Shadow Of May – Thursday Update – ‘Hibiscus Moon’

Back this week with another piece! I’ve been a little under the weather (mostly due to my POTS acting up), but I’m on the mend now. I’ve been at odds with sleep, so here’s a poem dedicated to that.

‘Hibiscus Moon’

Let me tell you about these
Hibiscus dreams I receive every night.
They are the acceptance I give every
Time I sleep – falling into the nothingness,
Tare-like void of a tired out existence.

These hibiscus dreams,
A sweet and sour sugar mix
Of thick, dark, red tea pumping
Through the lines of my consciousness
Like the blood in my slowing heart
As I drift into the fall.

Life is exhausting and I accpet
That I will be awake for most of it.

If you enjoy my writing please try and support me by checking out my book Moth-Like. or my chapbook Simple Acrostics of Silly Desperation available on Amazon now! Also don’t feel afraid to comment or review on anything I post – I’d love to hear from you!

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Shadow of May – ‘Hard Sleep’

Today starts the first day that I am honestly attempting to post a weekly piece. Let’s see how long it lasts. This months poems will be jumping off questions from HillBilly Oracle’s May Tarot Challenge. I picking to publish pieces that come out half way decent. I hope you all enjoy!

‘Hard Sleep’

Find me another tree to hang from.
I am tired and want to sleep.
It has been a long road, my work
Almost complete – much more that I
Ever expected of me.

There’s good times ahead, so I promised myself
A big tree to make my bed between it’s leaves.
Night has fallen and I felt an ease on the breeze,
I found wine in the petals of daisies and dandelions
I stole orange honey from sleeping bees.

I drank to die, I drank to dream,
I drank and yet sleep eluded me
So I found myself hanging in a tree I stared
Sleepily out among the chattering woods.
I worked too hard to die in dreams.

 

If you enjoy my writing please try and support me by checking out my book Moth-Like. or my chapbook Simple Acrostics of Silly Desperation available on Amazon now! Also don’t feel afraid to comment or review on anything I post – I’d love to hear from you!

GloPoWriMo – Day Seven – ‘Categories’

So today’s prompt was a little odd and complex, but refreshing to do. I will admit this one is kind of a mess. The prompt was to make a list of the different identities I have and then split them into two groups: Those that make me feel powerful and those that make me feel insecure. After those two groups are identified I was then to write a poem with the two groups having a conversation. I don’t like the current title so I may rename it in the future.. Anyway,  I hope you all enjoy the chaos!

 

‘Categories’

I don’t want you to forget
Who you are,
Who you’ve been.
There’s just been so much to learn
It’s hard to think about sometimes when alone-
Comparing ourselves to characters in books,
How we’ve grown and developed,
What’s our theme, what’s our setting,
Why are we acting this way
What are we trying to save.

There’s so much to know
And everything to explain.
We’ve grown so strong in recent years,
Comfortable, in many ways, a King among
The worlds in our mind. I understand but,
I don’t want you to feel less, forgotten, or ashamed
Of emotions.

But I am – and we know it, no matter how good
We are about making things okay that are better left
Forgotten. We can be the best, you are the best, I know,
A king of your own, ruler of body, mind, heart, but
Listen – I was never the one ashamed, just weary and scared.

I grew lost in existing with my head beside the stars.
I am lost constantly trying to find boxes to perfectly place
Gender, Sexuality, Religion, and Family – where do I stand
Where do I want to go, what to be, how can I fix myself
Before others try more vehemently to fix me.

The past is the past, we both know, but
I can never forget or forgive –
No matter how many books I read,
No matter how many papers I write,
No matter how hard or much I work,
Where we started,
What we started,
And where we’ve been:
A sister, a daughter, a granddaughter, a friend,
A problem child, an American, a quick learner, a hard worker,
An ambivert, asexual, greyromantic, genderless, deadheaded mess.

 

If you like my writing please check out my book Moth-Like. It can be bought on Amazon here.

NaNoWriMo – ‘Multidimensional Love’

Sorry in advance for any formatting errors! I’m having to type this on my phone as I’m traveling.

 

‘Multidimensional Love’

I am a creator of many worlds,
Is it incumbent upon myself that
I treat them all with love.

