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1.5k · Jan 2015
Little Squirrel Quill's Fill
courtney Jan 2015
This little squirrel Quill
                      He lived over the highest hill -
                                 He pined all day with nuts to collect
                      To protect for long winters.
Quill climbed the tallest
                       trees and still he
                               hid from large eagles till
                       He knew he could safely return home
                                 burrowed in his log.
Mr. Squirrel Senior Quill warned
                       "Don't be long, it's nearly dawn!"
                                  But little Quill amused himself
                         and ate acorns to meet his fill.
He didn't worry or scurry home -
                         He took his time,
                                   He sang a rhyme
                         He made a friend: 'Jerome' the gnome,
                                   He sang and sought a new way home.
Mrs. Squirrel Quill, she drilled and drilled:
                         "Where were you? what happened?!"
                                    Her mother's voice shrill.
                          "I, uh, I was ill!" said Quill, "terrible case
                                    of Squirrel's fill!"
Hiding the nuts, he smiled wide;
                           He was happy, little Quill -
                                    Free and filled.

(C) 6/1/15
Courtney L
1.4k · Jun 2014
A shoulder to lean on
courtney Jun 2014
The grey clouds shift and swirl above my head,
slowly, almost imperceptibly getting darker;
as if anger has forced a flush of colour to their cheeks.
I crane my neck, searching for the transformation
of anger to grief; for the tears to pour out,
to rain down on those of us below that don't mind
being a shoulder to lean on.

(C) 23/6/14
Courtney L
831 · Oct 2014
Emotional exfoliation
courtney Oct 2014
The worst part is that when I
walk in the door, I'm slapped in the face by
two radiant smiles
that deny
we just screamed at each other.
Or did we?
Maybe you just blocked it out and I
choked -
Screaming in my sleep
to stop the road from escaping
my feet
and leaving me panting from
either crying for hours or
running for miles.
I guess that doesn't matter now because
I can't feel any of it, not
the boiling hot tears that
sting my eyes or
their salt that attempts to exfoliate
my dry, raw skin;
Colourless, now, because sunlight gives
life and I've taken that away -
I can't stand another bright,
happy face as I sit here
drowning
in whatever takes my fancy.
And the rollercoaster enters a deep descent...
810 · Nov 2015
Shouting Loud
courtney Nov 2015
The things I'm doing now because of you -
Who'd have thought I could subside my fears
with the assurance of your acceptance
whispered in my ear?
I didn't know this was within me -
I thought I'd succumbed to a life
of mediocrity; but here you've
got me shouting loud and
taking a stand for all
the things I believe
are true;
the most sincere to me, my
belief in you.

(C) 10/11/15
Courtney L
768 · Sep 2015
Sick
courtney Sep 2015
Eucalyptus & honey,
my throat's been quite funny -
aroused in coughing hysterics
all day.
Green tea with lemongrass,
helps tedious hours pass
as I sniffle and sneeze
away.*

(C) 17/9/15
Courtney L
721 · Jun 2014
Be my cure
courtney Jun 2014
I can't remember the prescription they gave me, but I remember
your name being somewhere on it; for peace they said.
For stability, simply apply a dose of presence
every minute of every hour,
and the pain
will settle.

(C) 21/6/14
Courtney L
courtney Jan 2017
I don’t think I could ask for more if my
kitchen window was an open door -
stretched across Kenya, over viewing Columbia,
swamped by Uganda, wrapped in Moldova.
I’d spend days admiring the Dead Sea, the tops
of trees and everything I couldn’t see through the
snow in Russia.
But maybe I’d want a back door that
doubles as a portal to lost parts of the world,
its corners and beyond.
There I’d go, smiling and broke, because I’d
sell just about all I’ve got to see
what yet one man on this blue
dot has not.
Every continent, every country,
every ravine, every gum tree.
See I’m an adventurer; homesick,
but still lit with fire when my
heart desires the sensation of tasting
new ground.
A penny, a pound – the currencies I’ve found;
for thirty bob
(about all I’ve got)
they’ll drop me off in a spot
I’ve not been before nor
dreamt existed.
And as vivid as my dreams, I am yet to
foresee each day and the moments that follow.
But my feet wander forward, drawn forth
by the dawn to
places my eagerness perceives.

