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Nov 2019 · 115
My heart is heavy
Hannah Christina Nov 2019
My heart is heavy.
A little bit heavy.
Not like lead
or rocks
or ice.

It is one too many blankets, starting to sweat;
overthink socks, starting to itch;
cold caramels refusing to soften. It is

one too many blankets and
just a little bit comforting.
Hannah Christina Nov 2019
Sea of rubber, storm of rock
Ponder endless, mudslide thoughts
Never,
      never,
           never        
stops
    Until I
cannot see

Batter, torment, carry, pour
Solid things are shifting shores
    Until
I cannot hear

Sighs are monsters, out from under
Mud is made of every mutter
Thunder fades into more thunder
    Avalanche demands

All of what you thought was peace
deserts to deserts underseas
the grains of sand
climb past  your knees

    and now i cannot think

I used to hide from walls of rock
  or shrink into a corner;
    
    at least
cement
    is solid set
I forgot about this one and completely re-wrote it today and I had the best time playing with the structure and sounds.
Aug 2019 · 149
be brave
Hannah Christina Aug 2019
courage is not what they think it is.

courage is desperate and shrieking and shattered in one thousand places,

the final threads that should have snapped long ago.
Aug 2019 · 147
maybe
Hannah Christina Aug 2019
Maybe

i'm not as dead
or tired
or old
or boring

as i thought i was.

No, i'm not as dead as i thought.
A simple poem.
Jul 2019 · 296
drifting
Hannah Christina Jul 2019
driftwood on the surf
the quaking of a feather
my unstable heart
haiku
Jul 2019 · 182
Just Once
Hannah Christina Jul 2019
A torch.

My torch.

The yellow and orange dance in my eyes and on the gleaming rocks, water droplets phasing in and out of existence as they slowly shape the cave, as they have over centuries.  I feel my smirk broaden into a full-on grin.

Just once.

My fingers stroke gingerly, in respect for the centuries and lives these walls have claimed.  My heart ****** at every imperfection.  Every crevasse could be a clue.  But every one isn't.

Just one.

I pull back the curtain of moss, ducking and picking out a treacherous path.  Another curtain blocks my view, a veil of spiderwebs.  I flick them away with the tip of my saber.

Or cutlass.

Or spear.

Or even a vaguely cool-looking stick, I don't really care about that part so much.  Forget the treasure and even the clues.  No secret codes or Nazis are necessary.  I don't even need a cool jacket.  All I really want to do is carry a torch though a cave.  Just once.

It doesn't necessarily have to be a cave, either.  I'm flexible.  Abandoned mine shafts, secret tunnels, castle dungeons.  It all works.

But the torch is a non-negotiable.  A real, live, wooden torch.  Not what the Brits call flashlights, a torch-torch.  With fire, please.

please.

Just once.
Someone give me an attainable career path before I hang it all and go steal the Declaration of Independence.
Jun 2019 · 209
Content
Hannah Christina Jun 2019
I'm tired of halfway-grasping, nearly clasping greatness whole.
And yet I know though incomplete I still enjoy life full.
Jun 2019 · 157
Ballroom
Hannah Christina Jun 2019
It's like I dance with each of you, but only pantomime
You answer back my sentences, but in familiar rhyme.

My hands will follow yours around, but never really touch.
A slice of air will keep us safe, or else a silken glove.

From time to time, our fingers brush, I'll even hold your hands
Discussions of those moments sweet are whispered, maybe banned.

My chest, it yearns, my heart so turns
within me; hollow, sore.
And yet the fear so claims me I may never ask for more.
Interpretations and feedback are appreciated!  Thank you for reading.
Mar 2019 · 1.6k
The Diving Board
Hannah Christina Mar 2019
Cold wet toes hug the sandpaper edge
of the Tall Diving Board, a most terrible ledge
But the plastic and rusted beams buckle and creak
Along with your knees-- they are feeling quite weak.

Everything's swaying, the pool and the sky
Your hands both are shaking and you wonder why
You thought you could jump.  It all seems so silly
You thought you were brave, but up here, you know really

You're just like they said you would be.

You lift you foot trying to face off this dread
right over the edge of the board, but instead
of stepping off, you move backwards.  And then
your other foot follows it downwards again.

Inching back, and hanging your head from the shame,
your feet grip the grooves on the steps just the same

as the last time you thought you were brave.

