after the other…
But they are my neighbors, unpredictable as they may be.
It can be, at times, taxing, but at others, relaxing.
But I’m to stay all the same.
Updates are slowing down as of late since I’m doing some larger projects as well as dealing with a whole bunch of other things. This poem is just a small little nod to the weather in New York where you can easily get Spring and Winter all in the same day.
I should hopefully be finished with the short story sometime before the end of March, but I want to make sure it’s totally ready.
Enveloped, drowned. Sunken deep into the murky abyss.
The darkness entraps in its depths those who dare gaze
Inward. Light faintly glows, attempting to pierce the haze.
I dare to traverse alone, with careful footfalls in the mist
Impeded only by my will to continue. My doubts, I dismiss
This inward journey did not take long; I remain unfazed.
The event horizon swallows whole what little that stays,
And the end of my path in sight; Onward, I follow my bliss.
The light shines even brighter still, at the edge of oblivion.
Her name is Hope and I remembered at that moment, still,
Her luminescence lit a path Darkness rendered invisible
Faced with the choice, I stumbled down the path-labyrinthian
and followed her new path therein, newfound courage instilled.
I breached my darkness, but it from light, is indistinguishable.
I started writing this and felt like it needed a few more parts, but I thought it was complete enough construction-wise to stand on its own for now. It has a pretty bleak outlook on being consumed with our own inward feelings and how hope can guide. Hope is something that shows us the way, but it is pretty easy to lose when you get it. I’ll be working on this more alongside some other non-poem stuff that I have planned out, which will be coming out at some point.
Who cares?- This exactly is why I have no patience…
I wrote this one a long time ago and revised it because I thought it was pretty lacking. I tried to capture a sort of persona; a person experiencing mundane things who cares more about what takes the least amount of effort rather than what people think of them/what they think of other people.
For Violet, Four Violets
I sit on my porch and spy your namesake;
It’s as pretty as lavender by my feet.
Their dandy bloom, as pansies swoon, in the wind
Their scent- subtle, faint and sweet
wafts delicately, enveloping me in its gentle comfort.
They glow, and like amethyst with its many facets,
each shine in their respective ways.
The sorrowful drooping of the petals I pluck,
with thoughts of my beloved, like daisies.
And during such daydreams, I wander to and fro,
along the cascades, a spectrum of colors
and awaiting patiently, besides streaks of white and blue
Violet violets, they welcome me. With open arms,
I fall gently into the pool of purple petals,
my vision surrounded by the sight of its majesty.
And as the sun set, with haste, I pick as a dear reminder,
to leave by your doorstep with Love; For Violet, four violets.
Be sure to follow my amazing friend, Violet! This poem was inspired by her and written for her birthday. Show her some love! (Also, Happy Valentines Day!)
I should probably answer.
and sent the fear of heaven through me.
you answer that call.
I stopped listening.
This started out as a writing exercise from about 2 years ago, and I have revised it a little bit recently. The responses themselves might seem bleak, at first, but there is certainly something satisfying about refusing to accept those lifeless platitudes and pave our own path relatively free of outside influences.