"redrafted" poems
And me i wait down the weight,
of the past
by leaving my plate,
Untouched.
Instead i devour the self hate,
And compensate
for the thoughts in my head.
By pacing along a path,
that'll only lead to my death bed.
But me,
I already died inside,
Many years ago.
And my heart it may slow,
But it does not show my ability to swallow
Mouthfuls of regret at time.
And me,
I combine,
Thought and feelings,
With actions,
I have no sense of attraction,
When i stare at my reflection
That screams rejection,
And i pull out a fraction
of the person i used to be.
Because me
I am 100 pounds too heavy,
80 pounds to heavy,
Every single pound too heavy.
And this weight loss is steady,
And these burdens i carry,
With this thinking that refracts me
Prevents me the ability,
To see any positive trait, or quality,
I drown in a sea,
Of unforgivable mistakes,
I break, crack, smash
Into a thousand pieces.
And you,
You try to iron out the creases,
With therapy and weight gain,
And to you,
I am a piece of paper with a name,
And my tiny frame encompasses
Years of self blame,
Disdain.
And me,
I slip through the cracks in the earth,
As i claw and clasp for an inch of
Self worth.
I try to ride and surf
This tide,
But the feelings inside,
The thoughts in my mind,
Do not allow me to find
Acceptance anywhere.
And me i exhale rotten air,
As i stare at my past,
And i try not to feel,
But this pain is so real,
So me, i skip a meal
And refuse the next,
I filter through the net,
Stomach regret,
And maybe one day yet,
Ill be ready for freedom,
Excited and apprehensive about the person,
I have the potential to become.
But for now,
My meal is undone.
And me,
I run
in fear,
There is no life here,
No beauty near.
And the sheer idea,
That maybe,
Just maybe
A number shouldn't dictate my self worth.
Shouldn't cause me to hurt, myself
That i am worth more,
The idea of closing the door,
Too much to bare.
So in silence I'll stare,
I'll restrict and starve,
And lose my hair,
And don't tell me I don't care,
Because it'd be impossible
For me to care any more,
But can't you see
There's a fire inside of me
And Im burning at the core.
And i guess that makes me a coward, a quitter,
But i can't see anyway fitter,
And it tastes so bitter
Chewing on the past,
And the taste it lingers
And fills up my glass.
But until you've walked in my ever shrinking shoes,
Do not judge me,
Or the choices i chose,
Do not question the freedom i lose,
This body i abuse.
Do not remind me
Of the sanity i could find
For you have no clue
Of the hurricanes
That run wild within my mind.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 6:07 AM UTC
Honey take away the blade
From those innocent little wrists
You're far too precious
To hurt yourself like this.
Baby, take your fingers
From down your scarlet red throat,
You're far too beautiful,
To make yourself gag and joke.
Sweetheart, take away those pills,
From your desperate hands
You're far too gifted,
To slip through the sands
Of time.
Darling, take away the fist,
From your delicate head,
Your far too special,
Use a pillow instead.
My love, take away the bottle,
From those pursed lips,
you're far too magnificent,
To throw your life away, like this.
Angel, take all those self destructive thoughts,
Urges and impulses,
Those painful memories,
Those constraining convulses,
Of the past,
And throw them to one side,
hold yourself in your arms,
And allow yourself to cry.
You're worth so much more
Than to cause your self harm.
That's a promise from me,
You're life is far too treasured,
For you to drift away,
In history.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC
I use a pencil when I write down my dreams
Some have been the same all these years
Some came into being in the course of one night.
I use a pencil when I write down my dreams
Some on paper, locked in my heart
Some I erased, redrafted with tears.
I use a pencil when I write down my dreams
Some I turned into my whimsical reality
Some I had to edit because I'm realistic.
I use a pencil when I write down my dreams
Some make me quit because I'm pessimistic.
Some make me see beyond the difficulty.
I use a pencil when I write down my dreams
Cannot draw the future, but I can sharpen it
Can only scribble until dreams become clear.
I use a pencil when I write down my dreams
Will protect them from rain so they won't smear
Will not stop until I find the shoe that fits.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
Amid the grey clouds of loneliness,
Shattering all the causes of sadness,
There came a light of happiness.
Filling my life in and out with brightness.
Every cloud has a silver lining,
But it all depends upon the timing.
It was there with me all through my decline,
But I couldn't recognize it at that time.
Where there is life, there is hope,
It totally depends upon how you cope.
Had I not been busy collecting the stones,
I would have known, who is my own.
The die has now been casted,
Every part of the life will be redrafted.
New seeds will be sown in the bed,
The past will be forgotten and dead.
The silver lining will protect me from the evil eyes,
We together will touch new highs.
All the sadness will be parted with goodbyes,
There will be a new morn' with clear skies.
Yes,
Amid the grey clouds of loneliness,
Shattering all the causes of sadness,
There came a light of happiness.
Filling my life in and out with brightness.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
Jan folded the letter
running a finger
along its crease.
She looked up-
someone was
explaining functionality
She stared at
the new argument
on the white board
then returned to the letter-
the fold
the plane
pressing and creasing
vertices meeting
corners peaking.
