hollie
Canadian
There are many things that inspire me to write. My feelings, my emotions, the natural world and what I percieve around me. Sometimes words just start tumbling into my head and I have to write them down. This is what I have mulled over, wrote about, and thought. My one real goal is to express the feelings that I am having at the time that I write my poetry, other than that I have no real goals for my work except for people to enjoy and appreciate it. Maybe some of what I write will explain how you are feeling.
Sometimes when I feel this way
all I need is you to hold me.
To tell me it will all get better.
The tears roll down my cheeks
and you ask "what's wrong?"
I don't reply.
I can't.
The words are stuck in my throat.
There's a maelstrom of thoughts screaming through my head.
I am silent, yet the screaming gets louder.
I can't speak.
I won't speak.
I won't release this insanity upon your ears
I won't give in to the screaming raging in my head.
The monster inside wants to rage and tear
Tear away our love.
Tear away my sanity
I am not silent to push you away
I am silent to keep you near
I can fight the monster.
I know its weaknesses.
It is me.
Sometimes I need you to hold me.
Tell me it will all get better.
That I can fight this monster screaming inside my head.
Sometimes the tears help,
But I can't speak.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 3:04 PM UTC
There aren't enough hours in the day to tell you of all the ways that I hate you and love you.
All in the same breath.
This maelstrom of emotion is grinding my soul away.
Sloughing off microscopic bits of myself with every phrase;
every word out of your mouth.
I feel a tide as strong as the pull of the moon,
Always bringing me back to you
Never going far enough away to break this link
The world isn't far enough away
How much more must I give up?
My WHOLE essence?
Or just some of it?
Do I stay and love you without my dreams?
Or do I leave and dream,
But never love you again?
Until the questions are answered
My soul is wearing down.
Wearing thin from the grind of everyday life
This constant need to always have a smile on my face
When all I wish for is the dark.
To cry away all my sorrows
The tears won't wash them away.
There aren't enough tears in all the world to cry away the loss
The loss of a dream,
Or the loss of a love.
I love you and hate you.
All in the same breath.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
i am wounded. a soldier with a broken heart marching through life because that’s all i know how to do and all that’s left to do even though my heart is bleeding down my chest. there is no where to lay to heal. no one there to bandage me and mend my heart. i will only get blood upon those who come near enough to touch. is that all there is? just life an arm’s length away from the gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be? the sludging along through the muck and slime foraging ever onward toward the light shining at the end of the path of life? does my journey consist of my heart being missing for so long? how does one live with a hole through their body for so long? why haven’t i succumbed and fallen to the ground my life fled from my body like the birds from the trees? is there something holding me here? i try to look at the sky with optimism. i want to know the joy of the sun on my skin again. i want to feel embraced by the wind again. i want the rain to soak my hair and run down my face again. i am glad i’m alone. i don’t think i could stand to have anyone see the state that my soul has come to. i am in limbo and many thoughts from others keep me here and prevent me from stretching toward the sky with my arms raised pleading for release…..limbo. that is where my soul is crushed. where i am held hostage by this heart that no longer is my own. it belongs to those who want me in their lives, but i have no wish to stay here. i long to move beyond limbo. to go where the land is green
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 2:19 AM UTC
everytime i hear this voice,
i’m reminded of you.
the touch, the look, the smile,
all the pain and joy wrapped into a tangled ball
and taken with you when you left.
you were not good for me
yet you were the best thing for me
sweet, bitter, angry, exstatic
never conforming, never defining
always contradicting
always chaotic
always selfish
that’s what i get
that’s what i get
for loving you
the tears that fell,
the smiles that we shared,
so little time spent with you
impacted me for a life time
defined me, molded me, shaped me
i know the pieces fit, but not with me.
never with me.
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 2:14 AM UTC
stuck in your own hell
you don’t see the hand you have
reaching out for everyone around you
spreading your malice and grief
you don’t see the hand you have
in everyone else’s pain
grabbing onto them
drowning them while trying to be saved
wanting to be happy
smothering the fear with a bottle
you see a sunrise in the bottom of a glass
pity and consideration are handed out
with only good intentions,
but you toss them back,
now only more excuses stopping you
wishing life would hand you gold
yet providing you with dross
tainting everyone around you
with the venom that oozes from your pores
and leaves friends with the coppery taste
in their mouths of blood
from the words of advice and wisdom
trying to claw their way out
between clenched teeth.
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 2:12 AM UTC
From where I sit I see the stars,
And down the chilly floor
The moon between the frozen bars
Is glimmering dim and hour.
Without in many a peaked mound
The glinting snowdrifts lie;
There is no voice or living sound;
The embers slowly die.
Yet some wild thing is in mine ear;
I hold my breath and hark:
Out of the depth I seem to hear
A crying in the dark;
No sound of man or wife or child,
No sound of beast that groans,
Or of the wind that whistles wild,
Or of the tree that moans:
I know not what it is I hear;
I bend my head and hark;
I cannot drive it from mine ear,
That crying in the dark
- Archibald Lampman (1861 – 1899)
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I’m sitting here under a huge willow tree and I can see the stars shining through the leaves. I can also see the bright full moon lighting up this ash and yew forest as if it were daylight. The peaked snow drifts are pushed into miniature mountains against the sides of the old roman road.
