My Creative Writing: Poetry

Many of my creative pieces can be linked back to the specific songs that inspired them, and this one is no exception.  Music can evoke such potent emotion, and I love letting that emotion just carry me away.  As always, I appreciate each and every comment and critique!  Thanks for reading!

 

Cursive Lines

sometimes I wonder what it is
beneath my ribs
that beats and flutters so
and rises with the words
of a crooning song,
the lyrics a cry for freedom
the notes a bid for flight

it feels as though it wishes to burst,
as if
(if it swells any more)
I will rise on its current,
floating away in the wind,
the freest bird in the sky

but the cold of the world
drags me down –
the beat within the white cage
labors on,
the fluttery throb of hope
all but lost

for though I reach out,
my fingers grazing the rough edges
of my unfulfilled dreams,
they tease my fumbling grasp
and withdraw
out of reach

I wish to sing,
to let my voice be carried
to the ends of the world
as my inky fingers
dip again into the feathery depths
of the well of my inspiration,
my fingerprints everywhere
touching everything
everyone
with the words of whispered rhymes
and heart-rending tales

who hasn’t wished
for the beautiful dreams
that haunt the gold of sleep
to come true at last?
but ah, few get
the reward of white doves
and the chance to dream on

I wish that the beauty
                                                         higher

                                                me

of cursive lines would  take
as the sun in my heart burns on
longing for what?
its own song is a complicated string
of arpeggios and dissonant chords
that beg for my attention
as my mind wanders
following the flapping wings
of my fleeing fantasies

no diamond tears
or crystalline cries
will make the music of my heart
and the ink of my soul
translate itself into the weeping voice
and dancing fingers
of my wandering dreams

yet still I wail and    s  t  r  e  t  c  h    out my hand
toward something that seems
to move slowly away
an enigma of the flowing river
its caresses cold and gentle
against my bloodless body

so yes, I wait
as the condensation
of all that I wish to be
falls on the ground of
who I am.

 

 

 

~   fly me away
on wings of old
up to stay
among the stars so cold

on wings of white
and dreams that soar
show me the sight
of what flying is for

My Creative Writing: Poetry

Ok, I must admit that I’m really excited about this post.  This week’s piece of poetry is “balloons and fairy wings.”  Of all the poetry I’ve ever written, this one is my favourite. :3  I realize that in saying that, I’m setting myself up for high expectations from my readers, but I’m going to say it anyway!

This poem also happens to be one of the few pieces I’ve read aloud, so if you’re interested in hearing it, here’s the link: https://soundcloud.com/mistressofquills/balloons-and-fairy-wings.

Anyway, I always love and appreciate comments on the quality and writing I display in the “My Creative Writing” posts, so thanks for reading!

 

balloons and fairy wings

I wish emotions
could be tied to words
the way they’re tied
to memories:
like the way strings
are tied to balloons
or the way wings
are tied to fairies’ backs –
with a bow and a knot
so the words
are never forgotten
and the emotions
that swayed the heart
and captured the soul
at the time of their birth
are never lost to the snatching,
jealous fist of time

you see, it’s quite a journey
being born as a writer’s words:
you open your eyes
to a world of vivid color
and (sometimes)
crippling emotion
feeling the sharpness of reality
hearing the noise
of a deaf world weeping
tasting the tang
of an infant’s breath of old air
and noticing the scent
of a cruel, unsympathetic universe

an infant word
is like an infant star:
when you grow
(and become loved
by your Creator)
you mature to shine
with your own beauty –
a brilliance
to which very few things
can ever compare

yet you are distant
and your light so very cold…

but I love you
and the stars
anyway

My Creative Writing: Poetry

Finally I’m getting to show you some poetry that isn’t ancient history!  I feel like I’ve come a long way in improving my poetry since I started writing it regularly, so it’s nice to look not-so-far-back and feel good about the quality of these pieces.  Today’s poem is one that I wrote in March, called “I Never Said I Was Ordinary.”  As always, I would really appreciate comments about the poem’s quality – what works and what doesn’t?  Does the meter flow well?  Do the images make sense/ are they clear to you?  Do the rhymes work?  Is it too long/ are there parts you think are unnecessary?  Thanks for reading!