(C) 3/7/16
Courtney L
690 · Feb 2015
Metaphysical Birdcages
courtney Feb 2015
A lone bird beats its wings
silently through the rain.
Flying south-west for the winter
as it has no companions to indicate exactly
which way south is.
Somehow born without such instincts
it struggles against the current of wind
continuously reinforcing a mindset
of complete endurance.
So it will trek the stormy skies
for many winters to come -
bound by an endless cycle of
lost-but-just-certain in knowing
it simply has to keep going.
644 · Nov 2014
Captivated
courtney Nov 2014
The sun escapes for another night -
A flight that's slow and beautiful as I write to it;
love letters unreturned, yet somehow I know appreciated.
Piled in an empty box of fan mail that doesn't know 'overflow' -
neither do I, so it's okay beautiful sunset,
*I think you're wonderful.
623 · Oct 2015
Saviour
courtney Oct 2015
He captures my heart in quick, quiescent moments;
in seemingly soulless surroundings
my eyes are open -  as spoken is a promise of hope.
He steals seconds of concentration
for openly encountered
restoration.
He's jealous, he seeks my attention,
and, when I'm
thorough but thoughtless
he invades, like a lover
desperate for connection.

(C) 1/10/15
Courtney L
612 · Apr 2015
Bias
courtney Apr 2015
As I gazed into the dense inner-soul
of that broad birch tree I
so often sought,
I discovered nature's ever-changing influence:
orange, soft leaves had began to
stem from farther branches, yet turning still
to a softer yellow -
almost in attempt to compete in colour against
the richness of the sun.
I breathed in the sweet scent of autumn,
longing for the cooler nights and crisp mornings when
the workings of winter begin to
leave subtle clues.
A wispy wind streamed through the leaves
as if in a hurry to bring the message
to far away trees alike:
Autumn is here.
Strolling barefoot through the thick grass
my mind wandered past
the rainbow assortment of roses that lay
further ahead and seemed to settle, at last,
in the folds of a tall oak tree -
surrendered almost completely to
the fiery hues, it reflected
a glowing fireplace; the leaves danced and
branches crooned melodies to oneanother
amidst the heat of the flames.
And at last I yielded to it;
finding a tranquillity I needn't question
as I decided: autumn is the best season indeed.

(C) 20/4/15
Courtney L
607 · Oct 2015
Love like Rochester's
courtney Oct 2015
Strings attach our beings;
Love, omnipresent,
unites forest with fire.

(C) 4/10/15
Courtney L
10w poem
courtney Dec 2014
Pain comes and goes -

actually sometimes it just comes.
No one ever mentions this.
598 · Nov 2014
From Your Perspective
courtney Nov 2014
Paint me in my silhouette -
abandon colour
and add some different hues,
like black or
black.
Contrast the sky to my skin
because we're both
fading.
Add some light to
differentiate
the dark outside and
in.
Shadow the edges,
mix the black with white.
Smudge our reflections
in the corners -
blurry our projections
in your
eyes.
As you see the
life leaking out to
the surroundings, mix a
drop of red
for perfection;
add a
smile
and that's all you
need to
paint like photos,
my perception.
563 · Dec 2014
Summertime
courtney Dec 2014
What summertime brings
lingers evidently on her
glowing golden skin -
she wears it proudly.
Accessorized with
her pearls for teeth and
hair the sun lightly bleached to
fall into sandy-blonde wisps that
dance like the waves
she runs next to.
Screaming freedom down
the beach she clasps her
sun-hat like a prize -
she stops to gaze at the
wonder of blue surrounding
her view,
just as it does each
summertime.
557 · Jan 2017
One Light
courtney Jan 2017
My soul sees but one star in the sky above -
one light, one hope, one truth.
Days so numbered I'd choose with you -
Surpass thousands that differ in view.  


(C) 23/1/17
Courtney L
502 · Aug 2014
White tiles
courtney Aug 2014
The broken pieces of her heart are scattered on white tiles,
sharp like glass, bathed in blood,
little pieces of herself she can't pick up;
can't cut her hands on because another slice into her skin
would **** her.

