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Feb 2018 · 393
losing dragons
Autumn Whipple Feb 2018
I look(ed) in
the clouds
and search(ed) for dragons.

they dance(ed)
and love(ed)
and sang above me.

I laugh(ed) and cry(ied)
all night, and in day
I look(ed) for dragons.

Up, up up
up in the clouds I look(ed)
to where they say(id)
I can find my dragons.

but now I'm old(er0
and sad(der)
and i'm afraid

as I look(ed) up
that I've lost my dragons.
losing youth childhood and some of the wonder
Feb 2018 · 164
bloom
Autumn Whipple Feb 2018
it bubbles and burns
the softness I yearn
leaves its mark inside me

its sweet and its raw
of earth, and claws
and fizzles deep inside me

flowers grow better
sunk in seltzer
poppies bloom inside me

petals caress
like a maid's wedding dress
up my throat, inside me

they say I'm in bloom
so I consume
the soda, now deep inside me.
Feb 2018 · 442
the evil eyes they follow
Autumn Whipple Feb 2018
blue and white
cast upon you
like rice at a wedding
they follow
wanting
lusting
calling
cursing
but how to ward them?
when you ache
and plead
with yourself
your empty bank account,
god
for something you find beautiful
in another
yes, the evil eyes are always watching
because
they are yours.
this was for a prompt where you didn't name the seven deadly sins, so this one can have every adjective but the word envy. I chose the evil eye, because that represents the stain jealousy casts on others.
Nov 2017 · 248
Devastation
Autumn Whipple Nov 2017
Who would you be without words.
Without the innate ability to weild
A sharp and bitter taste
To be left without them
No more music no books no conversation no jokes no movies
You've lost the solace of words
You've lost the shield of language
You're losing it.
Even a dog recognizes it's name.
But soon you won't.
Who what when how
Its all words
Without them
What are you.
Nov 2017 · 466
Aphasia
Autumn Whipple Nov 2017
My words are lost.
I speak
But now I stutter.
I think
But nothing comes out.
My words are gone.
I can't remember what
I used to write.
My words have run.
I am smart
Was smart
But now
Words
Are
Lost.
May 2017 · 292
Coming of age
Autumn Whipple May 2017
Getting older
Doesn't mean I've grown up
My coming of age story
Won't be one that's read in English class.
Is adulthood a dramatic change
Or a series of small steps?
What defines me as a child
An adult
Will others one day examen my life, circle a section, and say,
Yes, this is where she had her coming of age.
I'm an adult but I don't feel like anything's changed in Me.
Apr 2017 · 355
Pink Floyd
Autumn Whipple Apr 2017
I was sitting on the car with my family the other day
Pink Floyd was on the radio
And we were discussing sadness and
Melancholy
When my mother said she didn't like to listen to sad music
I realized
That
Her
Sadness
Is
Just
As
Unique
As
Mine
Mar 2017 · 432
Expensive
Autumn Whipple Mar 2017
Life is
*******
Expensive.
There's phone bills
Water bills
Transit books soap netflix toothpaste food rent
To buy
And it's a lot more
Than I was ever
Prepared for.
**** girl adulting is hard.
Mar 2017 · 610
-i-
Autumn Whipple Mar 2017
-i-
I always thought art had to be hard.
There had to be some deep inner struggle, some magical spiritual resonance
That gave art meaning

I thought love was about pomp and circumstance
That it had to be verbose, brash
I pined and flirted and thought I knew love
I knew nothing

I haven't changed much
I am a different shape but the same shade
I've found art in puddles, and love in myself
But I'm still learning
I'm sure I'll still write poetry
That's pompous and shallow
But now I'll know a little but more
About the pieces of myself

