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Penelope Winter Mar 2018
In summer clouds
My mind will dream
'Til white lips kiss
Earth's cheek of green.

In flowery dress
I'll twirl my hair
'Til sighs pirouette
Through chilly air.

In grasses tall
My footprints will grow
'Til their stories are
Erased by snow.

Until each flake
Begins its dive
In fire and fireflies
I'll thrive.

- p. winter
An old poem from the end of summer :)
...
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
...
but                who
could          ever de         serve
love                    as                 much
as                                                 she
who                                         has
giv                                  en
ev                   ­        er
yt                hi
n     g
?

- p. winter
For my mother <3
I remember the period
Of rich, suffocating gloom
That I've written of
Millions of times before.
But more than that
I remember when
Flowers bloomed
And I laughed for the first time
In two months.
I wish I could remember
What was so funny
Or with whom I was so content.
But I remember
That the feeling
Inside of me
Was dangerously wonderful.
So I promised
Right then
To never go a day
Without a giggle
Or two
Again.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Sep 2017
I always thought my biggest competition would be
The pretty girls
The funny girls
With diamond eyes
And a head of curls
I never thought I'd lose to the bottom
Of a bottle.

I gave you everything I had
And made sure not to hold anything back
That way, if it ended, I could honestly say it wasn't meant to be
Because I gave you all I was.
But my plan fell faulty when it did end
And all I could think about was
How come all I was wasn't enough.

I listened to every word you said
Yet all I heard was
"Friday... drank... freedom.."
I remember making those Friday night plans
With our group of friends.
I remember being devestated
When I couldn't come with.

We didn't plan on drinking
You knew I never would
But, I guess, in my absense, you had nothing to lose.
So you drank with my best friends
And took the very shot
That made you come to realize
Everything that I was not.

The temporary high you felt while (illegally) drunk
Was enough to help you notice
That the good little rule follower was too boring for you.
And I'm not going to lie, it did break my heart
When you left me
But I guess
If my biggest competition was not
A curvy girl
But a curvy waterbottle filled with *****,
Then it was a losing battle that I didn't want to win anyway.

- p. winter
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
I first considered myself a poet
The very moment that
I picked up a pen
And simultaneously
Let go of myself*

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
I apologize in advance,
For none of my love songs will have melodies.

I will laugh in euphony and cry in cacophany, I will bleed with every typo and breathe with every verse. I will think in metaphors and speak in rhyme.

I will tell you I love you
Not by using those three words
But by writing my own; pages at a time.

I will compare your eyes to lighthouses in the mist
And your laughter to a lark's opera.
You won't just hear me say "you're beautiful" (though you are), but go on for chapters about every little freckle.

You won't understand why I think so dramatically. Or why I take so long to choose my words (because I always know I can find better ones). You will become angry when I sit down and write because I just can't say what I want to with my voice.

But, most of all, I apologize for the way your face will fall when you read my poems and discover who I am. You will awe at how I can hide so much in those little notebooks. You will hear stories about me that will never escape my lips. You will tremble at the exhausted self that remains after I pour all that I am into the pen strokes on the paper.

For these things, I am sorry.
So please excuse me for being a poet.
And please excuse yourself for loving one.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Aug 2017
i was walking through the frozen park
a day or two ago
when a saw a flash of memories
i never got to make

a family of five
was playing in the snow
a daughter with two brothers
opened mouths catching snowflakes

they started throwing snowballs
their laughter rang for miles
noses red and icy breath
not a single care or fear

i stopped to watch them play
couldn't help but crack a smile
i imagined we were they
and wiped away a single tear

soon they headed home
for some hot cocoa and tea
and i was left feeling the cold
slowly numb my hands and feet

i thought for a moment
of my family of three
and mourned the loss of two
that i never got to meet

i often think of you
the adventures never had
branches never climbed
birthday candles never blown

i hear your throaty laughs
exact copies of dad's
i get a melancholy feeling
climbing these trees all on my own

i think of that family
and wonder if they cried
for the loss of two strangers
who never took a breath

i wonder if i could have been
your big sister, hero, guide
but what kind of big sister would i be
if i couldn't save you from death?

- p. winter
I was supposed to have two little brothers
Penelope Winter Jun 2017
I have a picture of you saved,
For no eyes but my own,
That I take out of my drawer
Every day when I come home.