(C) 24/8/14
Courtney L
501 · Jun 2014
The tragedies of war
courtney Jun 2014
The rose lies, carefully placed next to his name.
His eldest son has just turned five and doesn't know he's buried there,
among many other faceless graves.
The soft glow of a candle, lit over his last letter.
She holds it close, his warmth she craves.
His last words, only written to ease the suffering
merely prolong the pain:
"I'll love you, always."
Twenty-one when he left,
cold and breathless when he returned;
wearing an expression pleading to be spared from the
tragedies already occurred.
Sleeping restlessly in a coffin, he died in combat -
a knife to the waist, legs severely burned.
So as not to wake the children she sits and attempts to calm herself; grabbing a pen and paper to write one last letter back to him:
"They taught you ******* and not care, how to
mercilessly end what you couldn't possibly understand.
You learnt to block out the dying screams as you also
silenced your own fears. You thought you were freely giving
part of yourself, while they crept in,
silently like a cancer; they took
everything from you my dear."
I guess there's not really a point in writing a letter to a dead person. But sometimes letting out anger/despair heals - the living person anyway.
467 · Jul 2014
Winter excuses
courtney Jul 2014
I love winter.
It's okay to be sickly white,
I now have an excuse.
I like the coffees, the hugs,
the chilly wind that lets
you know you're
alive.
I love evening runs when
the sun goes down
three hours earlier,
and I have
to race it home.
I love searching
for a heater in every classroom,
then staying for so long I
burn my feet.
I love hot roasts at dinnertime;
thick gravy soaking my insides.
I love movie nights and
fortress building;
the inventive activities
my friends must come up with
to do together because
the park, pool and plaza
are all off-limits.
I love the mornings when
the warmth from my bed is
so compelling
leaving would be
betrayal to a lover.
I love watching the legs
of a primate unfold
beneath me as my
razor collects dust
and I have no reason
to clean it.
I love putting on my
entire wardrobe and
counting the layers between
my body and the
ghostly hands of ice
that try to reach
my bare skin.
I love putting on a beanie and
shielding the world
from my
awfully bad hair day.
I love all my excuses for not
doing anything.
463 · Sep 2015
Rejuvenation
courtney Sep 2015
Picking up pieces
and seeing the creases
in skin worn down to flesh -
sowing shoe-laces
and borrowing traces;
now clear and smooth is best.

23/9/15
Courtney L
439 · Mar 2015
Seasonal afflictions
courtney Mar 2015
I didn't consider it a disorder;
the seasons seem to affect most,
and what I thought, perhaps,
kept me down wasn't the
absence of the sun, see -
I thought the waves lapped in
my mind to drown me.
I succumbed to the consistency
of submerging tides that felt
physically deeper in the shallows.
I suppose I didn't understand
the darkening effect of night, see -
it doesn't wrap the earth in
deep shades of violet, it encases
my head in deep scarlet emotions
and they paralyse me.

(C) 6/4/15
Courtney L
436 · Jun 2014
Scattered
courtney Jun 2014
Something inside me
Instantly falls apart and
An ache is all that's left when
The sharp edges of each fragment
Lie scattered, puncturing
Near organs in their
Beautiful array of
Brokenness
...
431 · Sep 2015
Bravery
courtney Sep 2015
If ever a poet lets you read their work -
beware, it's a trick; for they're
not showing you a poem at all:
They're cross-sectioning their heart,
contents spread apart;
inviting examination
into blood-vessels as
they bleed.

(C) 17/9/15
Courtney L
431 · Oct 2014
Raw
courtney Oct 2014
Raw
Tiptoe.
       Very slow.
                Shoulders slumped.
                            Head low.
                                      An awful resemblance
                                                   to the surroundings;
                                      Tired, beaten, voiceless walls
                           doors slammed shut,
                A forced close
        To my emotions -
                       Supressed
                                Depressed.
            ­                              I'm stressed.
                                                  I'm tired -
                                                         I'm a mess.*
                                                          ­                                           Sorry.
422 · Feb 2016
A night with bright things
courtney Feb 2016
To spend a day sailing in the sky
and flying through wind and blue;
thoughtless and weightless, fearless and thinking
only of such a rush.

I'd spend a day flat on my back amongst
the longest grass - above all the leaves
but beneath the trees;
I'd listen to nature's gentle hush.

A night with bright things and the moon as it sings:
how transfixed we are at the stars.
I'll escape the city, for the buildings are pretty,
but nothing's home like a clear sky.

