I went in
the water was cool and healing
I saw the moon cry into her reflection,
she tried desperately to pull the tides away.
But foolish me;
I swam out,
practically asking the ocean to drown me,
I loved her cool caress on my skin.
My skin was like a midnight sky
full of stars.
I was lucky.
When I washed up on shore the next morning
I found out I was drunk on salt
the ocean left a desert of it out there.
Before the crows wake
I'd better collect the light
the moon has left me.
Full moons are powerful. But I realized that the moon is always full. We just don't see it that way.
All of us are born.
Some live; others just exist.
We all die; some are.
Part 6 of Her Haiku's
We are all born. Some of us die before the heart stops beating, that is what I tried to capture in the last line.
I am afraid of change -
it's so relative, so hard to prepare for.
I might like it better if it came less frequently,
if it waited just a day more so I could enjoy myself in the thicket of catkins.
Or gave me a notice so that I'd know it would be goodbye.
Spring comes again next year, I know this. But too fast we move on from the mourning of Winter. Slow your sunshine, pull the winds back, give me one last song of sorrow before you forget about her and move on.
Like we always do, always moving on, leaving it in the dust.
Take a breath first so I can at least let it go.
Face them, I'd like to tell her.
They look like shadows but when you touch them,
They turn into fireflies.
I hate it that you only understand something once you've experienced it. I know how it feels to conquer the darkness, but now I'm guiding her from the outside of it, hoping the echos of my voice reach her.
only like my complete demise;
I am solely right.
"Our battles were epic and one-sided." Lol Scout, same.
Part 2 of the Her Haiku's collection.
P.s, anybody know how to italicize text?
Compromise always in my head was like: Calm-promise. Maybe I should call this one that instead and stop having a conversation with myself down here in the grey words. Sorry the cringey poet is out right now. Nobody worry, I'm as just as sane as Luna.
set your own pace
you can do it -
will do it
if you give yourself the right attitude.
how do you think all these flowers survive through late snow?
they shrivel up and begin dying
but don't give in.
and with their perseverance, the sun rewards them.
What am I to do?
Even when I'm not thinking,
I'm thinking of you.
How I literally unintentionally made a haiku.
The destructive daughter
and the delicate one.
The blunt daughter,
and the passive one.
The rageful daughter
and the sad one.
The out burst daughter
and the collapse-in-on-itself one.
The always apologizing daughter
and the always receiving them one.
The destructive daughter
and the delicate one.
destructive - me
delicate - her
she is the moon and I the sun. And every month I leave her and run. That is why she becomes the new moon.
I'm feeling somewhat melancholy,
thinking things that make me so.
It feels like such a gloomy ending,
but when something ends, there is a new beginning.
And beginnings give me hope for what's more.
Goodbye to 2020. I'm hoping this year has better things to come. I'll miss what can't come along with me.
I've never been drunk
on alcohol before.
But I have been drunk.
plastic bags hang beneath my tired eyes
but i got up this morning and i did it.
and i did it yesterday and i will do it tomorrow, and the next day too.
and i will keep on going even if the bags get darker and longer
and i want another five minutes of darkness and comfort.
i will not stop for nothing
and then one day i will wake up and i will have no purple eyes
because i am used to early mornings
and i won't want to sleep in
because i need the sunshine
and i will look back and be proud,
even if i skipped some days or slept in.
Because I did it. I did it. No one did this for me.
And trust me, everyone.
I promise that you can do it too.
you can do anything, even if your world is catching fire,
be the phoenix and renew from the ashes.
have a little hope and you will get there.
Kindness is so simple.
But simplicity is so forgotten.
It's a pity that it's so rare.
What did I learn today?
I couldn't tell you.
I am afraid of what the future holds,
though in Time's arms,
I'm just a little girl having nightmares about the next eternity.
I feel like I'm dust to the universe
and other times I am the universe,
all the gravity spinning me around,
stars in some spots,
but utter darkness everywhere else.