And maybe one day I'll figure out who I will be.
May 2016 · 1.2k
Money
Autumn Whipple May 2016
I walk past the poor every day
The ones that ask me for money
For the change
That I hear jangling in my ears long after I walk away
Money comes to me like a slip of paper
A white page
Stateing times and dates and hours spent
In the pursuit of happiness
Because that's how I feel when I get my wage
Like the hours I spent didn’t just waste away.
The jingle of my work, my age
Is what I pour into that man’s cup
It might be fifty cents
But it’s really six minutes
It might be six minutes
But it’s part of what I earned with my time.
Money is a sense of safety
A paper cushion
In my back pocket
That protects me from them.
A buffer of light green
Silver, copper, gold
That speaks of books
And travel
And new worlds
So I pour my dreams into that man's cup.
Maybe I can share my dream with him
Maybe the money
Will help him
In a way that it helps me
Maybe he will feel safer, warmer,  happier
With my hopes jangling in his pocket.
It may be fifty cents.
But it was still money
My money
That isn’t gaining me anything
Except a lightness in my pocket
And a quiet evaluation of where it can take me.
Money controls me
Just as much as I control it.
As I tip the coins
As they fall
I can hear them
They keep me going for another six minutes, then another six, then another.
That fifty cents,
Screams at me
Power, effort, time.
I want to think that money is good
That the people who get it are
But I see how I spend
How he spends
How she spends
And I think that the dreams that money whispers are for adults
And maybe I have to truly be an adult to know
That it’s not what my money does to me, but what I do
To those without.
My coins get caressed in his hands
***** in a  way
That’s so  different than mine
God bless
He whispers, and I think of the coins
That have that
Exact
phrase stamped on them.
Money should be used in Thomas Jefferson’s say:
To promote happiness in a responsible way
Because the tail of the devil must be dipped in the stuff
The economics of everyday making decisions tough
I can feel the relief it gives me to part with the money
But I calculate the loss
The casual toss
Of the money,
The money
That represents so much
Good
And so much hope.
this was a poem i had to write for AP econ
May 2016 · 1.0k
The future
Autumn Whipple May 2016
Release me from the present
so i can jump
full stop
into the future
even if it scares me
at least
it's better than this
unbalanced
equilibrium
Mar 2016 · 760
blood and gunpowder
Autumn Whipple Mar 2016
Once upon a time
Lived a boy drenched in reason and rhyme
He culled the fields
A plow he yields
With a smile as soft as soil

But he heard the call to better things
away to rocks and stones that sing
Buried down in dirt and dust
Yields a bite of metal's rust
A smile as sharp as flint

The hand of death touched his soil
But through that barrage he twisted and toiled
But as he pleaded an escape from the grip of black
He knew that it would pull him back
And a set as solid as stone

Back to farm and yield he traveled
To see he life had unraveled
His green fields of corn and roan
Was all dark, and filled with stone
The green boy shadow stained

The boy had twisted and shouted
That the shadow of death should let him out
But in his haste to escape
He forgot the trace of blood and the deeper scrape
That was gunpowder and blood

