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My Poetry
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Brand Spankin New Stuff...by Me
Know Me?
You know me very well,
So you seem to think,
But you can't see me when
I try to sink.
You watch me
While I play,
You're happy when
I stay,
But you don't know
How sad I get.
Because we've only
Just met.
You think I'm happy when
I smile,
But you never have
Walked my mile
***
As I stare up
At the black night's sky
I wonder what it'd be like
If I were to die.
The sky right now,
Has not a single star,
And I wonder where
All the lost souls are
****
I don't know anymore
If I'm happy or sad.
I know how that sounds,
It sounds real bad.
Or maybe I'm not
Feeling at all,
Like a cold, cold,
porcelain doll.
I try to think
of me,
So that I might try
To see,
What my emotions are,
But they've gone too
Far.
***
I stare at the forest
As I lose myself
As I put my heart
Away on a shelf.
The trees they grow
So, so high
And they're much wiser
Than you or I.
They know how to
Spread their leaves,
Something,
I can't conceive,
And their roots
Grow deep,
While my heart
Is asleep.
Rock Bottom
I don't think there is
any rock bottom,
So kids,
smoke 'em if you gottem.
Cause I feel like
I keep falling.
Even though I hear,
loved ones are calling.
And I think that
I'll keep going.
I can fall for miles
with out my pain showing.
And if there is
no rock bottom,
Why not smoke 'em,
if you gottem?
~Emily Originals~
*Sick*
Sick again, he's Sick again,
God how could you? he's sick again.
It fills our lives
as It fill his body,
and everything is about It.
don't talk too loud,
what time is his appointment?
if you really love him
you would do the dishes.
because it's Sickness this
and Sickness that
and Sickness everything.
well it makes me cry,
to see him this way,
well it makes him sad,
to see me crying.
i bring the meds
and cups of water.
my heart breaks
cause he's always in Pain
so Sickness, let me count the ways,
the number of ways
that i hate You.
cause he's Sick again,
Sick again,
oh God how could you?
my Daddy is Sick again.
*untitled*
The warm summers breath
Blew across my face,
These were the days before happiness left...
I remember that place-
And the smell in the air-
The freshly cut grass,
It's so far away, it's not fair,
Didn't know it wouldn't last-
Your hand in my hand,
I lean against you to stand-
And it all came down to us-
Our love, Our happiness, Our trust-
There was nothing but time-
It was yours and you were mine,
Then there was everything from love-
You were my lover, my protector, my dove,
I cried so many happy tears-
Because I had no more worries, no more fears-
But eventually I shed a sad tear-
Because you were no longer here,
Then I hugged myself tight-
And said that it would be all right,
So I think of us now,
On this warm summer's night.
*Scars*
It's nothing I can control,
This pain that is bigger than me.
I need it now,
The only thing I can depend on,
For I know,
It will never leave me...
Love evades me
Friendship abandons me,
But Glass is always near by.
It comes in giddy joy,
And brings with it
Red lines and white Scars.
*Help*
If I asked you nicely, would you give me a hand?
Would you, could you, help me understand?
If I asked you in a million and one ways,
Would you stay with me on my sad days?
Would you hold me till i stopped crying?
Or would you simply stop trying...
Could you listen to my nightmare,
And all the other horrors I need to share?
But I am afraid of letting go.
Scared to tell you what I know.
I live with this constant madness,
And the overwhelming sadness,
Every day of my melancholy life,
Riddled with heartbreaking strife.
*Longing*
The Longing, the Loving,
Are all very real.
The Breaking of my Heart
Is all that I feel.
I pray and I wonder,
If it will ever heal,
'Cause the Longing,
The Loving,
Seems so very real.
*Good Morning*
When the sun rises
I can feel its warmth in my soul
I can feel you next to me
And already I know
I know a million things
But not one of them is true
Save one, that I love you
My hand slides across the bed
And up your strong back
When I have you, my love
There's not a thing that I lack
You reach out to meet me
Our fingers intertwine
If I have you, my darling
Everything will be fine.
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Short Story
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Playing Piano
When I was a child, my father was in the army. He was my G.I.Joe, and I was his Barbie doll. My earliest memory of him was watching, in childlike awe, as he polished his black leather boots before work. The green and brown hued uniform that he wore was right out of the movies.
Every morning I would beg him to let me shine his shoes. And every morning he would say, "Not now hon, I'm running late. Maybe tomorrow."
My mom would be in the kitchen, cooking him breakfast. The strong coffee aroma filled the house, accompanied by the sound of frying bacon. As my dad rushed through his morning rituals I would be on his heels, getting in the way. I sat on his lap as he hurriedly ate his breakfast, and wiped his clean shaven face for him when he was done.
Then, my mom and I would stand on the porch and wave goodbye to him, as he drove off to work. As soon as he pulled out of eye site I would rush about my morning, getting ready for school. However, my mom would linger at the door step, drying her soapy hands on a hand towel.
Eventualy she would snap out of her reverie, wake up my sister, and get us ready before the bus came to take us to school.
My mom's day was a full one, and she had her own sort of uniform, however different from my dad's. She donned the glamorous attire of sweat pants and t-shirts, socks and sneakers.
She did the laundry of her dirty husband and even messier children. She swept up after our messes, scrubbed our toilets, and washed our dishes. My mom was the commander of the house, and she kept her troops in order.
One day I came home from another day of finger painting and play-do building to find my dad packing. He had been reassigned. My daddy was leaving.
All I knew was that my dad was in charge of some men, and he and his men were needed in some strange place called Germany.
My mom's eyes were red, and worried. At that time her face was still untouched by the hand of Age, but her first wrinkles were forming. They were lines of sadness, and loneliness.
My dad left the next day. We wouldn't see him again for another year. I missed our mornings together. I mourned on my birthday, when he wasn't there to hug me. I complained on Easter and Christmas. My sister did the same.
My mom, however, held in her emotions. For a long time she never let us kids see her pain.
One bright Saturday afternoon, my sister and I pounced in my mom's room to wake her for breakfast. We found her weeping quietly beneath the bed covers.
I looked at my sister, who was older by 18 months, for support. Mommy was crying. At that time, I didn't know that mommies could cry.
We climbed up what was then a gigantic bed, and gently hugged our mother. Her tears were interrupted by a brief and pitiful laugh. She put her arms around us and squeezed us lovingly.
Neither my sister, nor I knew what to do next. When we were sad, dad always tried to cheer us up. I climbed down to the foot of the bed, where there was an enormous wooden bar.
I had known my whole life, which wasn't that long then, that my mom's favorite song was some old love song that went "I'd rather be blue".
Accompanied by my sister, I sang to her, and played my pretend piano. My fingers banged against the wooden foot of her bed, and I threw my head back and sang. I prayed that she would stop crying.
Another laugh, this time less pitiful, came from my mom's tearful face. She smiled at us, and my heart warmed.
Wiping away the tears, my mom joined us at the edge of the bed. Once again she put her arms around us and hugged us tightly against her bosom.
I breathed in the fresh scent of fabric softener, and lilacs. Looking up at my mom's face I suddenly missed my dad more than ever. I missed him for her, because for the first time, I realized she loved him.
Children don't always understand that. I did at that moment, and I was happy. My parents loved each other, and they loved me too. I prayed for my dad to return home soon, because mommy needed him.
After out song ended, my mom scooped us up, and brought us out into the kitchen, were she made up breakfast. Everything was as it should be.
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