I either expand or contract,
******* all the life out if you forget your space suit.
Why should a little girl have troubles such as these,
I never wonder.
why am I lost in an odyssey of myself?
I am selfish
she is selfless
guess who is deprived
Forget me not,
or if you do,
I promise to
--Can if you
really want to,
if you're through
with nothing to do.
First one published, please be nice :)
one man's freedom fighter is another man's terrorist.
I don't know why but I love this quote. It is the fine line, a description of all humanity, I think. Everyone is different and has different beliefs, so one man's freedom fighter is another man's terrorist.
at least we can acknowledge that now.
She stood next to the mantle
her hair was dark, that's all I noticed.
She said some things to me,
I was afraid.
I dreamt her.
When I woke up she wasn't there,
but when I fell asleep, she was there.
The one she heard when leaving.
Well, pretty little girl,
Go away. Leave us alone. Stay warm elsewhere, please.
Next time I don't want to be forgiving.
I might sound crazy. Whatever.
Do you believe in ghosts?
"hello," I say, greeting her reflection.
In response she smiles at me.
"It's been a while since you've been here."
She says, "it's been a while since I've been free."
today, i dont want to do anything. just stay in the dark living room in my pj's and read some of your poetry.
too bad i also did that yesterday.
this site has so many nice people on it who are so supportive for everyone. love you all
When you protect a child's innocence,
they see the world more purely.
When you are the cause of their guilt,
they are misunderstood.
But children are much less fickle than opinions and rules and adults.
Adults change the world secondly,
children come and sadly go
but they always know
a little thing called
They interpret the world with what they know
and what they know is what you give them.
What they need is a shield, a stuffy, a friend, and an influence.
Save the swords for adolescence.
_not_ what I know
too high and you die
too down and you drown
too carless and you lose
too careful and you choose.
"You're not stressed, just bored."
Maybe. Maybe she is bored,
hence her crying in her room alone,
hence her panic attacks hiding in the closet,
hence her tired eyes glimmering with tears,
She is probably just bored.
How can you say that, how can you say that without caring if you break her self esteem, without regret fracturing your heart? How can you say that when you feel the heaviness of her chest as she enters the room, sitting there against the chair with her pale complexion and that look of defeat in her eyes? What kind of person thinks that boredom can destroy a little girl like that?
She is not bored, I promise you.
It is much worse.
She is breaking.
And you just added a crack to her spine,
dismissing her heart like it was nothing.
She is not nothing. She is my everything, but she thinks that she is nothing because you said that she was bored and that the monster in her chest, feeding on her blood supply was a butterfly instead.
How can you say that?
I told her not to stuff her mushrooms up the chimney.
Not to brew any potions.
Here I am, stuffing my chimney and downing elixirs.
Elixirs that aren't even mine.
I love the water,
though I swim in murky tides.
Treading through the weeds.
Yes, another haiku. Part 7
I've been consciously pretending. For me, for them, for her. I was so happy and then it hit me like a murky tide. And yet I'm still pretending and it hurts to now.
I'll be in love when I can dance in front of them as if I was alone.
I'd rather not go to sleep
or find my pants and shirt,
and just suffer in the morning.
I'd rather not organize my papers,
charge my laptop,
clean up my crayons.
I'll do it tomorrow instead.
I'd rather not think or feel
or remember how much I miss you.
I do it all the time.
You appear so frail and delicate,
but beneath your pretty petals are your thorns.
For my sis; she is a delicate flower who forgets that she has thorns too. Sometimes it's better not to give yourself away just to make others bleed though, and I forget that sometimes.
you are born with some innocence
and you lose it.
someday in your eighty's, maybe,
or early on too.
how you lose it is a different lesson
and to be honest I'm not entirely sure how.
but children often have some,
so don't take it.
innocence is a candle wick,
deminitioning by the moment.
hold off on lighting their candle.
"I would've," she said.
"- but they were busy with someone else."