 

I Never Said I Was Ordinary

you look at me as if there are stars in my eyes
blinding you with an unknown brilliance~
at least, unknown to me.

you say I don’t know it, but that I am wise
and I push you to the limits of resilience,
though I am too far gone to see.

you say the glimmer in my heart
shows itself in my written art,
yet I can’t see what it is I write,
as though my mind takes flight.

for though you see an innate beauty in me,
I only see what my eyes perceive~
if that is truth, then so be it.

I only see the world in its reality
with all the pain of humanity it can conceive
and the fleeting beauty within it.

my mind roams amongst the sea mist,
floating like a bird o’er the water, sun kissed
so yes, my eyes take on the absence
and glimmer with the reflection hence.

you say I am noble, radiating poise,
that I show a dignity born of confidence –
if I do, it was born of a once profound disquiet.

you say my voice is light and lilting, a sweet noise,
that my words leave you listening in suspense,
but I only hear the beauty of the still and quiet.

my dear, I am simply crying to the moon,
aching to sigh and sing and croon,
my voice rising with the song of a faery –
for, my love, I never said I was ordinary.

My Creative Writing: Prose

Hey everybody!  Since I have a few more days before my next school-related post, I thought I’d start up my creative writing posts again!  This piece I’m going to show you is the first section of my new flash fiction series.

The point of the series is partly for description practice, partly for character development practice. The characters in it will always go unnamed because I want to practice creating characters who are unique and dynamic without the help of a lot of background and history (which inevitably comes with names). We’ll see where this goes, but for now I’d love feedback on the settings and scenarios I’ve created – are they clear and easy to visualize? Does the plot make sense? Does the amount of mystery I’ve added bring confusion or suspense?

Thanks so much for reading!

 

In the Night – Section 1

As she walked home that dark night, the rain puddles reflected the light of what few stars could be seen in the sky above London’s great city lights.  It was pretty, she thought, but sad that so much beauty could be lost because of something that was beautiful itself: light.

She sighed, and hummed a few notes from a song written in minor chords.  A weeping song, she thought every time she heard it; a song of writhing emotion and contorted feeling.  That’s how she felt now, walking home from the party.  Funny how something of a merry nature could make one feel so contemplative and melancholy.  She smiled a little sadly at the thought.  As contrary as the sentiment might be, she loved it for its truth.

Thus lost in thought, she didn’t notice the shadow that didn’t move, the darkness that shouldn’t be, the still that shouldn’t be silent.  A smirk made the corners of his mouth lift in the dark perversion of a smile as his hands began to tremble in anticipation of his crime.

Still oblivious to her peril, she walked on, her mind lost on a cloud of intricate thoughts, her senses tuned in to the smell of rain, not the garbage that filled the alley.  Her forget-me-not eyes saw only the yellow lights shining on the craggy bricks of the buildings and the little slice of ebony sky above their spires.  Her ears heard the noise of a city full of a unique and diverse people, not the clumsy sound of a man’s footsteps treading in the pools of water she had admired not so long ago.  Her tongue vibrated with the song she sang, filling her heart with the music of a dreamer.

But all cannot happen as it was intended to, for fate is not a thing to be predicted.  It laughs at the chances it gets to use the blind side of things and mangle what might have once been order into chaos.

The feet that so innocently skipped through the puddles turned a corner, and her figure disappeared from his sight.  He growled under his breath and quickened his pace, rushing around the corner after his prey.  But there she was, still wandering in her imagining dreams, and yet… she was no longer alone.

