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Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
Despite all outward appearances
It does no one any good to go yammering on
about how sardonically he laughed
and how much he cried
and how many words were spoken the next day
flash poetry 2/7
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
We could tear the world asunder, you and I
Our footfalls echo thunderous across these marble walls
And we would watch, hand in hand
The cataclysmic falling of dawn
All red shadows and burning marble faces
For who but us could make the world blaze so bright
flash poetry 1/7
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
There is such a place that I can see
The sun’s bright tendrils touching me
There I’ll stay and there I’ll shine
And all the light of the world could be mine.

The only darkness lurking there
Is the sun caught in her raven hair
I wish the world could behold it’s shine
For it was ever more beautiful than mine

There are stars held in her ocean eyes
Warding off secret shadows that I despise
Not even tears could dull their shine
Though, her pain is also mine

Flowers deck her brow so bright
Heather and violets, to my delight
The sun, herself, she could outshine
And I know her love is mine

Her voice rings like crystal bells
To all the larks and doves it knells
Within her there is such a shine
I feel her heart does beat with mine
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
Say but a few words and you’ll capture my heart

One word sets my face to smile
Two words sets my eyes alight
Three words make my world bright

I.      Love.     You.

It’s simple, right?
But never had I heard it when we were apart

And in the dream-lit air of night
I see you words and feel your light
I imagine you must be one of my sun-spun knights

I can sleep soundly and dream with delight
After talking to an angel all through the night
For what would I be without my crusader of light
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
She is a constellation brought to life
Carved greek marble with a pulse running through her throat
Her tongue is clad with silver
Her hair shines bright as a sparrow’s feather
But when she bleeds
And oh, how she bleeds
Her blood runs red as any other’s

There are demons in this world, you see
Who know it’s easy for me
To mistake her smile for a sunrise
Spectors who seek to destroy such light
For who in the world is more beautiful that she?

I’d bind her heart with mine
To save her from the world’s spite
I’d breathe life into her lungs as if they were my own
Because no monster is as fearsome
As a world deprived of her grace
No beast could be as brutal
As a day without her heartbeat
For she is love, laughter, and goodness untainted
The dawn that rises radiantly
Over every day and daunting night
  Jan 2015 Caitlin Fisher
Dust Bowl
I carry my backpack, and the addition thirty pounds of stress that goes along with it.
I carry an MP3 player, filled with 1500 songs that make more sense to me than any math lesson ever has.
I carry a necklace from the 1800's that no one in my family cares enough about to remember who it originally belonged to. We both carry the feeling of being passed along.
I carry a notebook with letters I'll never have the nerve to send. I carry a pen that's been through more with me than any of my friends.
I carry my scraped knees and a tendency to fall to the waste side.
I carry my father's temper like a hot coal in the pit of my stomach. I carry his high expectations and my mother's victim complex. All three of which are, apparently, hereditary.
I carry Chapstick, Neosporin, and band-aids. Because things crack, and things break, and some things tend to cut.
I carry the same mindset as an Oxford comma and a worry of being replaced. We both carry the feeling of not really mattering.
I carry my uncle's divorce, & the way we buried him only a year after the papers were signed. I carry the way his ex wife's grudge is stronger than her children's love for their family.
I carry the dream catcher my dad keeps in his room, the one I got rid of years ago when I realized nothing would keep my nightmares away.
I carry the time my hero had his heart broken and spent the next year at the bottom of a bottle.
I carry the headstone that marks the beginning of my abandonment issues.
I carry a .037 fl oz tube of eyeliner in the hopes that no one will mess with a girl who always looks like she has two black eyes.
I carry a pre-med major that will never make me as happy as it will make my parents. I carry my family's hopes on my back & the way I feel like an emergency room with no more room left for patients.
I carry my best friend's name like an obituary I never got to read. I carry the way his head hit his windshield faster than it ever hit my lap, and the way I've hated sitting in the driver's seat ever since. I carry the way I never want to be invited to another funeral & the way each body they've buried makes me feel like I'm already 6 feet under.
I carry the mattress I slept on as a child. Pink flowers & blue satin & cold sweats detergent couldn't fade. The one I spent an entire afternoon scrubbing bloodstains out of, hoping my mother wouldn't notice when she changed the sheets. She never did, or at least she never asked, and sometimes I still wish she had.
I carry how my friend thinks her high school boyfriend breaking up with her is the worst that could happen, and the way I hope she always does.
A response to "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien (a book I HIGHLY recommend).
Caitlin Fisher Dec 2014
I left my sweetest soldier to go sailing across the sea
Though flowers bloomed and beetles buzzed
There I could not stand to be

I worked for hours on my island sitting in the west
Plucking feathers and butterfly wings for my king to see
Hypothetical horrors forever clawing at my chest

I received letters from my soldier when the sky was drenched with red
Written in her curled script and adorned in her family's crest
Though her words were gentle they did little to ease my dread

She told tales of made-up magpie dragons waiting at the harbor to whisk me away
Trying to plant seeds of shining thought into my shy head
But all I could see was the ragged beast turning towards his new prey

I sent letters back, of course, laden with pressed flowers
I hoped the goldenrod would reach her by the break of day
For I alone, it seemed, knew of its potential powers

She returned my nervous musings quickly, telling me to cease my fear
Saying that she and her knights were never ones to cower
Still, I wished so desperately that she was near

We exchanged our little letters for months on end
Until one day, things ceased to be so clear
That scratched script was not that of my beloved friend

She insisted it was, in many a letter
But for all her insisting, she could scarcely pretend
I knew her hands did not tremble so like aspen leaves blown by foul weather

I sent her Christmas roses that I knew she couldn’t resist
To catch her eye, I also sent her little white locks of heather
Though, I could only see the metal-forged fennel wrapped around her wrist

If she could hardly write on her own, how is she supposed to defend a king?
She'll try to lead her knights, regardless, and this time the enemy won't miss
Their hated blades will scar her shoulder with only a single swing

I could not think in the daytime and I could not sleep at night
My hands twisted in my sheets, fearing what news her next letter would bring
My mind only saw the beasts and berserkers that she would have to fight

Her letter did not come in the morning and it had not come by noon
I begged the empty air to tell me everything would be all right
But, my only companion in my panicked pacing was the slowly rising moon

It came when I watched butterflies, and I found I could no more pluck their wings for prizes
The writing was not hers and to this I could not attune
I only hoped the letter held no more dark surprises

“My Lady is ill,” or so it read
I scratch at my nails and bite my lips as my fear rises
“She wants to see that exile,” and so it said

I stared at the misplaced paper with the hated script
Though it was only parchment, it sat in my hands like lead
Through my wavering heart had the scribe’s words ripped

I wanted to send my letter quickly, praying I would not be too late
or, at least, I hoped, it would not see her in her crypt
A scribe’s reply was now the only thing I could await.

What traitorous gods tapped the poison from my mind and forced it down her throat?
I ran to the beach in search of some ship, my heart fluttering in a butterfly’s rate
How can I protect her with only the words that I wrote

I pushed through blackberry brambles that ripped my skin and hair
I wished no more to send her just one more final note
I reached the beach to see my soldier’s ship, but no fanfare

“Exile, come not nearer,” I heard the guard say
For all my troubles, I had thought, fate has hardly been fair
“We will take your letter and leave by close of day”

I saw the ship sail towards the sun, away to my friend who is ill
she will be okay
That’s what I tell myself, but some thoughts I can not ****
companion to The Knight
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