Then you freeze, and you frown.  All the kids gathered on the ground
could not stop you with mocking from coming back down

But your mom, shouting out from the shade of the sides
speaks to you louder than fear or than pride
"You can do it, I know!"  and you manage a frown
and a stubborn resolve not to walk to the ground

but to swim!  And you struggle back up to the top
the gritty board scraping, the phrase "belly flop!"
taunting you from the children below; and your brow
is furrowed, your teeth clench--the moment is now!

A sniffle, slight stumble, the bending of knees,
You know you can show them--don't belly flop, please!
and you push, one last time-- any time you could stop
at the edge once again, at the diving board top

But you don't!



And it's over.  
A splash is your prize
your ears ring, your nose stings,

But you jumped off the diving board.

And now you can do it again.
Mar 2019 · 202
Weight
Hannah Christina Mar 2019
That weight in my head
like honey in a jar
Dripping pain against insides of my skull on whichever side I roll
It's heavy, but floating
like black and sluggish cloud
Dripping, dizzy
Caused by dehydration, maybe stress,
or else the tears I never cried are staring to solidify.
I had a headache.  It's better now.
Feb 2019 · 508
Praise Be
Hannah Christina Feb 2019
"Praise be,"
I whisper with unclean lips
The blood and tears held barely back
"Oh, save,"
I plead, with nothing but dust to give
Jan 2019 · 143
Why Do I Forget You
Hannah Christina Jan 2019
How
how could I forget
how could I forget you?
How?

Why did I allow
lies to overwhelm truth
Where?

did my life go wrong
now my conscience seems dead
Now

now I need to backtrack
where these words were last said

Why?
does it happen
over and
Over
Dec 2018 · 766
Innocent Eyes
Hannah Christina Dec 2018
I beg that her innocent eyes do not conceal the same pain that lurks within my own.
She is life and she is beauty
Joy
Love
Please let me believe only that.
Please,
She shows from her heart kindness, pure.
Happy hope.

That is what they say about me.
That I know only hope and joy.
That innocence is my clothing
But they do not see the pain in my infected heart
And I did not see it in her.

Oh, do not let it be.

She truly is kindness and hope and...

So am I.
The light is real, only tired
And hurt.
It shines through the cracks in our hearts, all divided.
It shines through dullness and sin

But as I halfway expose my shame, I see her do the same.
In throwaway lines wry admissions.
A casual mention dulls the pain
I see her do the same.

I wish we could be pure
All the way honest, even in our blackness
And let our pain and goodness show alike in truth, rather than letting the infection spread.

Please don't conform to the mass of us hurting and hiding it.
Bleed in your open way
Outside
And let the stain be washed away
And stand wide awake and clean
With innocent eyes
Dec 2018 · 817
Detached
Hannah Christina Dec 2018
Pacing
Floating
Detached
Bouncing off of walls
Turning cartwheels and then passing through the wall
Nothing to grasp but the anchor I ignore

Distracted wanderings
Bringing me nothing.
Why don't I land,
Why can't I stop?
Nov 2018 · 561
clean
Hannah Christina Nov 2018
clean

so very clean



thank you.
Nov 2018 · 547
sky- haiku
Hannah Christina Nov 2018
sky of deepest blue
ethereal starlight dim
wind is soft and cold
trying out lowercase to keep things simple and clean
Hannah Christina Nov 2018
I bought myself a kite to fly
I ran through sunny fields
And tried to urge it to the sky
But it skipped at my heels

I leaped and danced for childish years
It never left the ground
I noticed through my childish tears
What's left of it was brown

It was torn in the mud, so it was mangled, it was done
And thus concludes the tragedy of the kite I numbered one.

My second kite was stronger, though.
It caught a mighty gale
my heart flew with it in the yellow
Rainbow sky it sailed

I smiled.  My kite, it seemed to me,
Would always stay as mine
But the sting slipped and I lost my grip
I lost it to the sky

It joined with bubbles and balloons, whatever else is there
In the *****, lonely cloudland in the out-of-picture air.

I still had hope and so I bought
My final silken bird
I told myself that I would soon
Unleash it to the word.

I planned that on a weekend soon  
I’d make it to the field.
The colors all would show again
Just once my schedule cleared

The kite's debut date got pushed back and further back until
It found a final resting place untested in its skill.

