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“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”
   —The Serenity Prayer

I. Heron

I was born arrow-straight, built for flying,
Three skipping stones past Otter Creek, hollow
Bones blanketed by slate gray, blue stones slight
And callused by well-worn prayers and shallow
Swells of minnows — subterranean aches —
And water cold on yellow scales, hardened
By the calamity of sunsets, lakes —
The drowning weight of too many pardons.
Dip low, tend this broken shoreline sweetly,
Spread shadowed wings and break honeyed silence.
Forgiveness take flight at dusk, discreetly
Written in psalms. Tepid soul find balance
Between the calm, a resting river space
This old trembling mind cannot displace.

II. Quetzal

After the storm, the chaos and quiet
Meet like dew poised on timid fingertips
And shallow grasses to quell the riot
Stirring inside. Fix fragments of this ship
Made of broken parts. My soul’s petrichor:
Inhale failure with a benediction
That fills tired lungs with bravery, before
Nature proposed expectations — fiction
Taut and mended by truth. The earth exhales
In breaths refreshed by rain, accompanied
By loudening trills and harmonious tales —
The tremor of circumstance, and the need
To continue existence like the weeds
That grow in sidewalks despite human greed.

III. The Pelican and the Gull

American Magicicadas choose
To surface seventeen years after birth
For the purpose of recreation. The Blue
Pelican cannot quietly unearth
The patterns of the tide without the gull,
But she does so with tireless trials
And the moon at her back — the lunar pull
Shaping stray shells for a little while.
Twenty-one years of tawny solitude
Shattered by innate desires, buried
Deep by stubborn aches, and kindly allude
To breathing for the first time. Weight carried
And lifted by rekindled hope, reaching
Sands like a button shell kissing the beach.

IV. Kingfisher

I pondered self-acceptance before diving
Into seas uncharted, with the patience
Of Tibetan monks softly harvesting
Grains of sand on an abandoned shore. Since
Emptiness is impermanence, we change
Like shifting seas suspended in nature,
Born from the crease of God’s hand — rearranged
Flaws bound by circumstance. Come close. Nurture
This silent heart into awakening.
Beyond these gray waters surges the sun,
Hopeful in the wake of a newfound spring,
Ochre and alizarin. We become —
Aware that no one saves us but ourselves,
With self-worth rising in tremendous swells.
Evynne Apr 2013
Just like love, just like how you know life
With your heart beating and your eyes big with wonder and awe
You want to feel each day slip away as you long to get closer to death
For death seems to be the only logical escape
The way you view the world, there is too much evil, too many horrible things going on
Not enough goodness, no justice
You long to possess the right to inform people about how mankind has managed to lose its soul and fervor to pain, hurt, evil
Evolving in all of the wrongs ways, developing all the wrong ideals
You try to say the words right, try to make them coherent
And at night you think and think
And in your mind, things look so little but so unattainable

You are a spirit of light
Your left hand longs to be held by another's right hand
Your face longs to be caressed, to be admired and remembered
You need some reason to keep on living
For on your own, you are just waiting for death to sweep you off your feet and take you away
It is the only thing that seems to feel right
The only thing that really makes sense to you

You choose to remain in your thoughts and in your head
For it is a good place to be
You can smile a new smile, take your hands and dig them deep within the sun and the moon
You can hold the universe and maybe even restore the hope that was once present and flourishing within you
But once you must leave your mind and your dreams and your thoughts
You slowly and begrudgingly come back to reality and your stomach falls to your feet as you hear the pangs of the outside world coming back alive inside of you
You ponder the concept of the word "home" and remember an old body that you used to seek safety in
Cold and dark tears contemplate falling and you wish to live in the sky, gone from the world, slipping away in your dreams, leaving behind the dreadful drone of your own existence
You ache to be left alone in your thoughts
Your mind travels back to the days that once consisted of innocence and simplicity
So alluring and true
Tangible
Withholding pure and utter bliss
Now, so unattainable and distant
Forever gone