(C) 25/2/16
Courtney L
417 · Jul 2014
Cracks in the road
courtney Jul 2014
It's like as soon as I'm alone the walls fall down.
The insecurity returns, back to it's usual places: a nook in the cavities of my heart, a hole in the veins that should be bringing me blood. I can't hide it, it's like the pain of a memory that never really heals with time, never fixes itself. Instead thin layers of 'I'm Okay' wrap around the wound as if sticky tape trying to glue together cracks in the road earthquakes have parted. It's just another one of those nights where every hurt from every sound spoken hits me all at once and cuts like the original impact.
410 · Dec 2014
Depress-Express
courtney Dec 2014
I'm numb.
                         I succumb.
                   I become
                                      None.
          Not who I was -
                       Not a variation.
        I forfeit
                I distort
                           Perceptions,
                                       Recollections.
            I weave
   I believe
               I tried.
                                Endless;
                        I'll end this.
             Extend this -
Pretend for this,
                       I'll choose.
                  For who?
                            - Not who I was,
     Nor possibilities.
                        But facilities:
       Could they fix I?
                                         Would they dare try?
  Under a dark sky
                    I'll wonder why:
            It's daylight outside
                         but I'm surrounded by
  deep waves of  
                               endless
                                                   night.
Yeah it's a bad night.
408 · Dec 2014
Compulsion by necessity
courtney Dec 2014
Your blood, it keeps my heart pumping blood -
it sustains my being like trees to leaves,
a life source.
A current that allows light to defeat
the growing tempest of darkness,
always enough.
401 · Jun 2014
Escaping the darkness
courtney Jun 2014
I look to the sky, endless blue overtaking my vision in hues so bold I have to close my eyes once again, return to the darkness.
I dream I'm lying in the grass, looking up, not overwhelmed at the blueness this time, but enjoying it. Maybe someone is with me. Maybe they too are transfixed at the enormity of space.
I stare for a long time, thinking of how I could paint it. Struggling to capture what beauty it holds. Maybe I'll paint the stars too; little bursts of light intruding on the deep swirls of night sky.
395 · Nov 2015
Unparalleled
courtney Nov 2015
Some nights mum comes banging on my locked door -
she won't let me miss the sunset;
and it's beautiful
as we sit outside in our matching dressing gowns -
gazes totally fixed.
People say that God isn't real, but who painted this?
Where are Evolution's arms?
What incredible imagination could Mother Nature have?
No: this kind of beauty stands alone,
unparalleled and more than enough to
capture attention for hours as
it gracefully descends.

(C) 27/11/15
Courtney L
393 · May 2015
Mirror
courtney May 2015
Sit still,

          amidst the quiet.


Let expanses of space
                                            and time
                                                                           pass your eye.
Connect

   the dots and

           trace carefully the


stars
                     that reflect
and refract

                                     your hopes.

                                            Bright lights,

wearisome nights,
                       a book or two.


Deep
   thoughts,
                              weather-beaten
                                                   panes

mirroring

   intertwined ways.


                          Divided by social

                                                  rejections and

personal

               imperfections.


         Wasting time
                                       buying
                                                           carelessness
                                                                                          to spare.
                                               An
                        excessive
    supply of
                        
                         confused
                                              but attempted
                      
                                 sorted thoughts.

Brought on,

                 begot
                        by none but
                                                      the heavens
                                                        
                                                          and

                                                                       unknown
                                                                          witnesses.


                                                                                                    A wispy haze
                                                                of broken
                                   hours and

                                                      long-gone
                                                                  days.
391 · Nov 2014
A Song of Sanity
courtney Nov 2014
It's cut into pieces, but the shade welcomes me.
It sways back and forth -
begging to dance with me -
to the sound of a light breeze that is
probably in E which
is a little too high for me, but
I'll sing anyway.
A duet with the sun - I'm outshone but that's okay
because light is your specialty;
peace is mine.

We could dance for hours anyway;
I've got timing and you've got time and
we could probably busk in the streets if
we wanted to - but it's nicer here
and they wouldn't understand
the way we dance.
It's like a language that we
speak with the trees
as we bend our knees and extend our arms high -
surround them with sky,
to create a rhythm our minds
can't grasp.

