Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ha! Didn't forget today.

Pillage
I’m bound
And when the one thing goes
The rest go with it
‘Tis not physical goods
To which I refer
But rather to those feelings
Long enshrouded inside
And so you’ve taken
All the riches
Which my vessel contained
And now all that remains
Are barren, peeling walls
And floors
Covered in dusty footprints
The only sign to mark the path
Of another in my heart

The Calm That is The Storm
Crystalline droplets fall from roiling mists
Gathered high in the heavens
And as the droplets meet the earth
They shatter like fragile crystal
Breaking into thousands of shining prisms
Until they gather like old friends
Upon the dampened ground
And flow down the street

Long streaks fire through the air
Like angry beasts
Lashing at each other
And lighting the sky
Their massive bellows
Slowly fading into silence
As they rend and rip a path
Wherever they meet

And chilling howl
Breaks the still air
And whips everything around it
Into a horrific frenzy
Leaves and dirt
And other assorted pieces of earth
Creating small whirlwinds
That blind all who encounter them

And somehow there is peace
A sense of calm in the frantic chaos
Something about it that gives time
To reflect on the past
Revel in the present
And enable the future
To become a time of greater understanding
And peace

I also wanted to post the lyrics to a song. If I had a theme song, this would be it. It's so good it deserves it's own post.


Is it Real? By: The Seatbelts
Figurines that fall like leaves
Then disappear
Keep calling
Is it real? Is it real?

Dark machines that wheeze and breathe
Then mock the air
Appalling
What is real? What is real?

This world can really be too much
I can't take another day
I guess that I’ve just had enough
My minds slipping far away
I'm falling in and out of touch
Can someone please explain?

Set my mind for open sky
But couldn't fly
So sadly
What am I? What am I?

Sullen eyes shed tear-drop lies
Then criticize
Now laughing
What is real? What is real?

It's really all become too much
I'm not sure what I should feel
I guess I've finally had enough
I don't know if this is real
I'm crashing in and out of touch
Can anyone explain?

I'll be the first to admit this is by far not one of my best. It seems to get harder to write a new poem every night without repeating subject matter over and over again.

I also seem to be lacking sources for inspiration aside from the drained and lonely feeling I've been having frequently. Not exactly the fuel for great poetry. I thought of taking a break for a while, but then I feel like I'm forgetting to do something and I can't sleep.

I think writing poetry makes me feel like I'm dong something worthwhile even though I know I'm not. Oh well, here's the poem. [/rambling, incoherent thoughts]

I Think It’s Fall Again
The lights are on
But nobody’s home
And he can’t stop thinking
About what should be done
Eyes glazed over
In a permanent stare
Forever being asked what’s wrong
And replying automatically
“Nothing”

Insomnia
Sometimes I’m too tired to sleep
And I drift through the darkness
In a haze of thoughts

Reflections of my own past
Imaginings of the future
As well as of the impossible

I try to think sleepy thoughts
And manage only to intensify the restlessness
That burns like a luke-warm flame

I pace through my small living space
Take out a book and put it away again
Turn on my computer to turn it off moments later

And still I can’t sleep
I watch my clock click to 3:00AM
The little colon flashing

I decide to try again
And if I’m lucky
I finally fall into sweet darkness

I really liked "Circumspect Minuet," it was interesting. I especially like dance steps warked in every couple of lines "Step, step, turn" etc. The fact that each dance step line was different gave it a nice flow while not getting repetitive.

I thought the last lines of "Unbridled Sortie" were good. They really made the poem for me.

I've only read a few of your poems so far, I'll probably come back later to read more.

I'm glad you liked them.

My personal opinion is that they get better for a little while after "Unbridled Sortie," and then go downhill. I've been depressed lately and really haven't had a lot of inspiration. Hopefully I'll get over it.

I was planning on not even posting a poem today, but then I felt guilty about it. I don't know why, but I did.

WARNING: Before reading on, keep in mind that the flow of the following poem is very poor. I don't normally write rhyming poetry, but I decided I should give it a shot.

Now here's the thing about my poetry, I'm not one of those people who gets really into it. Sure, I've written a poem every day for the past 24 days or so, but I don't really go back and do a lot of editing. I'm not a "perfectionist" so to speak. So while my poetry may get better over time (so long as I have some sort of inspiration), I'm not going to try to make every poem perfect.

I'm human, just like everyone else, and I doubt anybody makes a perfect poem with a perfect flow that inspires people everywhere during their first run. As I haven't done any rhyming poetry in a VERY long time, I consider this a first-run.

So take the poem in stride, if you like it, you like it. If not, I can't really blame you, but don't go flapping your lips about how terrible it is, I already know.

Friends, Lovers, Friends
The candles flame flickers and dies
As she sits in the chair, a tear in her eyes
He said he was sorry again and again
And had no idea how this could begin

It was a while ago that those two had met
On all hallows eve dressed, he couldn’t forget
Their eyes had chanced upon each others
And from that moment on the two had been lovers

Countless tender moments that now had been shorn
Their relationship strained, frayed, and torn
And somewhere beyond a long time from now
Perhaps things will mend, but I don’t see how

And so as all good things, it comes to an end
And the two stay together each as a friend
And yet every time he looks at her smile
He remembers them as two, and thinks a while

EDIT: I should make a note that I don't have a problem with constructive criticism, I just don't take well to mindless insults. If anyone wishes to make any suggestions, I welcome them. I won't make a promise that I'm going to change something just because someone makes a suggestion, but I will certainly take it into account for future poems.