I am camped just off the road in a military-issue leather tent, which is not the warmest thing for winter patrol, but it doesn’t leak. The hardest part about garrison duty is that I’m camped on the border of the Saxon shore and I’m all alone. The next closest military camp is half a day’s walk, which is a bit too far if I get into trouble, but I can’t do anything about it.
There is no sound at all, except for the popping of the dying fire. It is as peaceful as peaceful can be in the dark wilderness. Suddenly I hear the strangest sound I’ve ever heard in my life. It sounds like something crying in the dark. It fades and I hold my breath waiting for the sound to repeat itself. It doesn’t sound like anything closely resembling a human, but it sounds like crying. The wind doesn’t even make noise like that. I tell myself that it must be the trees moaning, even though it is starting to make the hairs on my neck stand up.
I stand up and search around my small campsite, peering into the shadows that surround my tent. There is nothing that I can see out in the winter darkness except shadows and moonlight reflecting off the snow. I sit here huddled in my fur-lined cloak for warmth; my back pressed against the willow as I wait for dawn. The beautiful winter night that was has just turned dark and sinister.
Every slight sound makes me jump. All sounds are unidentifiable to me now; I can no longer tell the trees rubbing up against each other from a monster traipsing through the woods. The hairs on the back of my neck are now standing right on end. The crying in the dark has sounded again, and I sit here and wait unmoving for the horror to end.
“Dawn will soon come,” I keep telling myself over and over like a prayer against the sound pounding upon my ears. I do not know what is out in the winter darkness that keeps crying. I can clearly see the road outlined in the moonlight from my camp, yet I still can not fathom what is making that sound, or where it is coming from.
I can feel my gut cramp and the bark of the willow being pressed into my spine as the sound repeats itself once again. The sweat of fear is chilling me as it runs down my back and soaks my shirt. This is what all men of the Island fear: the returning of the Saxons. I don’t want to die young. I know all about the glories of battle and the face of war. I’ve seen it too many times in my short life, and lived through it to die of fear on a winter’s night huddled here in the dark, listening with all my might to a howling sound that won’t leave my ears.
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 8:49 AM UTC
All alone, yet surrounded by so many
Faces watching faces without letting on that they peek
Thoughts that usually aren’t thought
bubble up through the mind.
As fleeting images flash by like a strobe light
Pictures into other people’s lives flit past
almost too quick for thought
A face is illuminated by recognition and
is kept animated by the familiar
The illumination dies and the face once again
resorts to its stoic politeness
The noise is undistinguishable from the chatter
I step down
Am briefly bathed in the pool of light allowed to follow me.
The doors close
And I am alone again.
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 8:43 AM UTC
Go to sleep little bluebird
Close your eyes now little bluebird
Go to sleep now little bluebird
Sleep tight
The moon has kissed your brow
The stars have sung your lullaby
The clouds have tucked you in
It’s time to dream
Go to sleep little bluebird
Close your eyes now little bluebird
Go to sleep now little bluebird
And dream
The fairies are watching
You’re safe now little bluebird
Go with the sandman and dream
Go to sleep little bluebird
Close your eyes now little bluebird
Go to sleep now little bluebird
Sweet dreams
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 8:42 AM UTC
This ache in my chest
Is a hollow and empty space
My heart has shrunken and
Hardened.
There is nothing left but a void
My sorrow is a living thing
And it transforms me
Into something that I do not like
Yet I am helpless to change it
I have aged before his very eyes
There is nothing left of the child
Or if there is, I know not
There is a child there
Hiding
In the dark recesses of my mind
I know she’s there
Hiding
I try to coax her out
But she won’t come
She can’t hear me calling to her
Through the gloom of my memories
The darkness is a wall that keeps me from her
And her from me
I cry for her to emerge from this well that is my soul
But she can’t hear me
I can’t reach her
She doesn’t want to come out
The world is full of sorrow and pain
Why let my child see all of this
It is better for her to hide inside of me
But my soul is tarnished like old silver
That is never in use and left to time
And it pollutes our view of the world
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 8:40 AM UTC
This is to all my friends
who in their time have come to love me
as I love them.
For everyone who said a kind word,
For the friends who came to me
with their problems,
For the friends who helped me study,
For the friends who I cheered up
when they were down,
For the friends who took me to the movies,
For the friends I made birthday cakes for,
For the friends who were there through thick and thin,
And who’ll be there again,
For the friends and the times we shared,
For the friends who put up with me when I whine,
For the friends that I try to keep smiling,
For the friends who will stay with me until the end,
I hope our times, memories and moments will stay with you forever.
Thank you.
Aug 24, 2010
Aug 24, 2010 at 8:39 AM UTC