This feeling is a release of
our souls - yours and mine
and it's not for sale;
it's for sanity
When I lay down here next to
my favourite tree,
listening to the wind, watching the
blue sky, I
find my *sanity.
Everyone needs something
387 · Oct 2014
Trying is inconvenient.
courtney Oct 2014
"And who are we to judge the broken?" She screams.
Tearing at her skin, laced with seams
she sowed to show she could heal.
"We don't help them: we condemn,
because we can't understand we hold the key to a
lock thrown downstream:
An effort abandoned when the price
peaked at an inconvenience to our dreams."
She sinks to the floor, unable to hold herself
because for too long no one held her.
Her patchwork arms
reveal the scars; as she kept count
of the let-downs and put-downs.
"But I can't save anyone."
She falls to the floor, met by arms that catch her
just as she breaks
and succumbs to the aches
that keep her awake at night -
shaking
as she reaches
for something sharp
once more.
Be there for someone - though it's inconvenient
courtney Jun 2014
They don't want to see you. They don't want to talk to you;
They want to gaze into a mirror and have a conversation.
They can't engage in any thoughtful conversations, they bury
any trace of originality under the exterior image they 'prepared earlier.' Their opinions are ideas formed like dough that was pressed into a cookie-cutter then cooked – hardened to ensure
they remain the same.
A united front of face-value originality conceals - just a mask to hide behind.
377 · Sep 2015
Suffering deconstructed
courtney Sep 2015
I'm reliving the times thoughts
clouded my mind,
in swirling storms of doubt:
But now I see, deconstructed at least,
the strings I've snapped and broken.
Once choking and heaving I've
become to bleeding
out the darkness inside of me.
Looking to you, staying true to
your words and heart so dear;
Emerging whole I've shed the
mould of a mind oppressed by fear,
And I see so clearly your light
burns within me, a triumph
awaited my tears.

(C) 17/9/15
Courtney L
364 · Mar 2015
Hunger
courtney Mar 2015
You don't need to run
His voice echoes in my mind -
filling my thoughts for a moment as
I remember exhaling all my air when near him I could
finally breathe again.
I recall the immense satisfaction I felt as I knew
He was the one person I could
completely lose myself with.
And if I do...?* I think, pondering
a future my darkest thoughts plead for;
set in seeking destruction they
wrestle with my heart's nerves -
Breaking, bending, snapping the life-lines
I've confined to a minimal.
I'll be ready, I'll catch you
He says, knowing my default setting
of self-sabotage. Seeing past all my attempts
to let my guilt consume me he
refuses to accept I'm too far gone.
I won't surrender this fight, not
before you do.
He leaks into my
hungry soul, satisfying a thirst
I never knew burned inside me.
362 · Mar 2015
Time is a witness
courtney Mar 2015
The shrubs are overgrown and evident of the
time we spend neglecting them and ourselves.
They breathe the threats we hiss
as we kiss
the love away we'd bought.
They witness regret and seldom connect
our paths lightly.
They see the bright stars shift
as we strive to sift
the memories remembered no more.
They grow as if fed by our lack of control;
They reflect disinterest for souls
sold long ago.
360 · May 2015
I Am
courtney May 2015
Thoughtless emotions
take the place
of words
in my mind;
absent to a notion of
who I am -
blind in finding
myself again.

(C) 17/6/15
360 · Jul 2017
Come Across Gold
courtney Jul 2017
I am like one who has come across gold,
But I'm richer and happier than gold could afford.
I feel like a person who is restored of their sight, yet this life is much brighter than surrounding daylight.
I smile like someone
who sits by the sea; beneath the sun,
overlooking the beach.
I laugh like I'm swinging the tallest of trees -
flying below clouds and soaring valleys.
My joy is fervent and my soul knows peace.
I am like one who has been set free.
(C) Courtney Lawrence
7/7/17
353 · Jan 2015
Lifetime Resolution
courtney Jan 2015
For this new year I
solemnly resolve to love
absolutely all of myself -
Not because it's pretty
and nor because it's a reality
unescapable, but because
someone else loved me
first, someone chose to
die so that I may live -
I think I could live my life for Him.
Escaping the seemingly ever-present prison of darkness -
I need to finally breathe again
338 · Apr 2015
Autumn walks
courtney Apr 2015
Red/orange leaves fill the seas
of her mind's searching eye.
Kicking the piles, creating miles
of mess behind her wake;
Another step she'll take, further
along the road of no regrets.
Humming a tune, swaying to
the wind and sky's duet.