He forgot to ask
He forgot the tasks
That had given him a soil smile
And in that lost guile
He forgot to ask the hand that gripped him
To wash itself of the shadow
Of blood and gunpowder
I was reading a war novel. Sue Me.
Nov 2015 · 339
discussions in Literature
Autumn Whipple Nov 2015
we talked once
through stalks of paper
book of trees
we glimpsed
pieces of hands
souls, eyes
as the books wavered and shook
in the still earthquake
of paper between us
Oct 2015 · 2.6k
plan B... or C
Autumn Whipple Oct 2015
the mighty plan
the
A
might've been a dud
but i see an ace in
plan B!
OK, it didn't work either
but i think a lot
could be said
for
little
old
C!
i love this for no reason. I feel like Team Rocket!
Oct 2015 · 723
The mirror
Autumn Whipple Oct 2015
i sat in the mirror
watched you all day
say the way the silver called for you to stay
to stare deep into those empty eyes
and waste away
as my narcissist
dead lover you'll stay
leaning down to the waters in quay
to press a kiss on my brow
even knowing i'll soon fade away
i love the story of echo and narcissus. what a basic, basic boy
Oct 2015 · 695
Dreams of You
Autumn Whipple Oct 2015
i dreamed of a blanket
a park
sunlight dappled your face.
i dreamed of me and you
sharing the same space.
i dreamed of leaning in
a sweet second kiss
and laughing and turning
to the children i'd wished
i dreamed of touching the stubble
the glasses
and say
i love you
i love.. you
but i  woke up
and the dream faded away
uuggh im sorry back to love poetry
Oct 2015 · 364
asking
Autumn Whipple Oct 2015
sometimes asking is the hardest part
the shimmery tremors almost art
opening my mouth with no sound but silence
an act in itself of straight defiance
sometimes asking's the hardest part
as my wondering comes straight from the heart
god this is bad. please dont hate me
Sep 2015 · 2.8k
Ophelia's Lament
Autumn Whipple Sep 2015
i feel the water pulling me down
drowning drowning in the lack of sound
i can see the moonlight shimmer
reflecting the weight of his voice’s timbre
i smile the water gushing between my teeth
never again will  i have to hear him speak
I see the halls and the turrets of the father
finding me finding me other places to wander
i see him talking to a crown of stone
the teeth eyes and lips mine alone
Pulling me down in the lack of sound
as in my love i start to drown
i love hamlet. and ophelia is the saddest character to me
Jun 2015 · 954
feelings I hide from
Autumn Whipple Jun 2015
Anger doesn't come
          naturally
Sadness doesn't linger
         long
Fear fades
         with each passing day
As I hollow out
    the poisonous pieces
leaving a empty shell  of happiness
ugh nor good I apologize
Jun 2015 · 1.2k
A Series of Beginnings
Autumn Whipple Jun 2015
In my younger
and more vulnerable years
I
                  walked
                   on
I was lonely
        no longer
I was a guide
            a pathfinder
I had that familiar
                  conviction
                         that life
was beginning over
promising to unfold
that shining secret
that only
Midas
               and Morgan
                              and Maecenas knew,
that the wingless
had been overlooked
in a fashion
that rather
             took
                         your
                                  breath
                                            away.
I was fragilely bound into
a murmured apology
of moths
among
            the whispers
                                  and the champagne
                               and the stars
Bantering inconsequence
that was made of
infinitesimal
               hesitation
I repeated blankly
a surprising
shill metallic urgency
Bloomed with light
it sort of crept in on us
that I
               had truly
heard nothing at all
In the unquiet darkness
continually smoldering
with disappointment
in the solemn echoing
green light.
a dim hazy cast
lay upon my love
your love
     belongs
             to me
                 She insisted
its too late now
           he scowled
I could only stare
as
she cried
            A terrible
                        terrible
                                   Mistake!
you ask too much
she told me
I love you now.
you cant repeat the past
he said
why,
     of
            course
                        you can!
I paid a
high price
for living too long
with a
                   single
                              dream.
great Gatsby found poem I wrote in class. I got an a on it, but I need some improvement suggestions.
May 2015 · 1.2k
dying young
Autumn Whipple May 2015
i never think of death
well no, that's a lie
i do
but i think of small deaths
not sickness, not tragedy
like, breaking my neck or not watching my step
but if only the good die young
ill be around for a long  while yet
stuart sutcliffe... the feels are so strong
Apr 2015 · 1.1k
im a hypocrite
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
Apr 2015 · 376
A Liar's pocket
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
