chelsea-eldridge
American
It's amazing when we experience those little moments in time that truly inspire us. It is in those moments that I realize what it truly means to be living. A poet exudes this inspiration through the dance of words that can spark passion in the hearts of many. The best thing about poetry is that it displays beauty in its lines and holds a message that speaks from deep within
There has been quite some distance between you and I
Not to mention the 5 year span of time that's passed us by.
There were days of recognition
others were idle in focus
When you came back,
it was like a sail boat in a dream
that had once riled in me such a fuss.
I now play with ships and study in trade winds
while leaving my childhood fancies adrift.
Perhaps you mean to bring them back to me
or offer a needed lift.
In this gesture, I felt your warmth,
pleasant to my icy skin
Yet it will not cure frost-bite,
or the frequent chill I feel within.
I see through the cookie cutter concept:
either way the dough will taste the same.
I recall your voice, the mention of our past,
leaves shudders I can hardly tame.
Things have changed and yet you only see the stains in the curtains
Because you remember how they got there,
while the rest is uncertain.
Time is our element, and that, I have no stake in
We rise to the occasion and lay down to rest
only to begin again.
Maybe I am bitter;
by your selfish intent,
it is justly proven so.
You can't hurry me along;
I am a pacer,
something I'll bet you didn't know.
We aren't playing with old puzzles pieces;
I put those together long ago.
I hate the way I hate you;
after all,
you're trying so hard.
No matter how much I want you to understand,
my words don't get very far.
The proof will come from whatever you don't let me burn,
whatever respect you can find for me,
whatever you can learn from my distance,
however harsh, it has a purpose.
I'd rather have the time well spent with a good friend;
a two-week lover is unrealistic
and altogether worthless.
If the choice bestowed by your actions remains:
Enjoy the weeks here without me:
from this visit, I have nothing to gain.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
We are young and this is not our doing.
The nature of our minds, still developing and growing;
Like that terrible creation tugging at the sides
of the sanity we structure, but fail to abide.
Is it guilty to do what we must to preserve our own futures
at the cost of one?
What was done was in good fun and its consequence shall be undone.
Let not this be an anchor on your breast.
Plant your seed in my garden; I will do the rest.
While you sleep, secure and sound
in your bed, mine is barred and bound.
These walls hold no comfort and now your presence
has lost its zest for feelings, fun and pleasant.
This divided line stretched between two bodies
forebodes punishment; its beauty embodies
the strings so delicately holding together
a potential miracle in a distant future;
One we are not ready to come.
What was done is done and the consequence shall be undone.
The aching is physical and steadily it grows.
Yours is an internal twisting of mental chaos that woes.
It is not a fair exchange of shared yet misplaced pains.
What one has lost the other gains.
But this is not a fair trade:
For me, for you, for anyone with this debt mistakenly made.
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 10:32 PM UTC
Inhale one puff;
Exhale some smoke.
Constrict your air with a mingled cough.
Overwhelm your lungs and begin to choke.
Relax for a moment.
Crack a smile.
Laugh compulsively at a funny joke.
Come home spent from long hard days and rest awhile.
Sip once..sip twice, then chug the rest.
You’re feeling good, but it could always get better.
Now that it’s better you could strive for best.
A sidestep becomes a stumble becomes a trip
Followed by a solid landing, a crash filled with pain;
Laughter turns to tears of agony tinged with a ****** lip
Carelessness becomes drowning shame by the extent that you’ve poisoned your brain.
This isn’t you!
A party becomes a crime scene,
With a survivor or two.
Maybe tomorrow will wipe the slate clean,
For every thought put into action
Will purge an equal reaction.
Be careful which plans you make,
Or else pay the toll on your life’s mistakes.
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
The moon’s luminous lighting replaced the sun’s piercing gleam
Flickering stars appear that remind me of strobe lights in a ballroom dream
Where everyone has a partner; all dashing knights and princesses
Adorned in armor, family crests, and pretty dazzling dresses.
A kiss and a bow a knight would gladly court his lady with
The pair is invincible as long as they are together
from this spark of love, they live happily ever after
Enchanted castles that promise to fulfill your deepest desire
Love’s iridescent reflections of beauty to admire
Lasting as long as forever in souls entwined
By say, magic, or enlightenment, or both combined.
Maybe love carries from life to life sowing
the seeds of dreams that yearned to be real
and so sparked the light that grew between two people, conceiving a deal
Of binding heart and soul
Thereby forever needing the other to make one whole.
But what about the lost souls that set out to find this other half?
Those that loved and lost it all and now they read about fairytales and laugh.
Ship these make-believe fantasies back to the sender
Or leave them with the offender that said to her,
“Things will be different, I promise.”
How many promises will be broken before her heart is?
