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Aug 2014 · 357
Many Forms
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
Exclusive, and derisive too
knives cutting the me from myself
wounding and harsh

Tentative and unsure
nervously escaping
a quiet animal, frozen in its tracks

Open and loud
free from all constraint, all restraint
wild and uncaring
joyful surrendering to timeless emotion

A secret
a shared whisper that
lovingly envelops and accepts
all those caught in its embrace

Gratifying too
uplifting and justifying
a reassuring wave with a healing nature
to strengthen those it carries away

A unique expression of character
and a reflection of the human soul
This is rhythm, truth, revelation.
This Is Laughter.
Aug 2014 · 393
A Woman's Lament
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
I suffered
depressed.
I wanted
sleep.
A still place.
This.
My utter hell.
I couldn’t believe.
I, a woman,
a woman they told,
to find, find the life-
my sleeping baby.
The mind had cried,
I was not alive.
The month
was over.
They later said
over all,
the miscarriage
was
for
the
best.
Don't even remember what this exercise required...but I still like it.
Aug 2014 · 356
Loneliness
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
The room resounds with silence
pressing against my ears.
There are no footsteps here,
no sounds of coughing, of shuffling,
of presence.
The clanking of pans does not
come through the door from the kitchen
and the cold makes me shiver.
No person is there to wrap their arms around me,
to warm my bare shoulders.
No comforting arms open to collapse into,
to cry into,
no breathing to fall asleep listening to.
The dust collects on the rocking chair in the corner
and the silence,
the silence resounds in the room
pressing against my ears.
Aug 2014 · 414
Writing Exercise
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
What I Want

I want to be
a breath eternized,
a harmonious duel
of notes colliding;
a deep hum like rain pounding on your roof.
I want to be
your familial need,
your strong cavalier,
and yet impuissant without caring.
I want to be
the sound of your seascape and
the harrowing experience
that brings your feet slapping again on my floor;
the sublimation that makes
me your chéri once again.
I want to be your car whizzing
through the slush on my road,
and your air as you breathe in slumber.
I want to be your remembrance.
But this? This is just doggerel my love,
empty tapping on a darkened window.


The Dance…

The sound of harmonizing guitars fills my dreams,
a sound to eternize in my memory.
Their duel of fancy is poetry sounded
in the chalet of pressing bodies.
Feet slap the floor to the sound,
in the familial dance of human experience.
The murmer of voices are impuissant when faced
with the strength of those strumming guitars.
Cars whizzing through the slush
announce the departure of
those with faces trapped in a cavalier facade.
For the rest,
the music sublimates the reason of the mind,
driving out thought like the sound of breathing in the night.
The doggerel of the world is left at the door
and the snuffy exterior of life is quickly forgotten.
Only the music remains,
its meaning an elusive longing,
and the desire to dance until the sun
drives out the shadows.
Using random words and sounds, 2 poems were born.  Quirky, but I like them.
Aug 2014 · 334
Expectations
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
It was after some stupid fight
that I was walking along,
the sun warm on my face,
and I stumbled upon a note.
I paused and looked, just in case
the one who dropped it was still in sight,

but no one was around.
Curious beyond reason, I stared;
frozen by an inner debate.
Caution urged me to leave it there
but caution was never my strongest trait,
so I picked up this note I had found.

I looked it over, it being completely plain
and I wondered if I should open it.
Perhaps it contained something better left unseen;
a deep, dark, forgotten secret
Or something worse, sick and obscene.
Perhaps something evil or utterly profane.

But there was a chance it was something sweet;
a note of passion and honesty.
A beautiful expression of love unending,
a note of caring, belonging, and need.
A lover’s carefully worded longing
meant to meld two souls into one complete.

Or it could be a note of sorrow;
a soul isolated in feelings of solitude
crying out in desperate need.
A final word to the world before
from themselves they allow to bleed
their every promise of tomorrow.

By then the temptation was much too great.
I wanted to know the truth of this note.
I had to see what was inside-
treasure map, words of anger or of promise,
whether truth, lies, of those living or those who have died,
this note was mine now, my secret link to fate.

