My reflection in black mirrors show me Hidden scars and imperfections, but I liked to see myself that way. However, my inner child said to translate my personal Traits on a blank canvas and this was what I Made A youthful goddess with an old soul surrounded by the hues of a purple personality. She was crowned with the shrubs of hydrangea, and her skin was an intuitive indigo. Even in the depths of her cool aroma, I could feel her warm golden heart. That was when it came to me— I was Art! ~a.o.e
poetry
Prose to Poetry (3)
Because when I read,
I don’t really read.
Instead, I pause
To feed myself
A beautiful sentence and
Savor it
Like my grandmother’s lemon drops,
Or I sip it
Like my favorite herbal tea
Until the thought dissolves in me
Like warm medicine,
Infusing brain and heart
And flowing through the veins
to the root of each blood vessel.
Icarus
Why am I burning up, even though I haven’t even had a fire set me to ashes yet? I can’t be crying over the smallest of things, having no motivation to do anything other than nothing.
Why am I sobbing in my room at random times of the day? Aren’t the other people in my life doing so much more and yet succeeding? Where did all my talent from years past go?
And yet, I can’t help with tears streaking down my face, staring at my reflection in my mirror. After all, did I really expect that I would ever have it easy? If I’m not struggling with outside forces, my mind will create its own struggles.
I’m crying over having to do the things I love, and even seeing the people I love. I’m always either flying higher into the sky like Icarus, high on the new feelings before eventually crashing into the ocean below. I’ve never been Daedulus, wise and patient, no matter how hard I try. I’ve tried changing myself again and again to try to save myself, and yet, it seems as if I’m fated to always be the side character who dies in the story.
Flying higher into the sky, then plunging back to the ground at deadly speeds as the sun burns my wings. I fall onto the ground and cry out in pain, then stand up and take off, only to repeat the process again. It’s a cycle of pain, and I don’t know how to escape.
What a world!
This world was never a simple creation. I wonder how it was ever thought of Or if it was ever a thought to begin with. How can a world so big still be so small? What a world this is! Full of life Full of change Full of strife Full of pain Oh! how strange Is this world full of somethings Full of nothings— The creation of a God Or something else unknown. How I wonder, how I ponder If this world is all alone. ~a.o.e
Forever In The Hearts of Many
When they’re gone I could write them a eulogy Or I might write an obituary, Then present it on top of a sanctuary And make the words flow like an estuary. They can be cold like the winters of January Or sweet like the roses of February But since most of their actions were honorary It will be a part of my commentary. Though they may lay in a cemetery, May our memories never be temporary. ~a.o.e
Solo Valentine (delicate self-care)
On the 14th of February I choose myself. Indeed I am my own valentine. Today I spoiled myself With vanilla- and jasmine- scented candles. While welcoming my soul in a warm bath. With that I burn incense Alongside my candles To represent a burning passion for myself— To make my spirit happy. Then I massage my skin with rich Shea And decorate it With a rosy perfume, The loveliest fragrance. Today I wore a long red velvet dress That hugged my waist Followed by red lips Followed by soft hair Followed by soft music Followed by a soft atmosphere Followed by a greeting to myself In the mirror. Looking into my eyes I traced my figure Blessed with graceful curves. Today I was a flower— A sweet and supple flower! So I picked up my lipstick And drew on that mirror A heart on my face in red. Then I wrote below my chin: I LOVE ME. ~a.o.e
Midnight Musings
In the quiet of the night, When the stars shine bright, And the world is still, My mind takes flight. I wander through the memories, Of love and loss and all in between, The joys and sorrows of life, That shape the person I've been. The moon casts a gentle glow, On the path that I now tread, And I feel a sense of peace, As I lay my worries to bed. For in this moment of calm, I am reminded of the beauty, Of the world around me, And the depth of its complexity. And as I close my eyes, And let my mind rest, I know that I am blessed, To be alive and truly blessed.
The Girl and her Grandfather
Waves gently flooded the surface of the sand,
Loud chirps up in the trees combined with a joyful conversation.
Little bare footsteps moved with big, booted ones.
It was a beautiful evening for a walk,
Or to play and build a sandcastle.
Her grandfather’s company was something she would always enjoy.
The comforting sound of his voice
Regaled her kindergarten-age brain,
Typically with stories from his time running a mine.
The sun was beginning to set
So they decide to start heading back,
Much to the little girl’s dismay,
She just wanted to be with Grandpa.
Giggles began to fill the air,
Both the girl’s and the man’s.
To her, no silence was uncomfortable,
As long as her grandfather was there.
Another World
When I read I’m sent to another world
My place, replaced by the book I hold
I can feel the rocky road beneath me and the winter’s cold
See the small village before me and the castle unfold
I can hear the townsfolk talking as the kingdom’s war wages
Meet the wizards, and the witches, and the masters, and the mages
The swarm of soldiers that rages and rages
Fighting for a world that is built from their pages
Later watch in horror as the bashful battle heats
Feel my fingers curl and my heart play the beat
To the sound of striking swords and running feet
Then the sounds of tremendous triumph at the enemy’s defeat
Now I can see folks celebrating with faces bright as gold
As the story comes to a close, now a great sight to behold
And though it happens every time, it never gets old
I love to be sent to another world in
-Apricot
Background: This is a poem I wrote about how I feel when I read. Reading can be such a fun and fantastic experience for me because it allows me to feel like I’m inside the story, or a part of the book’s plot. I wrote this poem to share that experience with others, since I believe it is an experience many people can relate to, as well as because I thought it would be an enjoyable experience to write about, which it most certainly was.
School
School is dreading.
Taking up all our energy during the day
leaving us only a couple hours of rest.
School has been taking up our whole lives
trapping us in an environment where “perfect” is expected
no freedom given
No talking, no collaborating with friends,
no mistakes, no opinions
After school is over, we need to spend hours on homework given to us
Not only homework
after school activities like sports and hobbies.
We have no time to spend time with friends after school
trapped at home.
“Home is the escape from school but
school is the escape from home,”
most say
After school snacks become full meals
lacking food to consume during school
One lunch a day
during a time breakfast is served
no snacks allowed, just bodies suffering
Students crying, sleeping, misbehaving
the lack of motivation to come to school.
Bathroom time limited.
Not being able to go to the bathroom in peace
Yes, education is important
But school is mentally and physically draining
everyone to the point where education is not our top priorities.
CCPL Writers' Block 