Apr 2015 · 727
LOST
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
Apr 2015 · 400
trembling
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
Apr 2015 · 2.3k
ashes to ashes
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
Mar 2015 · 971
you smile and say...
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
Mar 2015 · 2.7k
the pit of my stomach
Autumn Whipple Mar 2015
do you know the feeling
the twisted tremors
the slippery shivers
that linger in the
pit of your stomach
the feeling that something is wrong
the feeling that you
are left out
messed up
wrong
when you did nothing
and it seems that maybe
if given the chance
you could've done something
been somewhere
accomplished something
but the feeling in the pit of your stomach
only serves to remind you
of time wasted
i have this feeling right now... not my best poem but eh.
Mar 2015 · 5.7k
its the small things
Autumn Whipple Mar 2015
its the small things that
entice me to you
the way your glasses
kiss your cheekbones
the way you blush
when I cant
contain my stare
the way
your
voice is deeper than the pacific
and you are
as tall
as the leaning tower
I love how you
are scared of spiders
because I am too
I love that bone that gently emerges
when you
play violin
first chair
but that bone
entices me
almost as much as your smile
because you
fill the sum of your parts
with music
ahhh fangirl
Mar 2015 · 2.0k
hot!
Autumn Whipple Mar 2015
eating hot food
is like a little
challenge
to swallow
before it burns your mouth
before the food wins
the struggle to avoid
my stomach
chew fast, mouth a bit open
******* air in and out
on short pants
but I win
GULP
down it goes
I can feel its warmth smoldering
in my belly
haha!I am victorious over the pizza roll!
Mar 2015 · 794
nosy and annoying
Autumn Whipple Mar 2015
sometimes
its so easy to be manic
around you
to be nosy
and
annoying
but I thought that
maybe you saw
it as normal
like maybe it was obvious
in the way I look at you
that you are all I ever think about
that other boys
are just distractions
from you
but when prodded
you call me nosy and annoying
I never thought
I never dreamed
that all those hours we spent together
were a chore for you
all those messages we exchanged were
just
trying
to get me to leave you alone
I thought i'd be broken
be sad
lonely
a mess
when you rejected me with a
'lets be friends'
but now its worse
because
we were never friends
in
the first place
yah. Jesus Christ my heart is a mess
Mar 2015 · 897
words between friends
Autumn Whipple Mar 2015
I often wonder
why
certain things seem funny
giggling in class
stupid  
juvenile jokes
scrawled across wrinkled
scraps of paper
some is offensive
i'm shocked I wrote it in review
some is raunchy
I wonder if something passed between me and you
but mostly I think it was just the thrill
because it was between you and me
wasting our days
scribbling away on torn
pieces of paper
and its even worse when my mom finds them and goes through them. like today for instance. ahhh, privacy you holy grail, discover your loyal believer that maybe you exist somewhere
Mar 2015 · 1.4k
the lady who drives the bus
Autumn Whipple Mar 2015
there is a woman
who drives
the bus I take to school in the morning
I always wonder, more often than not
why she works on a bus
it must be tedious and boring
running the same route over and over again
dealing with girls like me
who
more often than not
forgot their money
she is pretty, young
wears expensive sunglasses
but she drives the high school bus
full of loud, rude kids
instead of something
she would find more
appealing.
but maybe she likes the repetition, the change
the power of driving us each day
maybe she relishes our little lives
in her hands
which grip the steering wheel
as she navigates the streets
maybe she enjoys the challenge
of wide turns and
negotiating her way through the streets like
an overweight pedestrian
on a busy sidewalk
she boggles me. but she lets me on when I forget my money, so im not complaining
Mar 2015 · 575
I told you
Autumn Whipple Mar 2015
I told you today
in a round about way
that I loved you
I spilt secrets and feelings on that blessed white page
hoping it had been sage
to admit in finality that I love you
now I await
for your response post haste  
as you struggle to figure out my name
and my heart I try to tame
as it flutters and beats
at your chairs every squeak
and I pretend cool
as I curse that once again I let my heart rule
over logic and pride
I need to learn to smite
these whims of adrenaline
and fix my hearts painful regimen
of loving you
I shouldn't have said anything, but that's stupidity of high school laid out in front of ya' on a silver platter.
Feb 2015 · 2.0k
Meet me in the hallway
Autumn Whipple Feb 2015
whispers
giggle twirl today
meet me in the hallway
as we gather our books and pens the normal way
as though this happens every day
you smile in the happy little way
that seems to hold me as i say
meet me in the hallway