In the end fairytales don’t really exist
Even the princess doesn’t always get the prince
Spells and eternal sleep can’t be cured with a kiss
Beauty isn’t locked in a tower with an evil mistress
Hardly anyone wears lace and frilly dresses
Happily ever after is ******* by impending death
Wishing upon a star takes a lot of breath
And for all that hope and relinquished control
It never granted a wish for a single soul
Jimminy Cricket never really stuck with it
Pinnochio got trapped in a fire and burned in its pit
All the tales are true, it doesn’t mean Disney’s sadistic
But he had a dream that the world neglected
When his spirit passed on from Earth, so went the gleam
Of a million heartfelt stories that once enchanted our childhood dreams.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 2:00 AM UTC
Rest in peace willow of the nest
My condolences for such dreadfulness
I did not mean for the sun to neglect you
I did not mean for your leaves to abandon you
Forgive me, dear willow of the nest
Forsaken by all the living
****** by such dreary darkness.
Dear willow tree,
No longer will I burden thee
When your seeds begin to grow
I hope that you know
Your new life will intertwine with my death
And with my last breath I’ll curse you with my sorrow
You won’t see me tomorrow
Past the pain of now’s goodbyes
Please tell me why, oh why!
Dear willow of the nest
Do you think pondering such revenge is best?
Trade your soul in for new branches instead of
Sleeping in the maggots that fill your trunk bed
Meanwhile,
lingering upon the magic tops of neighboring trees are new seeds
They shall bring with them bold opportunities,
Their company shall bloom gardens
They shall dance in the wind while summoning a thousand pardons
For they shall not be the ones to fill your empty nest
That once carried in it a hopeful wish, at best.
Every last piece of me has dispersed into the universe
Never again shall they come together
Never again shall I be whole
You can grow old with your new endeavor
While I create art with my soul.
Goodbye, my beloved willow tree of the nest
You were a fantasy; a courter; a lover;
A whimsical romance, at best.
Mar 11, 2011
Mar 11, 2011 at 7:40 PM UTC
Forget the days we shared
Forget the smiles, the tears, the words too coarse to bear.
Forget the blooms in Spring dancing through the air
Forget the garden we abandoned there
Leave thorns of plenty, and roses rare
Forget the voice of a sweet melody
Forget the buzzing bees tending to honey
Forget the notion of you and me
Forget the spices in recipes spoilt
The taste is a bitter sweet result
Forget what weather we braved together
Forget the cliche that everything gets better
Forget what you want to remember
Forget what should be and what doesn't matter
Revoke your thoughts, the hypocrisy they flatter.
Forget waking up in warming arms,
Seducing me with your charms
Forget whatever you gave me, though it wasn't much
A breath, A kiss, A touch.
Enough!
Forget all that I've said
These thoughts turning in my head
Filling me with dread
The words I've written and you have read
Forget it!
Those days are over my mind is set
Forget we ever met.
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 2:56 PM UTC
My ****** heart runs deep
Pulsating rivers in my veins
that once nourished me before you came
and soaked up every drop
with nothing left to reap
while the flak of your memory still remains.
The day we met,
Temperate winds cradled leaves fresh from their vines,
unseasoned by nature’s trials.
Today,
they lie crumbled among debris
broken wilted pieces in scattered piles.
Carefree days that had no price
Oh how you yearned to woe me
Companion nights; they did suffice
Until troubled longing riled the sea
Did you sense the suspense?
Naked under the burrow
Of sullen sheets enveloped in scents,
stale and past
You: my daring knight of chivalry
Whose promise did not last
and so the wind said unto thee,
“set me free.”
Morning tastes dewy tears trickling into memories we hoped to never speak again
Shifting through the seasons
the beginning of the end
I willed my seeds to grow through the disdained soil they’ve rooted in.
Leaving them grimy rot staked in solace
Feelings left dead sprout a calm that quickly frames trust
What purpose serves a creation left abandoned in the dust?
Hear it. Speak it. See it as it comes.
In dreams they lay tiles under trodden feet.
Steps that cannot be taken up again
and so commends your defeat.
One day, in autumn or is it spring?
The anxious blossoms danced away in the wind.
You swept them up with swinging arms
Urging every pedal to descend
From weeping barren trees foiled from your charm
Words back then took form in a man
Working a path inside a woman’s heart
Mapping her wishes into works of art
Now lie down upon this mold
of every simple broken thing you ever tried to fix
It isn’t worth the truth you sold
To quell your nature with docility that shields arrogance with bricks.
When you returned sullied by days of wandering
Through decay and rotten secrets
I laid my head to rest in the crook of your neck
Sheltered by my need, unseen by your gaze
This moment of clarity, I locked inside my ****** heart
where it will rot and die through the passing days.