(C) 7/3/15
Courtney L
338 · Jun 2014
Every area of contact
courtney Jun 2014
Maybe, if I write for long enough,
it will become beautiful. Maybe I’ll impress you,
and the words will
stain your eyes and ears
like injections of colour.
Maybe, like fragments of light,
it will refract and
split into a rainbow with
every area of contact.
Maybe if I’m with you long enough
your warmth will spread to me –
reach these cold hands that can produce
nothing spectacular so far,
just a spot of passion here and there.
Maybe those points of contact will
linger to form something more.
A friendship, a romance.
Maybe, they’ll defy the laws parallel lines
must abide by; living side-by-side
without ever touching.
Maybe I’ll write something meaningful,
and together
we’ll break the law and create
an area of contact; just for a moment,
our lines intertwining.
well then...  keep writing, keep dreaming.
327 · Oct 2014
Friends and Foreigners
courtney Oct 2014
My thoughts are like a conversation -
a dialogue between two worlds trying to
understand one another.

(C) 12/10/14
I'm a little crazy.
324 · Apr 2015
Natural
courtney Apr 2015
Purity
of mind
captured in
moments seen
and observed closely;
She's not just avoiding her
skin - she conscientiously won't
let them - in she knows a gem when
she sees one and refuses to be another grain
on the beach, but a sea of beauty further beyond.
She'll draw them in with her smile and her
defiance against being another skinny
leggy, blonde thing or a doll that's
life is pretending to be of worth.
She knows how to put on
a show of originality and
she's purer and more
beautiful than
the clearest
waters on
earth.

(C) 20/6/15
courtney Jun 2014
These devils lie awake while you sleep;
surfacing the seas of your mind.
They taunt you as you dream,
daring you to see past the nightmares
so vividly painted out before you.
As safe as you ever felt they were always lingering,
just around a corner that wasn't there;
so close the wind you thought carried you
was the fire from their breath
seeping through your lungs
and flooding your veins.
In your prison you pictured bold colours blending
together and creating worlds of their own
in the smudged corners of contrast.
A bright world, where happiness grows
on trees and devils lurk in your dreams.
All this you kept with you, locked away
in some part of your heart that couldn't
be enlightened with the truth;
you are tormented by these demons that
relentlessly surround your cage.
It's too late for your mind, you've been
deceived, your heart taken captive.
Watch as you restlessly lay wake,
envisioning your decay.
319 · Feb 2015
Write me a letter
courtney Feb 2015
For today I'm okay,
so write me a letter
signed 'your love'
and seal the envelope
with your lips;
a kiss
containing words

and spells;
binding my heart
so I'll write back
I love you too,
you can tell
it's true because
for today I'm okay,
I'm just missing you.
312 · Sep 2014
Words come more easily
courtney Sep 2014
But for today,
my hurt heals with
silly words and
ink-covered pages.
I used to draw. I stopped.
courtney Nov 2015
You're always being surprised by people;
Maybe if you didn't have fixed opinions
and twisted pictures of them mentally
their actions wouldn't always confuse you.
We're not one-dimensional and it's about time
you reconstructed your perception
of people with the addition of new facets -
See people aren't always your first thought;
so give me a chance: realise my ability to
empathise, remind and recognize
both our weaknesses.
If you'd shatter this reflection and only see
the complex connections of the soul
perhaps my imperfections would be
forgotten in forgiving eyes.
Though if I always aimed lower,
I'd either pleasantly surprise you
or not disappoint you, so go ahead,
think badly of me - at least I can always
meet these expectations.

(C) 27/11/15
Courtney L
309 · Apr 2015
Let the waves come
courtney Apr 2015
The build up of emotion inside
overwhelms me,
and I begin to feel I'm losing
myself in this tempest.
Sobs crack my bones
into pieces and  they come
in waves one
after another.

(C) 14/3/15
Also let them go.
308 · Oct 2015
Pitter-Patter
courtney Oct 2015
The perpetual pitter-patter of rain...
his crooked smile: now time for denial,
he's not calling my name.*

(C) 17/10/15
Courtney L
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