Slowly I opened it, hardly breathing at all.
There lay the words I’d been dying to see,
each printed with neat deliberation.
Milk, eggs, bread, celery…
Disappointed, I let the note fall.
Aug 2014 · 337
A Riddle
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
I saw all the stars in the sky last night

As I was tenderly rocked to my sleep

I sat waiting until the morning's light

While many men slumbered under my keep



I am faster than any man who lives

I speak to the water, my mighty lord

All with me hear the whispers the wind gives

I have harbored gold, net, pirate, and sword



Many have sought adventure and found me

All my enemies see me as a threat

I am the sovereign of storm and sea

Have you found out who, or what, I am yet?



Into, out of, and through the waves I dip

I am the master of all seas, the ship
Haha, back in high school we had to write sonnets.  Thought it deserved a shout-out.  #tbt
Aug 2014 · 207
Old feelings
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
I was listening to a song that reminded me of you
and I missed it when you called out my name
I was concentrating on looking cute and not falling on my face
and I missed the moment when you would have caught me
I was waiting for you to come speak to me
and I missed the perfect chance to talk to you
I wanted you to hold me but didn't want to look desperate
and I sent you all of the wrong signals
I waited for you where I knew you were sure to walk by
and I missed it when you went looking for me
I was desperate to see you
and yet terrified of meeting your eyes
I thought I was being so obvious whenever I was around you
and I missed it when everything when right over your head
I thought you didn't want me
and I didn't see the longing in your eyes
I knew in my heart your were aching for somebody else
and in my pain, I never saw the pain I was causing you
I was preoccupied with everything going on
and I missed your hand reaching for mine
I wanted you to ask me to dance
and so I never took my turn around the floor
I never knew what to say around you
and I made you believe I didn't care

I know that I've been maddening, frustrating, confusing, and more
but still, you never gave up on me, gave up on us
I'm so thankful for your persistence, and patience too
we are together now- because of you
I debated even sharing this one...but just because it's not true for me now, doesn't mean it won't be true for someone else.
Aug 2014 · 343
Questioning
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
When I am old
will you love me?
when my hair so soft and thick
lies thin and lank,
will you love me?
when my skin so warm and supple
lies wrinkled and torn,
will you love me?
when I can no longer dance and sing
the songs you loved so much
will you love me?
when the flower of youth has left my cheeks
and I am all that's left,
will you love me?
What will change in the years to come,
I cannot say
But this I swear to you is true,
one thing that will remain the same
is how much
I
   love
        you.
Aug 2014 · 300
Believe...
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
I love you
the reason I question, and I doubt
is spurred by a fear of living without
you
but every time you look into my eyes
my misconception irrevocably dies
I love you
Aug 2014 · 331
Perfect
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
perfectly matched in every way
a perfect fit of night and day
a perfect man you'll never be
but you're the perfect one for me
Aug 2014 · 225
A Mother's Thanks
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
I was broken
                                      And he knew
                                                                I didn’t know what to ask for

  no dreams left to pursue
                   I was imperfect, unsure-
                                                                                       A little confused too.


                                                              My life seemed complete
                                                           I thought it was all together

    But even as I was content,

                                            He knew it could be better…

  
                                                               There was always something missing.



                           Before I could realize it was true,


                                                                            …God gave me you  <3
Aug 2014 · 222
You (a defining)
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
More than a note, or chord in my head
But a song that fills my soul

More than a feeling that's soon diminished
But a truth that won't be denied

More than a wish on a distant star
But a faith; a belief without reason

More than question left unanswered
But a knowledge beyond contestation

More than that which I'm not
But everything you are

More than everything that I ever thought I wanted for me
But the reason I've become the person I was meant to be
Aug 2014 · 255
Child of God
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
I don't need a man to be my Webster's,
and I don't need a relationship to define my being.
I have a God who's made me
and in him I am finally seeing
a person made in his image
whole and already complete.
You may say you love me,
but no mortal love can be quite as concrete
as the love of my Savior.
So while I'll miss you and will cry when you're gone
don't assume I need you here
for in God I'll find my way and I will carry on.
Aug 2014 · 280
Independence
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
you can't make me
and you can't break me
that power is mine
and his, he who made me
you think you've defined me all along
but in this too you would be wrong
you think you made me into the person who stands before you
but you didn't
there is nothing you've done for me to undo because
you're nothing but a grain of sand on the beach of my times
a loveless lover, convicted of his crimes
so leave, but before you go
there's one thing I want you to know

