Getting handy with a push broom

I know I haven't updated in a while, and I don't even have a super good explanation for it. Hah. Other than the fact that I've been a little bit more busy with work study at Velocity, which opened up the ability to take more classes for less moneys. I've been getting used to it, things are coming a little more naturally now. And I keep feeling more and more welcome into the dance community there, it's wonderful. I even was given an opportunity to bartend at the last show I volunteered at for the first time. So I am gaining employable skills! Hurray!

Also I have a kind of starter poem that I've been meaning to work on lately and put up, but maybe I will just put up the rough draft and then I can get some input from anyone who wants to give it!


I once heard
the secret songs of trees with you,
their whispers
of all hopeful things.
I felt their joy and desire and peace,
but you heard it and only felt fear.
You could tell
things larger than you, us,
were living and breathing
and sharing with us
their raw honesty.
Maybe
you liked the idea of it,
because you shared the story with your friends
so you would sound
like all the things you wanted to be.
But now I know
you couldn't handle it.
So I went on
to stand
in high places
on dark nights
to hear the mournful bittersweet stories
of the wind and water,
rocks and trees.

In other news I'm back in Port Angeles for a bit, and I'm feeling really thankful for good friends. Friends that are there for you through thick and thin. Life is tumultuous and hard but we will be stronger in the end for it. I am also very thankful for the existence of cupcakes, because without them I don't think life would be as easy to get through. So, cheers to cupcakes and good friends.
And pretty pictures! Got to include my recent pretty pictures.

Night walking

 Self portrait. kinda.

 Sunny day flowers backyard pretty.

 

ALSO THE NEW ANDREW BIRD ALBUM IS OUT, AND THE SHINS. THEY ARE BOTH REALLY GOOD. GET THEM.

Kaybai.

Some Semi-New Poetry and Doggie Pictures

Hey, I thought it was about time I put up some more of my writing, and I also wanted to put up a couple pictures I took of our dog, Hayes, yesterday.

Mid yawn.

Now for poetry.
This one I wrote about a month ago. I didn't title it.

Every time I sleep
I have these terrible dreams
where it's the same as when I'm awake.

But then I walk to you
and you say you love me too
all the time for contact I ache.

We hold hands and smile
keeping it secret all the while
until my eyes open and my heart breaks.

Here's another that's fairly recent- (it's less about rhyme schemes, but more about the sound when read aloud.)

On dripping days like this
I think of you
when everything is so
thoroughly soaked
that we're all fragile as bird bones.
The poetry seeps back into me
around this time of year,
through my feet
and up my body
until it bleeds out my eyes
and fingertips.

If you walk away, I'll walk away...

So I'm sure anybody who's reading this knows that an unexpected turn of events has left me single. I'm not going to delve into it a whole lot, because I don't really know if I could be very articulate about my feelings yet. However, it's a good time for poetry. Some of this is old, some of it is new.


Untitled (I wrote this about a month ago, surprisingly, before the break-up. It seems to fit though.)

Then you left my side
with that look in your eyes
afraid that you wouldn't come back.

I twiddled my thumbs
my mouth feeling numb
and my heart screaming with fear.

No more words to say
just a look and a stay
and a last long squeeze of your hand.

And I left your side
with a look in my eye
knowing it will never be the same.

Yellow Trees (This and the next one were both written within the past couple days)

We met in a place
that we'd never been,
underneath yellow trees
between two logs hidden.

And we held each other
like never before,
underneath yellow trees
on a rocky shore.

We clung onto something
that just wasn't there,
I cried on your shoulder
and you stroked my hair.

After the last kiss
and walking apart,
we turned our backs
and walked off in the dark.

My eyes kept clouding
with a vision of your face,
I fought all those details
they kept falling in place.

I felt like the scene
after a storm had gone through,
the life gone from everything
made to start anew.

Picking up my pieces
my home swept away,
I need to let go of you
but I want you to stay.

So this morning, a heavy frost
snuck into my heart,
I'm afraid if it thaws
I'll fall completely apart.

Even if it hurts
I'm letting it stay,
since underneath yellow trees,
you and your love walked away.

The Window (Yep, same rhyme scheme as the last one. Sorry.)

The window we found on walk
fall leaves beneath our boots,
it stared at us with hopeful eyes
through dust and dirt and roots.

When we walked behind the window
I was curious to see,
what was behind those hopeful eyes?
It was our future- you and me.

Now I've decided to visit
that clairvoyant place again,
the muddy prints beneath the frost
are all the leaves have left.

Those hopeful eyes still gazed at me
more melancholy in them now,
maybe it was my imagination
or the surrounding snowy boughs.

I didn't need to search behind it
to know what I wouldn't find,
I went ahead and looked there still
but to provide my peace of mind.

And I realized then
no miracle happened there,
just my own hopeful eyes
and my own hopeful stare.

The past can be forgotten
but it cannot be replaced,
bits and pieces are left standing
never to be erased.

(And that's it for now.)

The inspiration for that last one was an actual window left standing that we found one day.

Again- criticism is appreciated!
No definition of perfection this time. Heh. Kind of difficult to find that right now, although I don't doubt it exists.

Hey, I wrote something!

Alright, so not much has been going on that anybody really wants to hear about. I've been working for my dad's company, thenewBlank, doing some production management type stuffy-stuff. Yep. Yayay. This weekend I'm visiting Port Angeles for my mom's birthday, my boyfriend's band's debut concert, and probably some visiting of friends that are back for Thanksgiving. So I'm looking forward to that.
In the meanwhile, I wrote a poem kind of thing today! I haven't in awhile! So I'm excited!

Untitled

I've stood here countless times before
one of them with you
so why is it
that's the only one I can remember?
That time, I took a picture
of the skyscraper with the rounded top,
straight in front of us, me,
against a bright blue sky with white clouds.
It was cool that day.
I tell myself
I remember that only
because it is always cool,
in Seattle.
Tonight, it stands
against a charcoal night.
The leaves on the trees planted in the sidewalk,
illuminated by lamposts,
are bright,
bright yellow.
Especially against
such black bark
and such charcoal night.
I am more aware of those around me,
but only because
it is night,
not because of the lack of company.
That time,
we rubbed each other's ears, and
talked
of forever.
Tonight, I think
of forever ago,
but only slightly.
I mostly think
of my disheveled hair in the reflection of the busses
as they come, stop, go.
I mostly think of
the bus I am looking for
and why isn't it here yet?
Why isn't it here now?
It was here for a moment,
while I
was a block away,
I saw it whip past me, and stop,
while I ran to catch it.
I was not too slow,
but my bus was too fast,
and- away.
So now I wait.
Other busses come, stop, go
and I direct my attention
to my reflection when they stop,
and to the bright yellow leaves
against the charcoal night
flying straight, fast, in the opposite direction
when they go.

Let me know what you think in the comments! Criticism is appreciated!