Poetry

I thought it would be nice to add some poetry to spice it up. I'm very big with freeverse, so if "unstructured" poems upset you then this is not for you. I'm an emotional writer. Most of the stuff I've written has been during certain moods and reflections. You'll see...just read on.

Autumn

Sweaters never felt so good
As I rest among the wind which is
Carrying silvers and golds, emeralds, rubies and topaz,
It whirls with no set direction
A distinct lingering odor (of slight decay and cedar)
Crunching underfoot
Falling like lasting snowflakes
Each one unique

Deciding its time to break free,
Jumping with no parachute
And landing in no particular direction
Just to ride the air currents with the birds
What a time to go sailing
What a wardrobe!
(And colors of a crown!)

I am here with quill and ink
An oversized journal
And incomprehensible thoughts
Pondering with my feet in the grass
And my back against a trunk
Thinking. Writing.

This is California snow:

The gold. The red. The brown. The yellow.
The subtle hints of green
Crisp as new one-dollar bills
Falling from overhead
In the form of a leaf

----

Scarlett

They whispered under the letters he wrote
Heavy. Blotted. Sepia.
Erasures never found so permanent
Watermarked in the salutation
In between the lines
Hieroglyphics hide
Extra punctuation
The difference of indifference
Weathered brown edges
Enduring the wears of time
Uncovered under magnification
Resolution comes in depressed shadows
Pits and crescents and undotted "i's"
Light passes through the darkness
Pierces through the cotton fibers
Illuminates the cursive creed
Inkwells and nightstands
Isaac left his evidence

----

Pen and Ink

Between point A and point B
I noticed the motored rails
Deciding the fate of my destination
The consequence of attempting and
The dysfunction of mundane
Do we love because we must,
Or because we chose to?
To avoid loneliness?
To feel complete?
Or to simply love?
Static. Consciously arranged
Kiss me on your couch
Smile when we’re at your mothers
Hold me in the movies
Somewhere between our verticals and horizontals
All we’ve formed is right angles
Rigidly lined up against the ruler
All these grids and eraser marks
Are driving me insane
Why don’t you trying drawing me in pen?

----

A Victim: Used

It breathes it's last; it's first to be.

Life's end begins a new eternity

Eyes of blind are opened to see

The haunting tales to mystery

What's first is last and last is to start

The open mind is an opened heart

There's one of you and two of us

A third to torture, a fourth to bust

You conceal your feelings until they explode

Empty out the other load

Words slip out. Anger is abused

But that's okay..you've been a victim: used

You feel the beating of old time

Embrace what joy was there

Now as you look into it all

No one could care

Hope is what feeds you life

Sighs are what you use to breathe

You're so much different inside

But they don't look underneath


Well that should suffice for a VERY long time...Whoever reads this is lucky. I'm not so great at letting others see my "spilt guts".

-Laura

My school doodles

During school, I don't have much time to devote to extremely time consuming projects, so I've been doing a lot of ink drawings with Sakura Micron pens and when feeling daring, coloring them in Prismacolor Markers. These girls (and some guys) have sort have become trademarks. There's more behind the ink than meets the eyes. I don't just draw them because I want to, I draw them because I feel the need to. It's more a calling and not a therapy. I hope you'll enjoy seeing them all.


-Laura