I bought myself three kites to fly
The first two meet ill fates
The third one has a dusty shelf
Where it keeps very safe.
I decided we could use some more buildup here, so I added a few more stanzas.
Nov 2018 · 120
Yelling
Hannah Christina Nov 2018
nothing about this is true and I know it
A lurking suspicion it's too late to show it
I'm aching and cowering I'm shriveled below it
It's pushing so hard that my brain may implode it's

Time to separate out and address the beast directly
Liars yelling pounding orders trying to direct me
Take a breath to yell back but they've stolen it already
They're coming through the mouthpiece in my head I say instead we

Breathe.  
Don't try to speak
Need oxygen
just breathe
For now
Sep 2018 · 2.1k
Dancing out of step
Hannah Christina Sep 2018
There's
a
rhythm inside me that I want  craft fire to
But I never can keep up with the ticking clock

There's

a
wall that obstructs my view I want to see higher yet
What if I climb until I find out I don't like what's at the top?

One day I'll step out of line and ignore the warden who drags me back
I'll climb the tree next to the wall and dance along the top
But for now each day pulls me in a struggle unyielding
It would be a dance if my mind could process all that keeps proceeding

If I could pause it for a beat perhaps I could find my feet
But the game gets faster while I just get more confused.

I suppose I'll get used to it.  Will it always be this way?
and does it feel the same somehow to everybody else?
I want to dance perfectly
impeccably,
beautifully
in a way that's new and full of life and my own very soul

but head down I keep dozing to miss out on the pain and I shut my eyes
Squint over the wall's holes.
Thank you sincerely for reading.

Oh, and I think I'll mention that the idiosyncrasies in rhythm and rhyming scheme were intentional.
Sep 2018 · 9.5k
Tales of Three Kites
Hannah Christina Sep 2018
I bought myself a kite to fly
I tossed it up and ran around
I tried to pull it through the sky
But found it just dragged on the ground.

It landed in the mud, it was mangled, it was done
And thus concludes the tragic tale of the kite I numbered one.

My second kite was different.
It caught a mighty gale
I flew it well, then let it go
And in the end I failed.

It joined released balloons and leaves, whatever else is there
In the *****, lonely cloudland in the out-of-picture air.

I still had hope and so I bought
My final silken bird
I told myself that I would soon
Unleash it to the word.

The kite's debut date got pushed back and further back until
It found a final resting place untested in its skill.

I bought myself three kites to fly
The first two meet ill fates
The third one has a dusty shelf
Where it keeps very safe.
Of dreams and men.

I'll probably change the title and maybe edit more, we'll see.  This was honestly in my drafts for like over two months.  I wanted to finally publish it.
Aug 2018 · 1.0k
Resonate
Hannah Christina Aug 2018
I catch glimpses and pieces of a story I need to be a part of
A word or an image will hit
a particular spot in my heart
and strangely resound
Ideas skip through my head that suddenly click.
I come alive
I bolt upright
"Yes!"
but then it is gone.  Upon closer examination,
nothing was there.
I don't even know what brought me to this train of thought in the first place.
A second ago it felt very important.

I shake myself off and try to fall back asleep.
A new existential crisis reveals itself to me every few days, and a new astonishing wonderful revelation about every month or two.  And half of a mystery solved lights up each night, but dissipates when I get close enough to study it.
Aug 2018 · 195
The Third Left
Hannah Christina Aug 2018
I am driving back home
my motions automatic
against my will
returning dutifully
to face my life again.

I am doing the right thing, the good thing, the necessary thing.
The obvious, singular choice.

My thoughts of flight are absurd and cowardly, a fantasy created
because my energy is dying,
as is my passion
and even my
love.

...love.
how?? why?? could I let my love grow so stale

In my arrogance I equate flying into the unknown darkness
of lonely back roads
with idealism
denying that my fantasy is born of
pure selfishness.

I am an idle watchman, a soldier idly contemplating desertion before even reaching real conflict.

I am still on the right route, turning stiffly left
now facing fully towards home.
Doing all the right things
on autopilot and
cursing
every
second.
Sequel to "The Second Left."
Aug 2018 · 2.4k
Searching for Passion
Hannah Christina Aug 2018
There's a reason why I'm doing this
Somewhere, somehow
I set off with a passion and a purpose
That seems so long ago.
I decided it was worth it, not to wither into a selfish nothing
To surge on, keep on grappling
but I've almost had enough
and I'm
just
so
tired
.
When will I find the spark again?
I have some faith that
an ember of the passion I lost
still exists
somewhere between my lungs and beneath my ribs
Can my faith be ever enough?
May I find out.
I found out they the name of the place the heart is located is a " thoracic compartment called the mediastinum" but decided using that phrase would have been a bit much to use here.