This time she felt the presence of her pursuer, but as she turned her head, all she saw was a ragged figure breathing heavily as he leaned against the corner of the building she had just come around.  He wouldn’t dare follow her with any of his previous intentions now – she had led him away from the forbidden alleys and out onto a common but very busy street.  Vendors selling dessert pastries and beer to passers-by, taxis screeching by with their glowing yellow signs, people meandering along the cobblestoned street with scarves and long coats to cloak their individuality.  She was swallowed up in the throng, and he cursed, his resentful eyes not on her, but him.

SoundCloud – Reading My Poetry

Hello all!

I’ve recently been doing something new with my poetry – something that has been picking up in popularity within the literature community on deviantART (my most active site).  Usually the words of a writer are confined to the page on which they were written and the hearts and minds of the readers, but recently I’ve been experimenting with recording myself reading my own poetry and then posting the tracks online for my readers to listen to.  I’m using a site called SoundCloud to do this, and I think it’s proven to be a success so far.  My deviantART readers were thrilled to hear their favourite pieces read aloud, especially by me, the author, so I’m hoping my readers on this site will like it too!

The first recording I did was of my poem “Untitled.”  I’ve posted that piece here before, but I’ll re-post it below for those of you who like to follow along as something is read aloud to you!  The link for the sound recording will be right above the poem.

Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think of this idea!  I’ve done several other recordings so far too, so those will be posted sometime in the near future!

 

https://soundcloud.com/mistressofquills/untitled

 

Untitled

1.
inexplicable things
that we sense
like wings fluttering
in the shadows

or chest rising with the effort
of feeling

crystal chandeliers
so fragile in the wind

shards of memory
piercing the stillness
and screams silenced
with agony

the lashes to our eyes
hurt and bleed

come again
and wound me

so close to breaking
I can see the cracks.
they widen
and begin to disintegrate

the holes patched
the pain “forgotten”
(as if things
like that can just go away)

I see light
cold and clear through dry eyelashes
whispers in the ink
and music that sings

2.
inexplicable things
darling and sweet
unmistakable
…and there

I see the light in your eyes
I hear your warm heart

I know your thoughts
…I feel you here

there it is
on the raven’s wings:
happiness…
on the feathers of pain

I can see the black
far away

but always close
as a dream (nightmare)

I am not lost
I can see beauty
light is fun to watch…
dancing in the eddies

hands are warm
inviting and open
new for me and my still heart
who are you?

a new word is mine
never mine before
glass – fragile with color prisms:
happy.

3.
inexplicable things
so incomprehensible
and wrong
opposite and backwards

impossible to understand
I don’t…

a paradox
brows furrowed

flashes and color
exploding
rampant, run wild
and be beautiful

yes or no?
stutter in silence

numb and trapped
words with no explanation

behind the scenes
a fairy (or elf?)
pulls the strings
marionette or voodoo doll?

highs and lows
intense beyond measure
tears and smiles
either or, or even together

what is this creature?
the piano plays on
rising notes
in question

Ramblings and Updates and Poetry!

Yikes…..it’s been a whole month since my last post…..oops.  Sorry guys!  I’m working a summer job right now, and in the time between work shifts, I’m trying to finish a commission that’s long overdue, so that’s why I haven’t been very active.  I guess I might as well say this – I probably won’t be very good at being active until the end of the summer – which for me is late August.  I do intend to keep this blog going, so I’m sorry for being so sporadic, but right now my schedule is too crazy for me to be able to promise regular posts. When I do get on, though, I’ll be sure to show you guys more of my writing!

If you’re the impatient type, though, and you want to see more of my creative writing that what I post here, this is the site that I’m by far the most active on:  mistressofquills.deviantart.com

I also have a facebook for MistressofQuills, and a twitter @mistressofquill  (I know…lame that I couldn’t fit the ‘s’ at the end -.-), and also an instagram (username MistressofQuills) if you’re interested in seeing some of my amateur photography!  I have a tumblr too but I’m even less active on there as I am here….  Hey don’t blame me, if I have too much internet in my life, I won’t have time for writing! (…it’s happened before…)

So!  Follow me on any of those websites if you so desire, and I’ll just continue tryyying to be more active on here…. TRY being the key word.