I can stand on my own
Aug 2014 · 354
Poetry
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
poetry is not a poison
but a burning desire
that courses through the
veins of the human spirit
meeting the soul on its own plane
transcending restraint
and substantiating emotion
in a tangible and connective way
it teases the thoughts, catches the breath
and breaks through all barriers between
feelings, actions, thoughts, speech and being
it is a spirit; a reality
a deep-seated truth that speaks the unspeakable
expresses the unexpressable
and brings to light that which was once shrouded in darkness
poetry is a boundless freeing...
a freeing of yourself
Aug 2014 · 314
Love Shattered
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
"My Lord," the tall man says,
"I'll eat that
and more,
carefully as if it had thorns-
I want to confirm your worst fears about me.
It's premature burial,
without hope-
I pray to its shadow.
Nothing's changed except
it's about the blood-
and maybe not.
I was careful of her,
I let her love me;
her softness and midnight sighs-
don't ask me why.
I've no idea what I'm doing.
A world of bald white days in a shadeless socket.
Sufferer of Aloneness;
I know you won't understand this,
but that's the sum of it."
Actually one of my favorite poems.  A small piece taken from 20 different poems and then having them all smushed together.
Aug 2014 · 212
Remember
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
Remember what we used to be?
The joy in this heart
the light in this eye
our first hello
that last good-bye
the laughter
the tears
the trials
the fears
the memories we made
my proof that you cared
the time that we spent
the love that we shared
the wonder
the wishes
the hugs
the kisses
all the time we had together
made our friendship strong
notes of wisdom intertwined
became our story's song
remember all of this,
remember this and smile
remember the bad, the good
all that made living worthwhile
dear friend, it's up to you now
to live for me as well as you
make each moment memorable
as I would have so loved to do
but, most importantly
please, friend, remember me
and remember what we used to be.
Aug 2014 · 273
Child
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
i love you
more than any mortal word could express
more than my actions could ever show
you are the gravity to my world and
i love you more than you'll ever know
Aug 2014 · 328
Permanently In Progress
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
Into that place
a hellish place
the hero is called to go
eden lost
undone by time
a savior without a soul

Called by fate
by time
by love
trapped by demons within
cursed
alone
pariah's song
singer of unspoken sin

How long he'll labor
without hope
the fates care not to show
a heart unfettered
surrendered tears
will you free the hero?
Aug 2014 · 406
Dreams
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
Persistence is sweat on the brow of passion
born from an exercise of faith...and patience.
So Dream on.

Dream on you backyard entrepreneurs
you idea formers, transformers, informers
of nay-sayers who
would take your dreams away.
Put them in their place - your past
and face your future with
all the passion you can muster.

For in those Dreams, those dusty
secret, loud, incredible, tired, tested,
and scared
Dreams
lies your potential, and all the potential that
ever was.

Your future can be your now...or more
if your hope
can trust in time to safeguard your power and
if you believe in the potential of your future.

Dream on.
Aug 2014 · 853
Foreigner
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
The intent people swarm onto subway cars: overwhelming.  I am suffocated as we move, their flow pushing me on.  Alien babble seeps through the air with intention, before settling into a subdued silence.  I still don’t understand all of their customs/aged tradition. They know, these South Korean people, know that I am learning and so they try to understand me.  This soft patience forms the basis of our mutual respect.  I learn to modulate loud tones in my voice, whispering words (my speech a noisy cacophony). This is unfamiliar.  For now, foreign, but if given time this strange culture so different from my home, will become mine.
Aug 2014 · 265
Dilemma
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
I want to say I love you—
I’m afraid you’ll turn away.
But if I sit, say nothing
Why then would you stay?
Aug 2014 · 661
Come Home Soon
Jessica Crandall Aug 2014
She washes a dish, checkered blue
Sudsy bubbles trapped between pruned fingers.
A monitor sits on the sill,
And sounds of laughter carry through
Their voices piercing, high and shrill

The desert stretches for miles, tired, red
As he sits alone on his cot
Stealing a moment of silence.
The sand creeps into tents
Through cracks the soldiers forgot.

She is tired, so tired—but not enough to forget
That the boys’ field trip is tomorrow
So she packs lunches, a matching set
Identical, except for pickles on the one
Which the youngest can’t seem to swallow

He opens his dirt stained letter once again,
And takes out the photo hidden within.
Hand resting on fatigued knee, he looks down and sighs
At two gap-toothed boys, a woman, and a dog
Cracked  fingers tracing lips, resting in their laughing eyes.
Probably my favorite of all time.

— The End —