I pretend you're here in front of me,
As your body remains statuous,
And cry into the picture
As my grief for you grows fatuous.

For though your captured smile is still
I hear your loving laugh.
That joy can't even be contained
Inside this photograph.

And though your captured skin is still
I feel your heat reach mine,
Radiating through the frame,
Its mem'ries stopping time.

And though your captured eyes are still
The beauty of your gaze is just
Too much for this poor photo
To be able to contain.

They say a thousand words
A single picture can confess.
But your frozen lips say nothing
As the sun sets in the west.

In your melancholic silence
I place the picture in the drawer.
Tomorrow I'll take it out again
And grieve your love once more.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Aug 2017
I guess
When it comes down to it
I'm just a girl
Who wants to be loved.
And whether I find that in you,
Or in myself,
Either way
I vow to be happy.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Apr 2017
The monsters he grew up fearing.
The creatures from the closet.

The ghosts behind the walls.
The skeletons under the bed.
He was always afraid of the dark.
But as he grew
He taught himself
To let the darkness surround him.
Seeping into his veins.
The creatures no longer crouching in the corners
But flooding his thoughts.
Riding his mind into the sunset
As it sank on the horizon.
He learned to lose control.
To feel the monsters in his lungs.
To hear the ghosts whisper in his ears.
To let his eyes roll back.
He discovered the beauty in the shadows.
Befriended the silence.
He found peace in the isolation.
He didn’t fear the dark.
He became it.

- p. winter
~ inspired by one of my closest friends, who - believe it or not - is, in fact, afraid of the dark ~
Penelope Winter May 2017
Nearly
Virtually
Close to
Practically

All but
More or less
For all intents
and purposes

Borderline
Pretty much
Not far from
As good as such

You could have
Should have
Would have
But you didn't quite
Love me

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
And how lonely it is
To constantly know
That you are the one
Who cares the most.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
I can’t explain, my dear,
Why some days I feel like an albatross with wingspan wider than the Pacific ocean.
Feathers reflecting the hues of forget-me-not blues and tiger lily oranges as the breeze carries me through the ever hypnotizing sunset.
And yet,
Some days I am but a turtle facing skyward. An anxious bundle of awkward kicks and pathetic wobbles as my feet try to ground themselves once more. The very shell protecting me from danger having betrayed me as it holds safety in front of me on a fishing rod, like a carrot tempting a mule.
I can’t explain, my love,
Why every evening I pump myself with capsules of chemicals to dissolve into my bloodstream like sugar into iced tea: It’s sole purpose to sweeten my taste and leave everyone begging for more of the refreshing treasure that is my happiness. Knowing very well that without my sugar, I would be nothing other than a glass of bitter herbs in tainted water. My ice cubes melting as I sit in the sun, unwanted.
I can’t explain, my darling,
How your eyes are flames that pull me out of every darkness except that that leaves me rocking under the dining room table. Not because they don’t have the power to, but because I have grown too tired to let them. Too tired of the pity you hide so well in the colour of your irises. Too tired to let you bring the laughter you once found in me back to the surface. It has been drowned one too many times.
I can’t explain, my treasure,
Why, after years of fighting, I have yet to win this battle against myself. This war, within these bone walls, that I have slowly been losing… praying for the relief of a white flag… no longer caring which side wins.
Why my blood stained thoughts — cognitive gun shots — dye my snow-white mind a furious shade of scarlet; poppies on a cross grave.
I can’t explain, my everything,
Why bridges start to look like trampolines
And razors feel like skipping stones.
Why God no longer sounds so mighty
And families make you feel even more alone.
I can’t explain why,
Some days I can soar

And some days I’m stuck on my shell.
But to love once again,
To see beauty in life,
For that
I am fighting like hell.

- p. winter
art
Penelope Winter Mar 2018
art
is not
always
radically
tantalizing
a passionate storm
it can be
a
rosy
tenderness
gentle and warm
an artist's soul
in tangible form

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
Whether on good days,
Or on bad, either way just
Take me as I am.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
As dew is to the emerald blades,
So are your graceful eyes:
The refreshing taste of morn
As Apollo wakes the skies.

As snow is to great Everest's peak,
So is your mountainous smile:
Bright and kind but dig and find
What others have defiled.

As thorns are to the rose's stem,
So is your hand's embrace:
Threatening to danger
But, to the flower, soft as lace.