we meet like love isn't here to stay
as we collide in the hallway
people smile and look away
at our rendez-vous in the hallway
your lips meet mine, we kiss, you stare into my eyes as we sway
meeting in the hallway

i waited for this all day
anxious fluttering belly fae
i walk out, the noise around me coming to a haze
as i smile at you, unknown, in the hallway
as you hold out your hand for me, life seems a little less gray
because i held you in the hallway
romance. finally. well not form me. sadly
Feb 2015 · 1.2k
clicks
Autumn Whipple Feb 2015
click
click click
the letters
mix
and stir
and whick
my thoughts
onto the glowing white page
the qwerty keyboards
calling my name
write me
it screams
and begs
and pleads
it tells me the clicks
will wash away
the feelings of another lost day
the clicks whisper of hidden things
that time will pass
that mindless thing
as i sit clicking and whicking
and stirring up thought
and laughing
and crying
all inside
as
my family lives their
lives
that i forget to take interest in
as they all respond to their clicks
technology sometimes.
Feb 2015 · 1.5k
I'm tired of loving you
Autumn Whipple Feb 2015
they say that love never dies
could never curl and  bawl and cry
love is the purest of all emotions
even turbulent and torrid
it is pure, never horrid

but I'm tired of loving you
or seeing your jaw, you finger, your tooth
and feeling a rush of fear
that i will never escape from this anxious pit of unclear
good intentions and impure thoughts
so i do what i am taught

i slog through the love, the lust
the misplaced affections because i need, i must
be graced with one smile, a small glimpse
even if my feelings you already dismissed

i was going to tell you,  don't you know?
i was going to knock my feelings off their petty throne
i thought that maybe if i let it all out
i would not feel a gout
of excitement for the forbidden feelings

that maybe i could stop pealing
in laughter at the smallest thing
when i thought you weren't looking, as i watched you sing
that i would have the control of my buzzing desire
but now i refuse to fan the fire

my friends still egg me on.
Valentines Day is on Saturday, what could go wrong?
I've found that people are great at giving advice
when it wont affect them even once or twice

but they know that you know off my misplaced affection
you see it now in every inflection
she lied and told you behind my back
and then asked me to cut her some slack
when now that tenuous friendship we once had was broken

and i only ask you to give me a token
of admitting your silence
rings out louder
than any no
... lesson well learned. and i will have to see him again, and again, and again, four hours a day, every day
Feb 2015 · 938
like little kids
Autumn Whipple Feb 2015
a girl walked up to me one day
well, a young woman really
she said that she had something to say
and what she cried was sorry

i was shocked, surprised
for what? i queried
i don't remember any past transgressions
so it didn't lessen
my bewilderment when she smiled
and said
for everything

a couple years later she walked up to me again
and said lets share secrets and be friends
and one after another the words just flew
tales of love and *** and horror too

she sat beside me
as i drank in her words and similes
a silent laugh kindled inside me
as adults we are still little kids
as i replied to her reckless bid of
let's share secrets and be friends
this really did happen, and it went surprisingly well. maybe it is easier to make friends as an adult than i thought
Jan 2015 · 1.6k
Bruises Blooming
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
i pull away in the nick of time
right before he captures his lips with mine
he grabs my shoulders
my meekness making him bolder
and as i struggle he pulls me in closer
as if this changes the fact that this is part of an older
struggle for dominance
but aware of an audience
i shrug out of his violent embrace
as his angry fingers try to erase
my fear of his anger
my fear that he will linger
in this ferocious dispute
of me trying to escape you
bruises bloom as you glide your hand down my arm
as you make everyone forget with your charm
bruises bloom in my heart
as your words tear me apart
bruises bloom in my mind
as you blind
the ones that could mend
the bruises you tend
like a garden of blue green
roses
this type of relationship needs to be eradicated, I've seen it happen too many times.
Jan 2015 · 1.9k
Center of Gravity
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
I've always been fascinated
with the center
of gravity.
as if gravity was
a being
all tucked away
under my skin
and my waist
was its headquarters
like this being
just decides
to make me clumsy everyday
like this being makes me walk
in my funny little way
people like to call others
their
center
of gravity
but however
weird and awkward and clumsy
mine decides to be
ill forever be grateful
my center
of gravity
is
me
self absorbed, yes, but poetry is all about talking about problems and this is one of mine
Jan 2015 · 1.3k
elements of real life
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
they say the earth
is made of elements
a whole table of them
actually
but how many times
do we
touch promethium
in our lives?
for everyday chemistry
between you and me
we need
a new table
one that starts with Hope
(H)  
then helping
(He)
then Lending
(L)
on and on
balancing
the equations of daily life
until we reach eqilibrium
ok, chem nerd moment i had like twenty of these new elements laid out but then... it became an endeavor that was taking more time than i had patience for
Jan 2015 · 761
Sickness
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
the sight of soccer makes me sick
the smell of old spice makes my eyes *****
seeing a buick makes me want to curl in a ball
it always seemed like you stood so tall
above me
as i stood in your shadow
you were
are oblivious
as you chat away
every day
pretending to care
pretending
like you want me there
today you almost
read my poems
stupid
to lend you my computer
while it was up
you read one
two
three
before i freaked and pulled it away
it makes me
sick
this hopeless devotion
it curdles my stomach
this senseless inward commotion
reading like a sheakspere historian
into your every word
brush
comment
every time
our eyes meet
i fall a
little more in love
and get a little angrier
at myself
for succumbing to
this foolish
black hole
of a sickness
well, im angry at myself a) for feeling like that for a guy who wouldn't notice if i never talked to him again and b) not paying enough attention before handing a boy ive written LOADS of sappy poetry about the computer where i have one of the poems up. one of the poems about him
and he knows it was about him, but he... ugh!!!
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
friends are like