Drowning in six feet of water
isn't better than drowning in twenty feet of water.
Your troubles aren't invalid.
Call for a lifeguard and they'll come and help you to shore.
there is no room
on the moon
when you're floundering
there is no reason
for the season
for your treason.
there is no way
I'm in love
when you cry.
i hate that you hurt though dear
Such a naïve little thing.
She knows not what she wants,
but she enjoys the butterflies of Spring.
Perhaps when she grows up,
she'll find out how they go into
young and naïve/ignorance is bliss/magic in childhood
I've never known you,
but I've passed you many times.
I envy how easy you make it seem.
I wish you'd notice me.
I really don't know what I'm doing anymore.
Is it unfair that I kept such a thing?
I should've warned you about how aggressive the waves are;
and reminded you that the morning after is a sea of flat waters.
I want to drink the moon
She has never given off such essence of purity.
Intoxicate me, won't you?
The night was stagnant as always.
I like the moon and her somehow lonely company.
I think myself tall
compared to all below me.
I've never looked up.
- I in Latin is ego -
Part 1 of my haiku collection.
a little revelation.
where did my mind go when i left my heart in the car?
i let my mind wander a little too far.
where were my good intentions, i forgot them at home.
leaving my pride and my bad ones alone.
it got to my mind, and when it came back
my heart found the remnants and then it turned black;
but sense came along and pulled them off their throne,
and brought them back to my good intentions at home.
I forgot about love and only liked the white noise for a while.
I used to be happy
Ignore the heavy things.
Tread and tread and pretend that nothing was below me.
But there are things that lurk.
Monsters and darkness.
While I sank, I sung out about how well I could swim.
And then she was sinking
And I learned how to swim
But I never taught her.
Just keep swimming
I tell her.
soon enough the mermaids will scare them away
I hope she believes me.
I hope she is strong enough to withstand the wretched currents.
I love you. I hope that is enough.
Please keep swimming because soon enough the mermaids WILL come.
I love you.
I would do a thousand things for you.
I would do anything for you.
And it hurts to love you because if something happened to you then what would I do?
What a selfish girl I am.
But it's true.
What would I do
if I didn't have you?
Love you, sis
in a silent house
i hear her crying,
and the dead ladybugs flying.
I don't even know anymore.
I had this dream, it was peaceful
and when I woke up I knew it was just a dream.
But now that I think about it, it scares me.
what if it takes her?
True freedom is letting go.
not forgetting, not losing meaning. just letting go
our lesson today will be on patience.
she is like fire when you try and touch her
but once you have some
it burns for a while.
forgot about patience today. sorry, ma fleur
We don't share the same smile
but I smile when you do.
I'm set on forever...
forever with you.
Your eyes give me butterflies
*** and him.
In a bag. In a memory.
in a long while ago.
all but plain
the pretty rain.
Her hair is stained
with pretty rain;
atop the pane.
My sweet September,
do you remember
the pretty rain,
the dying embers?
The stories read
the funny rhymes
you always said.
where did you go?
I'll greet you when you come.
you didn't know
it is the pretty rain you're from.
Je ne sais pas si c'est bon ou pas ... faites-le-moi savoir!
With your pencil
Be the knight.
Could be decent or terrible. Je ne sais pas.
When you sing,
the wind responds
against my shoulders;
a lasting ring.
coming from the empty surface
of the Ocean.
A voice, capturing a soul
too weak to resist such melancholy.
She has desolation hidden in the hollow harmony:
the broken spell has me wanting it more.
I take a step into mellow waters,
salt sticking to my skin,
burning my eyes,
fulfilling her command.
Soon the Ocean's at my neck,
lingering above my parted lips.
wait for her song to call once more.
The water floods in.
I am suffocating,
but I want to.
It's such a peaceful thing,
watching the sky disappear above you.
I was sinking to the bottom
of a hungry abyss.
Inspired by The Siren, a novella by Kiera Cass.