As water is to sailboat's hull,
So are you to me:
Wanted to be happy
But needed to be free.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Oct 2017
finger in my throat
my reflection watches me
flush my weight away

- p. winter
Penelope Winter May 2017
i come with baggage
more than i can hold, i pray
that you are stronger

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Oct 2017
I know that it hurts
But darling, beauty is pain.
Now, back to the scale...

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Apr 2017
Blackbird baby
Wings of charcoal
You think the sky is falling.
Your lonely song
Straddling the wind
Searching for an audience.
The home you grew up in
Had white walls and high ceilings.
Pure and sheltered.
You thought the room was shrinking,
Pinning your wings to your sides.
But baby
You were just growing.
Destined to break down the door.
To let the art of your dangerous spirit
Use the clouds for a canvas.
Blackbird baby
You've been raised by doves.
They've passed on their sparkling reputation
But it doesn't suit your matte feathers.
You're a whole other kind of beautiful.

Blackbird baby
Wings of charcoal
You think the sky is falling.
You feel so alone
You don't see how they envy you.
Your mind is a weapon, my dear.
Never doubt it for a moment.
Your body is a treasure, my dear.
Love it like nothing else.
Your time is valuable, my dear.
Don't waste it on what brings you no joy.
These lessons you have yet to learn.
You see only the thunder in the sky.
But there's a world of rainbows to be discovered.
Blackbird baby
You find it so hard to believe
That you are loved.
But you are everything to me.

Blackbird baby
Wings of charcoal
You think the sky is falling.
You see pieces of it hit the ground.
The end in sight.
Let me hold you.
Let me hold your whole world
So tightly that all the pieces of the sky
Fit back into place.
Afraid of what could go wrong
You pin your own wings to your sides.
Force of habit.
But without them
How will you fly?
Blackbird baby
Open your wings for me.
Show me your dance of ebony
Like a silouette on the sunset.
Blackbird baby
Hatch from your prison

And soar.
For one of my best friends. Sometimes she thinks she's so alone and forgotten. She finds it so difficult to open up. No one has taught her how to fly.
Penelope Winter Apr 2017
I promise that I'm healthy.
That I've never felt better.
Even though you don't know
That I keep finding myself
Back in this position.
Rocking myself to sanity.
Chained to the ground.
Blank eyes
With blank intentions
Looking for explanations
On blank walls
And blank ceilings.
Waiting for the day
It all goes blank.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Nov 2017
i write expendable stories on paper

but the anthems i can't let myself forget
i carve into my wrists

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Sep 2017
the sun's goin down
as my journey begins
surfin the desert wave of the milky way
on a leather saddle
the wind whistlin harmonies to my lullabies
the stars guidin me to nowhere
the horse's tail swishin
my home village fadin
further into the distance like a tumbleweed blowin
i'm leavin for the desert
you'll find me findin myself
straw in my lips as i hum
my breakup blues

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Aug 2017
A lonely loon cry echoes through the morning mist as it crouches over the lake.
The trees rustle quietly as the breeze performs its awakening dance through the branches.
Each icy breath leaves a temporary imprint in the brisk air, before fading away into the forest fog.
And though I'm free from all distractions,
In the stillness of the woods,
I think of you.

- p. winter
A week in a camp in the middle of nowhere
Penelope Winter Jun 2018
You protect yourself from pain
By leaving before it goes too far.
But without closure, you leave me
With the greatest pain of all.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Aug 2017
although the butterfly stage is
wonderful in every way,
where hearts race and hands shake
with every second of eye contact,
there is also a comforting beauty
in the kind of love that is
just existing together
in silence
drawing lazy circles on
each other's backs.
no need for racing hearts
and sweaty palms.
i love to love you
in the calm
and the quiet
of your company.

- p. winter
“Always give credit where credit is due
Always to others but never to you”

“You’re allowed to feel proud”

“But that’s vain to do”

“My dear, it’s not vain if it’s proven true”

- p. winter
My dad keeps trying to teach me its ok to be proud of yourself and still be humble at the same time
You can gain a lot in a year.
Enough to hide what once was
Or once wasn’t
On display.
But never enough to
Eliminate what always has been
And always will be
Hidden in the crevices.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Aug 2017
You can hurt someone while loving them.
Just like you can crinkle sheets by hugging them.
You can apologize, yet never change.
Like washing sheets to crinkle them again.