Now that I’ve rambled enough, let me show you another piece of poetry, since my creative writing is the whole point of this blog(:  This was written last September, so it’s actually a little weird for me to look this far back and see how far I’ve come…  Anyway, thanks for reading, and as always, please let me know your opinion!

 

Lights and Love

If I lit a little crimson candle
for every crystalline tear I cried,
for every shaky breath I sighed
and every time I’ve almost died
when you looked into my eyes…

My house would be filled with light,
and the heat of a thousand flames
that writhe and dance and play games
of flickering fun and flirty aims,
as if to taunt me and my pain.

So I pick them up, one by one,
while they continue their wild dance,
with a deep bow and a little prance,
as if their devious aim is to entrance.
They don’t understand: their purpose
is to light my heart and warm my soul.

They light the pier in a soft glow
that doesn’t rival the moon’s show…
silver brilliance, beams white as snow.
My eyes gleam with tears unknown.

The beauty of the night is lost on me…
the moon, the stars, the candle light…
the little flames dance with growing fright
as they bleed red tears in the night,
their life burning and bleeding away
as I sit there and weep and pray
for the day we are together again.

Because, my love, I miss it when
we could part and say “until then,”
and simply mean the next day…

I ache for that time to return.

So until then, my dear, know that I remember all the tender caresses.
I remember the gentle words, whispered in secret, fingers tangling in silky tresses.
Know that my love lives on, past the forced silence and the painful distance.
That I will wait for you, as long as it takes, for I possess an unwavering persistence.

Live, with those words in your mind,
Laugh, with that promise in your heart…
Love me, till the end of time.

My Creative Writing: Poetry

Hello all!

Well, the summer is finally getting interesting now that I’ve got a weekend job and am in the process of getting employed as a nanny for the weekdays, and now I’m finally making some headway on my commissions!  New stories are coming to mind, and the time is ripe for inspiration!  I’m excited to show you what I create next, but for now we’ll stick to the things that have been written for a while and have been critiqued and improved(:

I wrote this poem after reading most of the book by Wes Moore called “The Other Wes Moore.”  It’s a wonderful story, and it gave me the inspiration to write this poem. Let me know what you think!

“…it’s hard sometimes to distinguish between second chances and last chances.”
– Wes Moore

 

The Street

Under lamps as tall as trees
And loud or laughing conversations buzzing like bees,
There lies an old grey street.

Many a car and pedestrian
Has its cracked sidewalks and faded line-paint seen,
And policemen, gazes keen.

Small children playing ball
As mothers yell warnings, using full names and all,
Summer sun, bright and hot.

But not just as a playground
Has its purpose served, but also drug-dealer spots
And beds for bums, minus cots.

The people wear old eyes,
Jaded, faded, and worn with time’s desperate cries,
Aged beyond rightful age.

Slow steps walk the street,
Shuffling and dragging like nowhere is worth going,
Ash-grey concrete-wandering…

Dull sky and lifeless world;
Even the yellow paint is cheerless, even if it’s curled
In its sharp, winding turns.

Hope is scarce, love more so
And kindness is a thing forgotten in the distant past,
Hiding from people harassed.

These are the grey streets
That crisscross our cities, rain coming down in sheets,
Poverty reigning just as heavy.

The fear is hard to grasp
When you’re from a background and home like mine,
Where safety is benign.

So many different realms
Can exist in the very same city! The change overwhelms
And awakens us to reality.

Looking into the recent past,
So calloused to – and ignorant of – life’s reality we’ve become;
We’ve become so very numb.

What is life really like outside
Our own little personal worlds? What could one little stride
Have changed if it was wrong?

Life’s details and how we cope
With what we endure – these are what seem to decide our fate,
And if the path we walk will be straight.