You try to stop your mind from traveling further but you think about the person you used to be, the girl you once knew
Her lips are now forever gasping for more and more air and the feeling of fear is hard and sharp in her heart that is broken beyond repair
You long for better days, for better things to come to you
But there is something dark and black that rests deep within you and you cannot live a moment without noticing its lurking presence
You long to be free of it
But death is so far away and sleep is only temporary
Your eyes are open but there's a path behind them compiled of pasts years that you continuously walk day after day after day
And they don't taste sweet and your breath is trapped within you, making it seem as if blood tastes better than this
And once again, death and truth seem attainable but so very, very out of reach

The weather is gloomy and rain is falling from the clouds above
You stand and let the rain kiss every inch of your warm and tingling flesh and you feel happy as you turn with the wind and taste the raindrops on your lips
Your heart is red with fire and warmth, beating graciously as you believe each and every raindrop is a healing kiss to your troubled and aching soul
Times of hate and despair trickle down your body with the rain and you feel both dead and alive all at once, waiting for something other than hurt and emptiness to be your dearest friend, waiting for the loneliness that swims through your veins to go looking for someone else to invade with its poisonous ways
The rain is trying to help but the loneliness was there before the rain ever existed and it cannot die inside of you
For it is very much alive as it stands in the room behind your ribcage, holding out its arms, loudening its voice today and every day, this morning and every morning, until it is eventually noticed tonight and every night
With its feet imbedded to the floor of your body and your bones, forever attempting to taint the beauty of your soul
You try to forget, but instead you understand
You lay in bed and it all feels so real as you look desperately to the stars
The same stars you have been looking to and wishing on ever since you were a small child
And you recall the first time you ever saw a star, still so full of innocence and ambition and wonder
But innocence isn't a permanent friend like loneliness which lies at the door to your heart
Innocence is forced to change its shape until it disintegrates all together
Just as you have sat and watched the stars for all these years, you sat and watched your innocence slowly fade away with age and the progression of life and time
Then comes the wonder of the beloved memories when you still possessed that innocence and its hurts and everything seems lonely once more
So you write as you look to the moon and the earth and the song they sing each night
And even though you have grown accustomed to the darkness
You are sure it was once was something that took too frequently and took too soon until it became a friend instead of an enemy
Because what other choice did you have other than to form an alliance with it?
And soon enough the words flowed from your fingers and nothing mattered as long as you could write and feel something, whether it was the pain from under a razor blade or the earth beneath your feet or the taste of wine on your tongue
It was still something

Oh little miss silence, the quiet and unnoticed observer
Seen by no one, your head high in the clouds as you continuously demand the reason for why you are living
You lay and wait for the great and warm sea to scoop you up and break you apart until you are nothing but particles floating about, forming other unknown entities
But people lie and we are all terrible human beings
Spiteful and cold
Critical
Deceiving
Although you have always felt different from the rest, small and everything less than perfect
Always thinking thoroughly, slowly, deeply
Always acting as a caretaker to others and their wants, and needs, and feelings
You discovered at a very young age that helping others makes your heart dance and that fighting for those who are in need is of utmost importance
You always speak so softly because your efforts are never enough to change anyone or anything
You are kind when others are mean, strong when others are weak
Every single night you lay your head down to sleep and pray and pray for better things and better people to reign, just as you did every single night as a child
But things get harder as youth diminishes
And once it finally leaves, you find that you are the person you'd never thought you'd become
And knowing that is extremely painful
It is a constant, stabbing feeling

You look for peace, talk of it, listen for it
Longing to make your insides bright again
Searching for a reason to keep on living
But your mouth is locked shut and you hide with the trees and hold dear true laughter and listen to the music in everything as you see reality through one set of eyes, and the world within your mind, through another
You feel sorry as you look for some person or some place to build a home
And you long to grow with the trees that will rest beside it and to float with the clouds that will rest above it
A world to live and breathe comfortably in is all that you long for
But you are living in hell as this world is the farthest thing from comfortable
You lay beneath the sky and ache and ache as you listen to the voices that sing above you
And you feel apart from everything and the sad feelings surface once more and you try and try to escape but instead more things wake inside of you and walls build up and around you until your story is just another poem you will write in the future

