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Gillian Drake Apr 2016
When days roll by a little at a time
trickling on the rocks,
drip drip
the time flows by endlessly into the night.
Peaceful these days seem and soon you are bombarded
unwittingly under stress your soul cries out
and like hail pounding on your roof in quarter inch disasters,
you pound your fists.
Time still flows but it is staggered now,
there is a storm tonight.
Out of control, it leaves a trail of sorrow behind it.
A light flashes and you are startled for a moment.
You wait.
The floorboards, ceiling fan, your appliances rattle all at once.
Lightning strikes and not a single person is hurt but the storm
rages on.
ITS STORMING OUTSIDE LIKE A LOT so needless to say I felt inspired yes. Expect a part two soonish.
Gillian Drake Apr 2016
A feather floating,
this feather is me and it was a pound heavier.
This once heavy feather merely floated.
I found solace in weighted thoughts,
my heart was born a feather
and it personified me
but it felt too special in all the wrong ways
when this feather aged and changed
many felt pain and this poor feather floated
but it added a few ounces to normalize itself
this heart of mine added weight by the day to
identify myself with other with ease.
I tried to float in this new chapter of my life,
but the feather floated ungracefully,
the feather lost its fluffy bits, bit by bit.
Crunch time and I dropped a pound of weight from my heart,
it was sudden, almost like losing baggage in an air plane terminal.
I use this feather as a saber,
it floats gently around conflicts that are blinded by shallow intents
and cuts the air.
It dances and spins,
this feather truly floats.
this poems inspo is a combo of the music I'm listening to as well as a friends poem. Enjoy!
Gillian Drake Mar 2016
Where do the sunbathed birds go?
I want to know because I'm bleached pale
with the winters woes
and I want out of this cage.
I want to sunbathe were the birds might be,
with their twittering tweetles
and the promise of spring that is so soon around the corner.
Here the weather is just as bi-polar as I believe myself to be.
I'm a self proclaimed doctor with a self proclaimed condition,
and I am prescribing myself a day in the sunshine.
I can't wait to be where the robins lay their eggs,
where the sparrows fly with a glint of their tail left behind them,
and where that indistinguishable "too big for its britches" bird
finds himself his next meal... slowly...
So please, can you give me any directions
to where the sunbathed birds go?
heard some nice poetry today and felt the itch to write something.
Gillian Drake Feb 2016
There are days when I remember this incident
the incident that made me stop trusting my own instinct
and start finding a way to make sure I'm happy.
This incident,
a letter
with the sheer mask of a love letter was
really actually a hate letter not directed towards me
but to the sender,
I find that every time I remember the incident
I remember the sheer terror and silent screams that
protruded my body,
I remember the buckets of tears I cried that night,
and I remember the space and time,
I remember how happy I was right before I opened that letter
and how it faded all too quickly.

I can't handle myself now a days but
this incident finds me at these moments and grasps me,
I remember it, always returning to tears and
I come to the conclusion that I don't share a lot about myself
and I remembered just today thinking
" I talk about myself a lot don't I?"
Well I don't, not really.
No one really knows how I felt in that moment except God himself,
not even now, the moment is too shrill to describe,
because it absolutely broke me.
im not sure what to feel with this piece tbh. solice? maybe...
Gillian Drake Feb 2016
unwind your spine in the easiest of manners
our machine has cogs as far as they eye can see.
You can't see yourself fitting?
That's no problem,
we can fix that,
unwind and we will rewind
you and your way of mind.

Glue together your thoughts and make them a new song
make a new joy out of the sorrow you see.
You have been running from your dreams because your gut
your gut says "leave"
but even so you know you need to go,
rewind to a braver time
and find yourself
pick yourself out of the cog that machine broke you
to be in the shape, form, and spitting image of.

You there, you right there
you can come out of your *******
and into ours
you rang your bell when you're crushed to tight
but we don't care too much,
you are our profit, and no the margins do not lie.
Do you remember the last time you even rang that bell?

there are memories in that broken shell you claim to fester in
there's something in there.
I can see that little ray of sunshine in there,
come out of the machine that claimed you when you were broken
because "no one else wanted you"
but that machine wanted your
your mind
and you don't want to rewind to the time
you were there,  because now you are comfortable,
But you have to find your way out my dearest friend,
because you are in there.
Gillian Drake Feb 2016
Circuitry, click snap into place
the memories of the lesson
the learned facts of the day
but theres a single missing link
and every click snap is
and all of those facts become

Gillian Drake Feb 2016
Riding down the rapidly declining *****
on the bright, soft-water day,
I imagine myself as nothing more than an animal
falling down a waterfall into a lake clear and crisp.
The wheels of my bike turn rapidly
like the a propeller of a plane,
just as powerful
and just as dangerous if I fall,
but only to me.
Catching the sea salt breeze
my blonde, sun bleached hair flies as if
it were flying on seagulls wings.
I am a cadmium yellow blur on a painting,
moving much too fast to be captured and depicted accurately.
I ride until the end of my ***** this way,
finishing strong with out a hint of regret.
I was listening to a song and though of bright colorful Hayao Miazaki movies, and this poem is the love child of these two sentiment.
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