pebbles on a beach
sometimes the plain ones
are worth the most
but i've never been good
at the picking up the pebbles part
i worry i read into
i over compensate
i try to be chill
but i just act manic
because acting like
yourself
when you look in the mirror is hard enough, but with
real
live
actual people?
writing is easier
but my friends
the pebbles I've managed to keep in my pocket
are the smoothest
shiniest
flawed
exceptional
pebbles on the whole beach
and I've lost a few
picked up ones that weren't good
to me
as i was their pebble
but my friends are
the rocks
that keep me weighted
in the real world
so i found that challenge ourfriends
and i wanted to try at least, so here it is.
Jan 2015 · 806
just touch me, god damn it!
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
heat courses through
to
fills my face
as he shys away from my hand
an eyelash remains clinging to his cheek
i want to scream
shout
cry
how could i be so repulsive
to him?
what had i done
other than love him
to make him so uncomfortable
its not fair how
friendly he is
the smiles
the jokes
the lunches we spend together
hes not my best friend
so that stereotype has been
avoided
but now ill never get the chance
i see it behind his
light
eyes when he looks at me
he will always hold me
at a polite
friendly
distance
that hurts more than
being rejected,
this awkward limbo
i accidentally touch him so much, a normal friendly
brush
helping him open something
brushing his hand as i playfully take
his textbook
but he always gets the same look
desperate
awkward
uncomfortable
i'm not a *****
for loving you
goodness knows
an accidentally brush
wont affect you with
the disease that plagues me
i want to hate you for not touching me
but i can't
if love's a disease
then i'm
festering
well back to my normal non clever ****** stuff. yay.
Jan 2015 · 1.0k
The Winter Queen's Soliloqy
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
in the tumbles of ice and snow
a small spark of a crystal did grow
i sprang out borne, not still
into a world of ice and chill
i loved the ice, the tumbling start
of snowflakes that cascaded through the dark
for what could hold me with such care
as the snow and ice that kissed my hair?
i held my heart in a hardened vice
of a sweetly spun smoldering ice
but i grew older
that layer of solder
quickly cracked over
my heart pounded newly awaken
in a wild flutter, i had forsaken
the quiet isolation of ice and snow
for a life i didn't know
i longed for years for a frosty companion
to lead me through the wild abandon
that people once called love

i crept, i crawled, i spit and spied
i let the hope shroud me with lies
and then one day in Holland dear
i cast about, i found the boy
playing with his small wooden toy
one look at him and i knew it was true
this boy longed to feel the cold too
all at once so far and so near
all at once my path was clear
his name was Kay
and at the break of day
i shattered the mirror
and left a shard of my love clearer
slipped into his heart and eye

but there was a girl, a wretched thing
who in winter still smelled of summer and spring
she had my king by the throat
a sappy pestilence that would revoke
my claim to my sweet one Kay
and ruin my chance for love, that wicked fae

so i came to  him on a day i loved best
and when he came close i clutched him to my chest
for now he saw the beauty seared
into my face, so ruthless and dear
i cried pure flakes as we pulled away
to my joy there was no delay

for he was on the brink of manhood
a sweet young thing that would soon leave the stage in which he stood
and grow to love me safe and sound
in my castle where he would never frown
and would tumble happily among the drifts and cold down

but i'd forgotten the girl, the awful thing
who claimed love for  my soon to be king
like the sun in autumn loves the far away spring
in my carelessness i left her to sing
a song of melancholy with a bitter ring

i took my love far away
to the brink of my frozen quay
and then i first saw him smile
he kissed my cheek and asked to stay awhile

years passed and he grew
i was mother, friend, then lover true
he was pure and sweet and warm
by me Kay would never come to harm
a man who loved the cold and snow
and the woman whom held it, all aglow
he led my frozen heart to love

but the girl crept up and tried to sway
the heart of my beloved Kay
she begged she pleaded, she did whispered and shout
but of my palace dear Kay wouldn't come out
he protested, told her a story
of a beautiful ice queen and a love of glory
but the girl did twisted and pout
she pleaded for my love to cast on me his doubt
i lied, she cried
i'd stolen Kay, so he should cast me aside