You watch the tree from your window and try to remember what you felt like before you lost everything
Hold hard, these ancient minutes in the cuckoo's month,
Under the lank, fourth folly on Glamorgan's hill,
As the green blooms ride upward, to the drive of time;
Time, in a folly's rider, like a county man
Over the vault of ridings with his hound at heel,
Drives forth my men, my children, from the hanging south.

Country, your sport is summer, and December's pools
By crane and water-tower by the seedy trees
Lie this fifth month unskated, and the birds have flown;
Holy hard, my country children in the world if tales,
The greenwood dying as the deer fall in their tracks,
The first and steepled season, to the summer's game.

And now the horns of England, in the sound of shape,
Summon your snowy horsemen, and the four-stringed hill,
Over the sea-gut loudening, sets a rock alive;
Hurdles and guns and railings, as the boulders heave,
Crack like a spring in vice, bone breaking April,
Spill the lank folly's hunter and the hard-held hope.

Down fall four padding weathers on the scarlet lands,
Stalking my children's faces with a tail of blood,
Time, in a rider rising, from the harnessed valley;
Hold hard, my country darlings, for a hawk descends,
Golden Glamorgan straightens, to the falling birds.
Your sport is summer as the spring runs angrily.
The wallpaper in your grandmother’s front room
is appalling. Old bible yellow pages,
bevy of bubbles joining,
thickening like arteries beneath the surface.

And what is that? The daily brain teaser,
printed patio of letters.
Five down - ‘state of being alone’.
I think I know it. I am sure of it.
Pack of hard-boiled molar-breakers covers the rest.

I do not know why
you have brought me here.
We stand like soundless instruments.
Wrenched from bed so had to dress,
brush my lips ******, rake my hair.
Presentable? Presentable.

Your gran, almost ninety, concrete
cracks lightning strike on the cheeks,
specific smell that comes
with the accumulation of decades.
She does not know me, will forget me.

Syllables will stagger out
from the mouth, words, whole sentences
watery or gone. Instant evaporation.
A shuffle. And another shuffle.
A loudening shuffle.

Enter. Oh, how sorry I feel!
Hands quiver as frightened leaves,
cup quickstepping on the saucer.
You dash over, take control,
steady the shake of brick-ish tea.

My name comes, tinged with a lisp.
Your grandmother looks at me
with her eyes, jelly-rolled marbles,
a smile creaking across her face.
You know it. I know it. She knows it.
A woman caught in the icy fist of winter.

She sits. Sighs. I know the feeling.
I bend down, say slowly,
enunciate clearly.
Solitude.
Five down, my dear? Yes, correct.
Written: November 2018.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time for university - a pastiche of sorts of the style of Sylvia Plath. Please note that the last line's 'Yes, correct' is supposed to be italicised, but HP is having none of it. Feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
Emma Faith Sep 2017
you can almost smell
the rose colored clouds
almost hear the whispers
of sullen storms
slowly changing the sky
from champagne to silver,
feeble strands of gold
slicing through
the dark heavens
a crack! of thunder
breaking through the
loudening voices
and the sky falls silent.
blue blue blue
the whispers reside
dark silhouettes
of the unknown
take their places
until the break of dawn
black pink golden blue evening skies. all is as it should be.
Sirens

Past midnight I can hear a siren blasting,
The sound loudening as it passes by
I believe that somebody could be at death’s door tonight.

Rapidly disappearing down the highway
Though out of sight now but never out of mind-
I can still hear the alarm bell blaring-
As it did the night my mother was taken away
Twenty two years ago today.

Not so long ago- I can recall
When I myself was taken away because
Somehow my grasp on reality had faded-
I believed I was possessed by some demonic being.
And hearing voices no one else could hear.