- p. winter
a thousand little daisy heads
are strewn across the floor
each more gruesomely dismembered
than the one before
and so i sit
and so i cry
and so i watch them rot.
not e'en a thousand daisies
know why you loved me not.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Apr 2017
the drums were always special
the boy played the drums
my heart kept the beat
never whispering
never slowing
pounding
beating
thumping
always in time
in synchronization
the rhythm reaching out
but yet, despite all the noise,
that boy was always so oblivious

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Sep 2017
How miserably
Yet freeingly
I cry

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
Darling, when you smile,
The brightest stars become but
Embers in the ash.

- p. winter
gop
Penelope Winter Nov 2017
hey you, deli boy
if you're reading this, then stop
reading my poems

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Apr 2017
the tears on your cheeks are the scalding fires of my soul.
the way you sob into my shoulder echos through my empty cage.
the love you yearn reaches for you
from my finger tips.
hold my hand.

the cuts on your skin are the claws on my neck.
the bruises on your knees shiver through my bones.
the swords piercing my arched spine
will never reach you.
i'll protect you

because

the laughter on your lips breathes the wind beneath the wings
of the butterflies in my stomach.
the crinkles in your eyes are the sun rays
kissing my face.
the delicacy of your fingers is the breeze in my hair
and the brook under my bare feet.

everything that you are
is craved
by everything that i am
and ever will be.

i love you.

- p. winter
~ for my best friend, whom i love dearly ~
I must be
Who everyone wants me to be.
I don’t know who I am anymore,
But I know it is not enough.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Aug 2017
I am a bird
With wings to carry me to faraway places
And a song to share with the world.
But my foot is caught
In the pin of a grenade.
And I know
That if I try to fly
My freedom will only result
In the death of all my
Beloved.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Dec 2017
I dug a knife into her skull
And slowly twisted it
Until her brain was a puddle at my fingertips.

But she would not die.

I threw burning coals into her eyes
And watched her try to cool them
With her tears.

But, despite the suffering, she just would not die.

I held her head underwater
Until her arms stopped flailing
And the bubbles stopped rising.

And though she drowned, she refused to die.

Something inside her
Was fighting to live.

But I owe her my life for that fight.

I guess I'm not cut out to be a murderer,
I couldn't even ****
Myself.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
n
o
  t
h
i
  n
    g

       f
         a
        l
      l
     s

   a
s

s
    u
           r
               e
               l
            y
  
         a
       s
    
  i


         d
                 i

                       d


  
                            f


                  o

        r

­

y
  
    o

  

                   u


                                        .
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
Clouds all whizzing by
As I free fall from the sky.
The ground comes into view
As my eyes search for you.
I pray you're there prepared
To catch me from the air.
But I look to my side and see
You're falling just as fast as me.

- p. winter
Maybe to fall in love does not mean hoping someone will catch you, but falling with them and knowing that, whatever happens, you're in this together.
Penelope Winter Jun 2017
Some people are afraid of spiders
Because they've felt fangs in their skin and the venom in their veins.
And they say the way to cure it
Is to caress the eight gentle legs and learn to trust the eight gentle eyes.
Some people fear the sea
Because they've felt the air leave their lungs, believing it'll never come back.
And they say the way to cure it
Is to let one's body be embraced by the tide and embrace the love of its waves in return.
Some people fear the dark
Because they know what hides within the absence of light and they've heard what goes bump in the night.
And they say the way to cure it
Is to turn off all the lights and touch the shadows. Finding the beauty in the ignorance of what happens around them.
But you, brave soul,
Do not suffer from arachnophobia, aquaphobia or nyctophobia.
Only one terror controls your life, daring you to face it.
For you, my friend
Fear love.
Because you have been broken
Time and time again
By those who said they loved you.
And the only way to cure it
Is to fall so deeply
That you forget the spider bites, the rising tide, and to turn on the light at night.
But mostly you will forget all those that hurt you.
And your heart
Will be free
To love
Unconditionally.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Jul 2018
I have feelings
Not for you
But for who you used to be
I still have feelings for the you
That had feelings
For me

- p.winter
Penelope Winter Aug 2017
the streets are filled with lies
of "how are you?" "oh, i'm fine!"s
strangers smile away all of
the battles that they hide
nobody's fine
nobody's great
it's not polite to articulate
the struggles that you're going through
but that's fine
how are you?