Maybe another day.
Aug 2018 · 280
The Second Left
Hannah Christina Aug 2018
Now I take the long way home most nights
a few extra minutes for back roads and quiet
the first turn faces me directly away from home
and in the darkness I cruise straight down a beautiful road to nowhere
off
and
away
and I am a free, flying runaway
for only a minute
before dutifully turning left.
at that intersection
my eyes always linger straight ahead, on my road to nowhere and anywhere
I could stay on this path and not look back
leaving everything
to be alone

But already I have involuntarily pulled into the turn lane.
My blinker is on, and so there is no way out of it.
I will go back home like I should.  
What
was I thinking?
My home is nice.  My life is good.  
There
is nothing
to run away from.
but maybe...
is there something is worth running to?
Aug 2018 · 14.1k
Whirlwind and Graveyard Calm
Hannah Christina Aug 2018
Too much, too fast.
Breathless at a stoplight.
change
fast
must
go
I HAVE NO TIME
everything/everything/today/tomorrow
Always with the rushing, barely feeling, barely knowing where I am.

Now there's nothing.

It's a break, slow and stale.
What do I do?
There are four or five things maybe but none feel right and I can't bring myself to move.
I try one thing,
then another.
No drive,
meaning,
purpose,
feeling.
Not even my eyes can focus on anything.
Skipping, blinking, nothing.
Slow.

Give me back the whirlwind, or give me gravelike nothing.
Nothing is right.
I need power to feel and peace to fight or I am already dead.
Please.
I'm trusting You.
Please.
Thanks so much for reading, it means a lot.

Honestly, I'm not feeling much better for the moment.  Things were getting a bit slow this afternoon and the Gravelike paragraph applied for like two hours, but I pulled myself out of it and I'm okay now.  Let's see how long the feeling of well being lasts this time...
Aug 2018 · 947
Contemplations #2: Humans
Hannah Christina Aug 2018
Humans are so stupid.
Arrogant, disgusting, small-minded, selfish, pathetic mortals.



I think I might be one.





That would explain a lot.
Thanks for reading.

Maybe I'll make a series as a way to label my poems in this style?

PS I need advice on titles!  I don't like them.
Hannah Christina Aug 2018
I'm rummaging through my messy-closet mind for the choice bits of delectable emotional pain
The agony that come from being the complex and bitter soul I am

But I'm not finding any

I'm actually fairly happy.
Moderately cheerful.
Not floating on clouds, or manic, or bursting with energy.

Just... pretty good.  Quite alright.

This isn't good for poetry.

Or self pity.

What do I do now?
My life is just SO mildly, boring-ly difficult rn.  My mental stability is driving me crazy!


What did I just say?
Jul 2018 · 394
Surrounded
Hannah Christina Jul 2018
I have a sword, a bow, a knife
A vantage point up high
In front, behind, and at each hand
A different foe draws nigh.

If I could know just what to do,
I think I'd hold them back.
But I've no skill or training
And no plan for attack.

Each villain huddles nearer still
And I don't have a clue
On how to load my mighty bow
Or what a blow would do

I shake and gasp, I can't fight back
my untrained arms are weak
The courage and the strength I lack,
So Your help I now seek.

Refresh my mind, give me a goal
And guide my drying bones.
I need a plan, I need a job.
I can't survive alone.
Jul 2018 · 302
A Series of Feelings No. 2:
Hannah Christina Jul 2018
The uncomfortable triumph that comes from being brave enough to admit that you're scared
I had that moment today, and I was so close to giving in and letting fear make my choice.
Jul 2018 · 2.8k
The Lonely Old Woman's House
Hannah Christina Jul 2018
Magazines, newspapers, letters strewn across
every table.
Flowerpots, paperweights, nick-knacks atop
every remaining empty surface.
"Tacky" was the word that first came to mind.
Ledges, counters, and all but one chair are drowned in the mess.
The last chair is the womans.  She used to keep a few other chairs vacant in case of company, but
as she continued to grow slower she couldn't make the effort

and an extra chair was never needed anyway.
Us teenagers thing we're so edgy and tortured.  All this time, the friendless old ladies been the real heavy souls
Hannah Christina Jul 2018
Sometimes a voice in your head will tell you that you are a disappointment.  Look that thing in the eye and say, "You're a disappointment!"

Then realize that you are still shouting negative things at yourself in the mirror.  Second thought, don't.  Please don't take advice like this from me.
Poetry is ART.
Jul 2018 · 980
Passing
Hannah Christina Jul 2018
why must time progress??
i need to take a rest
each falt'ring sentence brings
me closer to my death
Hannah Christina Jul 2018
Having the sudden urge to hug someone, but restraining yourself because you don't know hour they would react.
Making this series a thing, introducing feelings and defining the by the scenarios they come from.  I'm in between using loquacious dictionary language and putting things simply.
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