A raging sound it was, and unrelenting-
A sound reminiscent of agonizing dread
I recall fading into the bleakness of despair, as
My whole world had darkened and became ill fated.

I  can still hear sirens every day and night
Blasting down the thoroughfare
Within the realm of my imagination, I can still envision
Dying souls buried within the gardens of the deceased.

I can hear those sirens blaring now, on this night
Bringing back memories of my mother’s demise or of
The night I had lost my sanity-
As I clench my fists in utmost fear, I try to seek the light-
As the sirens I hear screaming down the road tonight
Could be coming to take ME away once more, and
I could be the victim once again,

But as the outrageously terrifying noise quickly fades away
A sigh of relief brings a smile upon my face
As I realize that those times are over and behind me now=and
Memories of those times have suddenly and miraculously slipped away.

Claudia Krizay
Roro Aug 2020
I'm breaking and can feel my cracks
Expanding and loudening with every snap
Emotional turmoil and feeling delusional
Will I be jumping off the plank soon?
Will I be tempted to pick up metal again?
Will I try to escape from all the pain
With that chilling bright pink and red?
I can't go back down there again
Down the endless pit my mind constructs
Every now and again to put me in my place
I've been so happy, been feeling so full
I've had him for support until he leaves
Then I become an inanimate vessel
For a breaking, shattering mind
My body feels tender and pathetic
I had so many plans for productivity
Excitement for senior year,
Getting my **** together, finally
Tossing and turning
Anxieties are rushing
Shooting pains so numbing
Woke up to find splotches of bloodstains
A whole *** massacre on my bed


It was my ******* period.
No wonder I'm so constipated
I'm actually still waiting for it to come lol... any day now.
Little white sails
Skimming the horizon
Little white clouds
Whisped throughout the sky
Little sandy pebbles
Tumbling through my toes
Little loudening thoughts
Of life just passing by.
|b.g.|
Just a MoCo girl living in  SMCo world.
Lucas Lowman Feb 2014
Do not live a life of have nots and what ifs
Of should haves, could haves, and would haves

A routine life is no life at all
So jump blindly into the void that is the future
And never look back

And with the loudening boom of a million voices scream at the face of uncertainty

Do not doubt us
For we do not doubt ourselves

We will be left smiling
Happy with the chances we took
the pitfalls we jumped
And the mountains we climbed
Living in Fear

Lost in a dream world, far beyond veracity-
Seated cross-legged upon a wooden beamed floor-
I pray to the Goddess, the savior of my spirit
Fabricated in a moment, although lost and forgotten-
Now I speak only to the people who live
Beyond the mountains, purple in their hue-

Dancing beneath the magical rain falling from
The loveliness of crimson clouds-
Melodious voices ring out as they
Enchantingly obliterate the demons of my past and present-
An expressive smile creeps up upon my face-
Finally I have been liberated-

As a ghost-like shadow eradicates the light,
I feel the presence of faltering footsteps
Pounding the floors-
Loudening voices resonate throughout the confinement of this room:
Speaking the words “I am coming to take you away-“
I feel a firm grip of a stranger’s hand upon my shoulder as
A metal cuff locks about my wrist-

I feel my body somehow
Disconnected from my mind as I rise to my feet-
Moments later, locked inside the confinement
Of an unfamiliar vehicle-
Blaring sirens exacerbate my fear-
In this moment of terrifying madness
I pray to the goddess, the savior of my spirit-
Crimson clouds transforming to dank, dark fogginess-
I feel a different sort of rain falling-

I have come to realization-
That the demons of my past and present - have returned-
As my soul escapes the confinement of my mind,
Thunder claps while lightening strikes-
There is no magic beyond mountains
No place for dancing and the only voice ringing out now
Vibrant as pounding upon a base drum bellows-
“I have come - to take you away-“

Claudia Krizay
DElizabeth Mar 2022
loudening mind.

fingers trembling.

saddening mind.

breath quivering.

maddening mind.

i want it to stop...

i want it to...

— The End —