Old-Timers... Go Back to Blogland

[Sorry in advance. I know this isn't a poem, but I wanted to post it everywhere. :}]

Blogland needs you, my friends.
I miss you.
I miss ALL of the old-timers, and I would just.... LOVE to see you in Blogland again.

Besides, showing up and chatting like you own the place is exceedingly enjoyable :}

I know, I know, everyone is strange and new. I think every time I go to Blogland now-a-days I meet someone new, but hey, meeting someone new eliminates a strange new person to meet. Plus, if we all go back, even it's slowly, even it's once-a-month or less, we'll find each other.

Don't feel like it's useless. Even if you can only hang out for ten minutes, GO. Chat for ten minutes, then leave if you must. Don't disappear forever. Nothing is worth losing your friends because you're just so busy. If you try, I know you can make a little time. :D

Please come back. :]
I love you guys, and Dereksville Blogland desperately needs your crazy, brilliant, fun, adorable, creative awesome-sauce and epica spontaneity!

When you read this, post it on your own blogs [re-awaken the magic of them!] or email it to a friend from Blogland you haven't spoken with for who-knows-how-long.
Let's rekindle the old-timers.
Let's rekindle our own, special place again.
I miss it, and I desperately miss you.

~hugs a million times over~

I hope I see you soon!!!! :D

Poem of the Insane

I thought I would escape

Could escape from this madness

Its tendrils snaking inside my very mind

I thought, I think I thought, at least

And everything’s swirling away

And I’m lost again

There’s nothing quite like the dark

Where the monsters live

Reaching through you

It’s a bleak reality

When you think about it

For too long

The colours all around

Seeping into each other

An obscene spectrum

See the how blind

How detached they are

Let them destroy themselves

I can’t think

Now

My brain stutters

There is nothing

Any longer

But sleep

And the sorrows

Rising

Drowning in despair

And then joining the tide…

Growing up

When I was 6,
Growing up meant, well, nothing.
I was a kid and I knew no better than that.

When I was 8,
Growing up meant getting married.
My mother told me I wasn't a woman until I got married.

When I was 10,
Growing up meant physical changes.
We learnt about it in school, the boys had different classes.

When I was 12,
Growing up meant fending off my father.
The change had hardly begun, yet he made his advances.

When I was 14,
Growing up meant watching my heroes turn human.
I saw him break down and learnt the true meaning of emotions.

Now that I'm almost 16,
Growing up means survival.
Just the kiss of the blade to help me make it through the day.

"Poetry Dump" Isn't Poetic... Let's Call It "Poetry Waterfall." Much better.

I
-->

In the morning,

In the morning I will rise,

Rise unto the dawn,

And with the dancing ribbons of light,

Ribbons of light,

Will the haunts be gone.

II 
-->

There’s silence in my room,

Reminding me to breathe,

Reminding me the world’s on fire

Everywhere but here,

And thought it burns in vociferous pyres,

In this silence there is nothing that I fear.

III
-->

Shooting Stars

I walk along

A starry night

And point to him

A sudden light!

As if surprised

My friend looks up

Into the dark and cloudless sky

Where flashing by,

And breezing past,

A broken star,

A ball of ash,

And on a whim

I make a wish,

And then my friend

Pulls me close

To give a kiss.

IV 

-->

In the dark and in the night,

In the moaning, whistling night

There’s the moon and there’s the stars;

There’s the shadows’ only light

A reflection, an explosion,

Reminiscing time gone by,

There’s the moon and there’s the stars

Slowly dancing in the sky.

V 
-->

Hazy,

Fuzzy,

Dreary,

Young blue eyes,

Staring at the gray trees

With dark patches,

Dark patches,

On their limbs.

Cut glass,

Concave,

In a frame,

A copper frame,

And,

Above those young blue eyes,

Eyebrows twitch

Skeptically.

Crisp,

Fresh,

Clear,

A thousand slender, tender, rushing

Leaves

Stroked by the warm breeze;

Droplets, Blue, lovely

Rainbow

Falling from the puffy

Clouds,

Bursting-!

Like the world’s on fire

Beautiful,

Perfect,

Incredible,

Incredible,

To me.

Grades

I wonder if teachers know
That some students suffer
From anxiety when called on in class;
From suicidal tendencies when alone;
From trauma when shouted at for getting a question wrong;
From panic attacks when they don't understand things;
From triggers when they are forced to observe graphic images;
From depression because of abusive family situations, but just hide the bruises;
But then again, our mental health is unimportant,
We must put our grades over everything else.

(This one's in Hebrew. Felt like sharing this here.)

אכתוב למענך את חד-השיח שלנו. אורכו

כאורך שתיקותינו, בין אם הן מאכלות-כל

או מעכלות-כל, הן צורבות דרך עומק בטני

ומשאירות חור פעור היכן שקרביי היו פעם.

Translates to:

I will write our soliloquy for you. It is
as long as our silences, whether they be all-corroding
or all-consuming, they burn through the depth of my stomach
and leave a gaping hole where my guts used to be.

Poetry Dump

I
Something
That is just new-
A morning full of dew,
The aroma that the rain brings
Sweetly.

II
He comes
Only at night
Toting a dark bundle
With dark intentions is the Boo-
Gie man.

III
I hide my light just
As the night sky hides her
Iridescent stars.

IV
To silence a thousand words would be to burn a picture
To live with thoughts unheard is to cause the fissure
A day without rain is like a day without speaking
You live with the pain though your eyes are beseeching
If the sun shines brightly,  is your mind less clouded?
But when you read a page nightly, is it words that are counted?
Why waste time in a nook when you could be on a hike?
And what becomes of the book that you still need to write?
Ashes to ashes, they say, and dust to dust.
And it's still worth a score of lashes to say what you should when you must.

V
Wind chimes
Tinkling at night,
Brushed by a cool zepher,
Strummed gently by the breeze's touch
Peacefully singing the night to slumber
Til dawn.

VI
Weary.
Heavy eyelids
Creeping like a zombie,
Crawling beneath the heavy covers,
Sleeping...

VIII
The universe is
A creation of wonder
Silence, sound- thunder!

None ever saw it begin,
But then, no one saw it rain
Plop, Splish, Splash, these puddles are plain.

IV
Darkness
Cold rain clatters
The sky just as bright as day
For just an instant! And the drums...
Beat on....

Alive again

When summer's come, and we can see the sun,
Its time to live and laugh and run,
Time to write again, time to take flight again,
Standing on the edge of life, looking out at the scene,
Feeling so serene, balanced on the edge, tipping over....
Into life,

Death's a million miles away, the time will come but not today,
When's life is good, and you feel as if you should,
You can write again, take flight again,
Soaring out across the scene, feeling so serene,
In the palm of your hand, and it feels so grand,
You're alive again,

So go, write again,
Take flight again,
Life's allright again,
I'm alive