Jan 16, 2011
Jan 16, 2011 at 6:21 PM UTC
A married couple built a home.
They filled it with sustenance, carried trouble from the mist
Shrugged their tired shoulders and said, "the heck with it."
A few months later, they worked diligently
to make ends meet and settled with three.
The first was science;
his eyes black to the depths of feelings
catered by human beings.
He had no ambitions;
Life carried for him, no mission
He settled with a distant universe
Lost to the world, cradled by the stars.
The second was art;
her eyes open to life's imagery,
Frivolous to reality,
Living in fantasy,
Outwardly misplaced in a world confined,
By laws and walls that vex her open mind.
She sees the universe in people;
The color they shine from souls, divine
While the world just comes and goes.
The third was physics;
Always in motion, unable to rest,
Fixed in her thinking, quick to protest
the world's catastrophes offsetting her inertia,
Grounded by gravity bound by rule,
Drugged by ambition avowed to a criteria,
Where everything needs fixing and she is the tool.
In the company of such diversity,
Option created the university.
Send your offspring there.
Tell them to learn what is worth knowing:
That change is infinite and life keeps going,
and love has no limits, it keeps on growing,
as long as there is air to breath and feelings worth showing.
In the end it comes down to chemistry,
But the result always varies;
Creating a creature of beauty
From acceptance and unity
That carries on the legacy,
Of subjective company.
Sometimes, the unexpected can be so lovely.
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 11:46 PM UTC
Young mothers with freshly sprung gardens
stuck in a field of weeds,
take their burdens
and ball them up into a life of needs.
Filling their wombs with tender heart beats,
our generation had a plan
that fell into the soil and planted seeds.
Flowers bloom in gardens again,
reflecting treacherous shame:
a mark misplaced in youth,
forever imprinting itself to one's name.
Reality is a saddened truth.
Let your grass grow high;
on your lawns free, beautiful, and green,
while the birds flee, spread their wings and take to the sky
breaking the ranks with empty bellies and faces unclean.
Eventually the garden will need tending
but the young can't raise the young
when their cuts were left without mending
and their songs were left unsung.
Open mouths prepare for their feast
but exhaustion steals the will
while the main course feeds the beast
and the famined become the ****
When life is a garden in a desert
the roots imbed themselves deep,
until fertility is an act to convert
the rotten fruits that lay rejected, and weep.
Mothers go out and touch the petals
from the flowers of their wombs, untimely torn,
learning the delicacy of roots grounded and settled
in a garden of weeds where their burdens are born.
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 12:21 PM UTC
There is magic in these delicate little beginnings
where half the challenge is reaping the winnings.
Perhaps the choice is not half bad and the troubled waters ahead are nothing to fret about.
I've been thinking of a time when things were so simple; the lapses in time when your body and mine filled the empty space;
this is what carefree moments must resemble..
"What do you mean I'm using you?"
We are all users of something and living is never nothing.
Our conversations always so shallow,
the surface disturbed; everything underneath left hallow.
Your little gestures, gracious and fair.
left behind trailing whispers: "Don't worry. I'm here. I care."
My eyes took in every passing glance,
My feet frolicked through the shrouding wisp
Chasing seductive whistles, gone and past.
You..
I..
We didn't dare the distance over mountaintops caked in snow.
Then came Spring; she bested the seasons when she dressed the naked trees again
Nurtured fertile seeds
Singing mother's lullaby: "Grow, children, grow!"
I couldn't see the face of reason
just receding numbers,
counting down the steps we danced to.
The tune sickened me;
my breath grew short;
my hands did tremble.
The tears were warm but your eyes were not!
"These are not the moments we resemble!"
Was it wrong to tell you those words when things felt rehearsed?
My head to your chest, your heartbeat against my cheek..
The chorus of your voice, cordially versed..
The sight of the slight curve sculpted perfectly with tender lips,
creating a smirk that melted every part of me, from feet to fingertips.
These little junctures in time never come that simple.
We carry on living, but this is the moment I resemble!
"What time is the right one and why and when and how is it ever wrong?"
"In truth, and truth is the sad tune of a song, life always goes on."
I'm sick from misplaced words and those you chose to make your fist;
the impact I felt and the resentment that grew from this;
the regret we've both worn and exchanged through a kiss..
"Words aren't always everything but they can take so much!
They've withered my heart and defiled your touch!"
But those little moments were so simple
When we could bask in the company of each other
and time danced on without disturbing two happy lovers.
These delicate parts I remember them clear,
they've become the memories I hold dear,
Thinking of you now my heart does tremble;
Murmuring a secret for no one to hear:
"These are the moments we resemble."
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 9:41 AM UTC