i told him once as i felt my heart crack
that if he left he could never come back
the ice and snow would be strangers forevermore
if he walked through that door
he smiled his brilliant way
and said he would never live to see that day
but as he turned to shout out go home
a single tear that that ***** had thrown
landed in his glass shard eye
and with a sigh he followed through the night
the sound of sun and cruel warmth and harsh light

i was dead, abandoned
choked
as though my dearest had cut my throat
she melted away the sight of beauty he once held dear
and his eyes for once weren't clear
the ice and snow now held no power
and he slipped farther away with every hour
until she made him forget all about me

i pledged  i would never have another
and until death came forever my lover
i would never remind him of the loss
of the world she made him toss

so years went by
and with every day he breathed and sighed
laced with crystal goodbyes
she couldn't melt the ice in his heart
and in my frozen palace there were starts
when ever he thought of a life that he quite remember

but ten years later in late December
a young man stood in the snowy weather
calling out my name
in a way so tender
the cold and snow wrapped him in its arms
and bore him away to my broken form
he kissed me once
his lips still cold
and the ice queen learned what it was to truly hold
a willing heart and love, fully thawed and smoldering
i will love this man, my Kay
until the world starts over and makes our hearts say
that a deathless death will be the right way

but until then we dance away the days
in immortal youth
with no decay
for it was a snowy world with just an ice queen
and a molten man smitten with the cold serene.
this was based in the Hans Christian Anderson story The Ice Queen. the first draft was  better but i accidentally deleted it :'(  this is supposed to be in the view of the ice queen, who i always felt bad for. the isolation of winter couldn't be a happy place, and maybe she stole Kay so she would have someone to share the beauty with. and suggestions or comments would be great!
Jan 2015 · 1.3k
tumbling down
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
I went up to the hill
that Jack and Jill
once tumbled down
quickly becoming the talk of the town
a terrible reminder of youth
the scene from this hill
one fall down this grassy *****
and your life
becomes the tale of legends
of stories
of perverted wonderings
one tumble down this metaphorical hill
and you leave the land of butterflies and fairy wings
and hit your childhood crown
on the rock of adulthood
merlin this is a not as good as it sounded in my head.
Jan 2015 · 905
flash of a picture
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
the flash of a camera
is a tumultuous thing
a blink of light
a subtle ring
behind your eyes
as you blink in surprise
shying away
from the flash of a moment to stay
immortalized on the tiny screen
no guessing however unforeseen
you pull your cheeks
you face feels tight
only the smile you chose when you saw the white
in the blinding vortex
of a camera light
i hate hate hate taking pictures, but the automatic response seems to be a chipmunk smile that people need to learn to delete on sight. ugh it is so ugly.
Jan 2015 · 616
sitting in the dark
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
the dark is like
a cup of
youth
a nostalgic omnipresence
that never fades
always the same at the end of every day
but no walls can keep me protected
from the thoughts that the dark brings like
unwanted guests to
a pity party
we belong to the dark
born in the dark
erased in the dark
never felt so alive entrenched in black
yet so dead
because closing my eyes does nothing
to the sheet that lays over my eyes
where there is no light to hide
from
the waking world
well. i really need to stop being a teenage girl and write some non romance-y stuff and actually try to write something i wont be embarrassed to read in three years.
Jan 2015 · 2.2k
Blue Jeans
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
life is an endless stream
of blue jean clad
millions
following the
wave
of others adorned the same
iconic
way
the american idolatry
of blue jeans
of classic
of sameness
of belonging
the blue denim ocean
crashes
on the edges of
the cliff
of what they don't understand
we american can be like sheep for blue jeans. And we seem to subconsciously hate others whom do not share the same ideas or fashion of political ideology as us
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
logical
Responsible
practical
make believe
that this is me
that these are qualities
who i am
in all honesty
the questions run
wild and free
make believe
that this is me
that that will ever be me
please
tell me who i am
because even I'm not sure anymore
is anyone
does any
single
one
know
other people
know
see
judge
what we push aside
what we pay no mind
can become who we are
in a blink of an eye
in a wayward sigh
becoming a lonely
make believe reality
inspired by a seventies song that my mom plays sometimes... its really good.
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