bailey-wallace
English
A freethinking, innocent, stubborn woman. On the verge of graduating college with a degree in English that I have no clue what I wanna do with. Writing is one thing I understand. I may not always do it grammatically correct with brilliant metaphors, perfect flow, amazing characters, and keep you up all-night-long because you can't-put-it-down plots- but it's what I do. So here I am.
I awoke to Grey skies. That all day Gray.
Blissful stupor, dreamland trance, please never leave.
Kind, sweet nothings, I’ll follow these tall plays
Fill me, take me to the world of naive.
Notes build inside, longing for liberation.
The words are stolen, locked up, quelled
Bitter, sorrow filled, happiness. Infatuation?
No, doubt not, I loved. But feelings dispel
Will I always yearn, for a flirtation
Will I always yearn, O deep magic spell,
For sweet words, kisses? O blankly staring,
Stupid ceiling, stupid allegations
From my dark depths, close voices do compel
Begone, stray…For now, good dear, stop sharing.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 2:41 PM UTC
Vision Blurred from mind murmurs, I pause.
Weak so very weak, ideas -the main cause-
It starts with thought, Mine? Maybe. Theirs? Viable.
Perchance a sight sparks sources, pliable
To my forgotten fountain of words and youth.
Whatever kerosene lights false truths,
Matters not, the elicit creation
Itself boils thick blood, a gyration
Of self-exploration and daydreams.
Envision that my dear, a lonely sunbeam:
It is there! Muses dancing in the field,
Undulating excitement revealed!
The blank page beckons, the clever pen begs
To strut. Alas! Its form flutters, the dregs
Remain to tease&taunt; the restless soul
My mind murmurs, trapped, weakened: the sinkhole
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 8:32 PM UTC