Sighing:
His orientation obvious,
they were now mismatched.
Incongruent
she rose
and left the room.
There would be many such
lessons.
Tommy Carroll
redrafted
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
When days pass in slow succession,
And the comings and goings are all repetition,
My mind wanders aimlessly to
All the days I had in a bygone youth.
How my sisters and I were mischief incarnate,
How the vilest words we uttered were **** it!”
How the world seemed bigger when we were small
And how I believed I had a chance at it all.
Friends who came, went and never left.
Beloved pets whose death made us bereft.
Homes we helped to build with our own hands.
Times when we dwelt in far away lands.
But there is always a catch in the back of my throat;
A wish that my thoughts could fully quote
A man whose poem is so finely crafted,
I’m convinced it was never once redrafted.
For it catches by its words in near perfection
The very soundtrack to all this: my reflection.
This particular poem is quiet and mellow;
It was written by a Mr Henry Longfellow.
I write it now for you below
That you may enjoy its beauty also.
“The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.”
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 1:46 PM UTC
In my dreams,
I hear the train in my mind
The years have gone by,
I have heard it over and over again.
The train, the stadium, the camp.
I cannot forget this life, what my story is,
I thought I could change, but
How can I pretend I am someone else?
They don't know who I am, they know nothing.
There is nothing left for me.
My scars will never heal.
Sometimes, I want to die.
(Random phrases from the notebook entries; pages 259-261 of the novel Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay-Redrafted)
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
Jan folded the letter
running a finger
along its crease.
She looked up-
somebody was explaining
functionality:
She stared
at the new argument
written on the white board
then returned to the letter-
the fold
another plane
pressing and creasing
vertices missing
corners peaking...
Sighing:
His orientation disengaged
they were now misplaced.
Incongruent
she rose
and left the room.
There would be
many such lessons.
Tommy Carroll
redrafted
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 7:17 AM UTC
I want it to be so that
I am a dark mass of life
A dark, cataclysmic shroud of flesh
A size bigger than the problems I harbor; but not as big as my regrets.
Oh yes, to be a spiral of catastrophe, absorbing all that is in my path.
swallowing them,
engulfing them
quickly,
but,
quietly,
spitting them out anew,
And whole again.
I sought to be the storm before the calm,
the pouring rain after the thunderclap of liquid-silver-lightning.
To be a wave of confidence and setting myself atop the horizon of other people’s views.
To gradually become a giant,
to be a whirlwind of
...nothing.
Meanwhile here, I am a cloud;
A cloud of doubtfulness,
Perspiring at the mere second
A weak faulty existence
I am the aftermath
The reconciliation
The ending of what was thought to be the beginning
A mere cloud,
amongst other things
I want it to be so that I float,
otherwise, I am drowning
My humidified scrawny legs are sweeping steel floors,
littered with reflections of redrafted selves.
Reflections that mirror the broken shards of one's psyche
expected to form a whole mirror.
I put my ten toes to the cold steel surface,
while dragging my past selves as we crawl
to where the Dim light is.
yet I do not cast any shadows.
I want it to be so that
I am the lord of the flies, to decompose in a cleanroom.
To assert my existence within these four walls, with my breathe alone shaking the inner workings of my rib cage.
I want to hear the echo of my heartbeat in the throats of others.
To engrave my face into the delicate insides of their skulls, indefinitely.
To be memorable— no,
To be remembered.
Because even then,
Even with the strength of ten worlds
Even with the confidence of an idle king,
Even with the assertion of the Ten Commandments.
I am merely but a figment of my own innovation.
Walking in the city seems to only expose lively souls,
where Dim city lights accentuate dull features,
but even then—
Even with the Dim and powerful street lamps of the night cowering before my shadow,
It only seems to cast a dark reflection,
Articulated appearances and dialogues vibrate through the reflections cast by those Dim lamps,
And it was in that moment, I was acquainted with,
Someone I have not remembered
but someone I have chosen to forget
Jan 22, 2021
Jan 22, 2021 at 11:16 AM UTC
A
Strange one
There was a noise of a nuclear bomb and strange screeming by
neighbours.
When peep out the moon coming near to the earth and slowly joining and sinking a little in the Pacific Ocean and
Now the earth and moon look like a Venn diagram
All flight are landing on moon
mistakenly
Within few minutes
All the countries are fighting
for the occupying the extra portion
I just watching TV
Immediately
Our science are changed
No moon
Earth scale redrafted
Most of the poets committed suicide
the only community was happy
was politicians Coz
Now they rule the extended earth
Slowly
Moon getting gravity and water
flowing from earth to moon..
Got up..
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 6:04 AM UTC
today it is love that i have redrafted
today it is a feeling that i have re-envisioned
and let myself for the first time to feel and fill
today it is slowly filling inkwells, going backwards somehow
to refill, to have voice once more
today it is being enveloped, today it is being postmarked
today it is being posted
and let so gently go
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC
I redrafted
myself many times
searching for the elusive post.
Jul 2, 2021
Jul 2, 2021 at 6:56 AM UTC