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Autumn Whipple Apr 2015
I write poems about love.
its the truth
look at my profile
usually its sad
angry
that he wont give me the time of day
that he wants our relationship to always stay
as friends
but the other day
a man confessed
and told me he loved me
and I shied away
unacknowledged
I was upset he put me
in
such an awkward position
but thinking back on the forward
confession
I must admit
my misconception
that I did the same thing
to get
over another
so maybe this boy
is just trying to get over me
but I cant forget it
I see it now
in every intonation
every stare
every touch
and it makes me uncomfortable
to be loved that much
because
I
cant
feel
the
same
ugh
( Sonnet )*

I once caught you naked by the sea,
No one noticed, such noble shyness,
Invited to worlds, aloof as sun breeze,
Of purple sands, heathered highness.

In novae of your eyes was shipwreck,
Forlorn beacon chiding the weary lost
Of new worlds lumbered on the decks,
Seabirds caroled up wing, heavens' loft.

Skin, fleshy of netted eel, salt and foam,
Was hide for a brigand, lubbers sessions,
Sheered by sheen, blinding sky of gloam,
Stars runged on their draped processions.

My seal, now fate, cloak within jubilance;
Coral sea wave, slips under moon dance.
In Celtic myth, if a man steals a female selkie's skin she is in his power and is forced to become his wife.  Female selkies are said to make excellent wives, but because their true home is the sea, they will often be seen gazing longingly at the ocean.  Sometimes, a selkie maiden is taken as a wife by a human man and she has several children by him.

Selkies (also spelled silkies, selchies; Irish/Scottish Gaelic: selchidh, Scots: selkie fowk) are mythological creatures found in Scottish, Irish, and Faroese folklore.  Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The legend is apparently most common in Orkney and Shetland and is very similar to those of swan maidens.
Autumn Whipple Apr 2015
when I was younger
I told only lies
I told myself if
I said something
that made it true
as If the words I etched
would morph my future, my past
into something I could
revel in, wait for

I told myself that
my mother was young
she was beautiful, ardent, honest
that making  bonds in a temporary family
was futile, useless
that she would be there

I never really thought about my father
I told myself that he didn't matter
somehow, the imagined bond
between me and my mother
took up most of my energy
but the spun sugar web
of half truths and full lies
grew more bitter as
I did

I refused
to see the acrid truth
my mother doesn't, couldn't love me
she's never met me
and apparently, she thought naming
the man who sired me
didn't matter either

my mothers mistakes run
bolting my blood in reality
enforced in my head
through constant warnings
of pregnancy, drug addiction
as if I will ever make her mistakes
no.
I'll make my own

I've built myself a palace of lies
and as I step past the threshold
I wonder, even as I wander forwards
if my new truth
is made out of the same material
I wonder if this new truth
is a lie disguised as forgiveness

Because maybe I've just moved rooms
and there's a ceiling of clear lies
holding me in
as I think I've found freedom
Autumn Whipple Apr 2015
THE EARTH WAS STILL
AS IT SWIRLED AROUND ME
A HAZE OF ASH AND DREAMS
A BURN VICTIM OF AN UNREALIZED FANTASY
SCREAMING IN TWISTED EXCSTASY
AS MY FACES MELTED AND PETRIFIED
FROZEN FOR A LIFE ALIEN RECTIFIED
WITH A SHARP OBSIDIAN *****
TO DELIVER ME REMADE

HE SCRAWLED AND CLAWED HIS WAY TO ME
HIS WORLD ENTIRE, AS THOUGH I COULD SEE
MY LOVER ONCE DELAYED
BY GRIEF AND ASHES, A MISTAKEN AIDE
OF THE LOST GODSPOKE MEN

HE TOLD THEM TO LEAVE HIM DIRE
THAT HIS PASSION WOULD CARRY HIM THROUGH MUCK AND MIRE
FIERY INTO THE REALM ABANDONED CRIES
WRAPPED IN THE DUSTY ORGANZA LIES
HE SEEMED LIKE AN EYELESS CREATURE
BLUNDERING HIS WAY, A BLIND BEESHECHER  
SEARCHING FOR LOVE WHERE THERE WAS ONLY
A MAELSTROM OF LONGING

REBORN IN HIS GRAVE OF PROPHETS AND GRIEF
A SOLDIER SENT ONCE TO TEACH
THE FIRE SCORCHING AND TWISTING MY SHROUD
AS HIS WORLD WENT TUMBLING, BROKEN AND PROUD

TORN IN HIS WAKE OF GRACE
AND WHEN MY BODY HE FOUND ENCASED
IN GLASS, AS THOUGH A TRUE LOVE AWAITS
BUT WHAT HE COULD NOT ENKINDLE IN HIS HEART
WAS WHAT WOULD RIP THE GLASS APART
LOST IN OBSIDIAN IN ASH AND GLASS
A SHALLOW PRISON
OF LOSING AND LOVE AND
THE SPACE BETWEEN US
this was a poem I wrote, inspired by the book the road by Cormac McCarthy
Autumn Whipple Apr 2015
I shiver
a wind could bowl me over
I shake
with anger and mistakes
I tremor
As you return me to sender
I quake
Waiting for you to forsake
A tremor
Some how just a crack
The size of st. Andreas
Ugh the anger
Autumn Whipple Apr 2015
they tell me I'm made of dust
as though a slight gust
could ******* apart
As if the beating wasn't just my heart
but a maze of particles
infusing every article
dead and blown away

they tell me ill return to ashes
like i was made of ashes in the first place
like instead of thoughts it was just space
that your hand on my heart wasn't what kept it apace
but just science in the ashes
in the dust
feeling sentimental, its rainy, sue me
Autumn Whipple Mar 2015
you chuckle and say
your welcome
when i thank you for holding open the door
you blush and say
thank you
as i ask you
if you could play me more
you shuffle and  question
if i want to go see a movie
you grin and say
for you anything
when i ask you to accompany
me on the violin
you grimace and say
of course not
when i ask you if you're angry
you smile and say
i love you
and i smile
and tell you
that your smile
is why I fell
for you
dang
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