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
As you gaze into the darkness,
To the nightingale's song listening,
Be still for but a moment;
In the shadows, see the glistening.
For though the flowers dream,
And the trees no longer sway,
This garden does not sleep
In the absence of the day.
See them twinkling 'tween the grass blades,
Watch them dancing in the air,
Hear them sing to one another
With no voice, nor sound, nor care.
The blinding love of fireflies;
So soft and yet so strong.
Proof that, e'en through darkness,
Love's gentle glow burns on.

- p. winter
true love's light can never be dimmed
Penelope Winter Jun 2017
You're the hummingbird, storms tried to wreck her!
And you're scarred by the thunder's black sectre.
Fighting battles unseen,
Stronger than you seem,
Yet you feel unworthy of nectar.

You're the robin whose breast lights morn!
Calming as a rose without thorn.
With voice so harmonic,
Powerfully euphonic,
Yet silenced by imag'nary bourn.

You're a crow black as sin unabsolved!
A mystery no one tried to solve.
You were never shown love
By the white of a dove
And your anger has ne'er been resolved.

You're the image of swan-like grace!
Purity is etched into your face.
Embroidered with elegance,
You dance with white innocence.
But you're yearning to flee from this place.

You're an eagle hatched just for the skies!
With fierceness to blind naked eyes.
Feathers ablaze,
Wings burning sun rays,
Yet too scared of falling to fly.

You're the pow'r of the mighty condor!
With the force of an army at war.
Strength of the night,
Armour black with neck white,
Yet feeling too weak to soar.

You're the birds of the darkness and light!
You're swans white and crows black as night.
But you're so scared of falling,
You're deaf to your calling.
My dear, you were made for flight!

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Apr 2017
Good little Catholic girl.
Say your prayers,
Love your neighbours.

But not that one.

Ignore the luscious fruit.
The slithering whispers in your ear.
The juice, inches from your lips.

The temptation.

Eyes that entrance you.
Little touches.
Hidden blushes.

Keep it secret.

No one can know
That he isn't a
Good little Catholic boy.

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Aug 2017
you kissed my freckles one by one
til they no longer were imperfections
but artwork marking who i am
worthy of being displayed

- p. winter
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
I can't stop writing
These little, three line poems.
It's haiku fever.

- p. winter
They're addicting
Penelope Winter Apr 2017
She was a rest in a bar full of staccatos.
She was the note played pianissimo and the key that didn’t sing.
She had no forte in her soul, her steps were slurring phrases.
This girl was the music of a broken string.
Hers were the fingers stiff and cold; and the lip plate never kissed.
A metronome of self-doubt always ticking in her ears.
Never allowed a change in tempo, never shown to spread her wings.
Singing lessons from the deaf for 15 years.

The other was a pickup note, anxious to play the tune.
The dancer skipping steps up ledger lines.
The crescendo of passion, the diminuendo of a lullaby,
This girl no blaring trumpet could outshine.
But though her eyes were made of stardust her heart pulsed slowly, portato.
No accompanist, no duet, no conductor to keep the beat.
Her cheeks stung from the disguise, her worry slowed her, legato.
Compensating for loneliness with quick tempo deceit.

But, like broken triads, fate had it the two would somehow fit.
Drawn together as tied notes, destined to play their piece.
One so controlled by the orchestra, the other yearning for a duet.
The enchanting harmony within them had always burned to be released.
They played as one instrument, arpeggios overlapping in a heavenly key.
Swinging in synchronization, the melody swam magically through the night.
No longer controlled by metronomes, no longer stuck singing solo,
Forever, together, their own sheet music they would write.

- p. winter
~ for the one who was never shown to spread her wings, and who taught me what a friend is ~
Penelope Winter Jul 2017
"... had an early lunch."
"... already ate... not hungry."
My daily white lies.

One hundred pounds. Most
Teenage girls' dream size, but the
Weight of my nightmares.

"... eating disorder..."
The last words I hear before
My head hits the ground.

I don't even feel
it anymore. My body
Got used to starving.

A penny for each
Meal I've thrown out could buy me
Another water.

Work out until your
Size is small as your daily
Calorie intake.

"You're far too skinny"
They don't see the fat girl that
Lives in my mirror.

- p. winter
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