They are my scars, whole valleys
Baring the lives of thousands I will
Never fully know.

They are my lashes, my hair,
My nails, things that are apart of me,
Yet I am so quick to lose unknowingly.

Whole worlds die and live on my skin,
Little villages, colonies, nations,
And many more inside of me will thrive.

My fantasies are alive, multiple personalities
Branching off of a single curious whim, acted
Out in walking and sleeping dreams.

Tell me, why I cannot love them? Why should
I not love them? Them in all their horrors
And grace – them existing in me.

It’s magic, it’s witchcraft, its power in basic
Realization that I am more than me,
I am beyond a single being.

 

 

If you like my writing please check out my book Moth-Like. It can be bought on Amazon here.

Shadow of May – Day Thirty-One – ‘Circumspection’

So with this Shadow of May is finished, though a day late. I haven’t found anything for June in either poetry challenges or tarot challenges, so I might take the month off as I’ve got to finish up my sister’s book and begin learning Blender to help a friend out on a game she’s developing. If I do take off I will most likely be back in July – I don’t want to leave this place dead for too long. Plus. I like writing semi-daily, it’s become a nice, relaxing habit I’ve developed for after I get off work. Anyway, enough with all the babble. The last prompt for Shadow of May was: What do I need to explore?

 

‘Circumspection’

My life is all about the cost
Of living, living modestly, and working well
For long hours. I leave the living in the little bit
Left over between one work day and the next.
I’m methodical an I’ve no reason to rebel,
I swear, It’s one of those painful sort of comforts-
I got a job and I pay the right price everyday
To keep it, and most days, most days
I only get off feeling sort of dead for it all.
It’d be perfect, if only my heart wasn’t nostalgic
For a place I’d never been but in my dreams,
Of the day and night variety, a dream where I live
And work happily, without conflict and worry
How I’ll balance my bills and what I want to be.

Shadow of May – Day Thirty – ‘Ankyloglossia’

I didn’t want to be late, but whoops. Here’s day thirty of Shadow of May. The question asked was: How do I listen? How do I speak?

 

‘Anakyloglossia’

I learned when young not to listen
To the other kids on the playground-
I was in second grade, aged just eight.
I was tongue-tied – I was born
With my tiny tongue fused to the bottom
Of my mouth, all my words were locked
On its tip, which I couldn’t lift.

They didn’t know, my parents,
The teachers, or classmates. I was slow
And special. They listened just enough
To know I wasn’t right in my words. I learned
I wasn’t right in my words,
And every day I felt betrayed by them
When they tumbled helplessly awkward
From my mouth. I had tried to explain myself
In all those uncertain and clumsy sounds
That I knew, but didn’t trust.
I became so aware of all the little sounds
I made and didn’t. Short tongued and short
Tempered, and ashamed I fought or ignored
Everyone who tried to laugh at or limit
Me.

Eventually,
They cut my tongue free.
Forced it upwards and disconnected me
From what I had become, but in the end,
Ultimately, I had already been taught I could only
Listen quietly to the people around me, and I
Seemed so wise in my silence, that by the time
I was a young adult I was asked often to give counsel,
To give my opinion, my secretly clumsy, distrustful Words,
And I, every time, feel deep anxiety blossoming,
Blooming under my tongue, waiting and fearing
I’d give it wrong.

Shadow of May – Day Twenty-Nine – ‘A Short Story, by Me’

Today’s Shadow of May – and it’s not late! Surprise! The question asked was: How can I learn from my mistakes?

‘A Short Story, by Me’

It’s beautiful outside, I’m sure,
But even knowing this I want to deny
My existence towards the world in a childish,
Petty anger. I’m angry – yes, of course,
Truly! Towards myself most of all,
Sure, but I want others to feel it,
The pointlessness.

I’ll hide in my room every hour instead,
Refusing noise and people by rage reading
Every book I previously stacked in awkward areas
About my room in all the nooks, crannies, and corners.
Pointless, it’s pointless – everything! but the words.
It’s beautiful outside, I know, but I made
Some little, shameful mistake, and yes, I know
That the best thing to do would be to leave
And leave my childishness on the shelf.

Shadow of May – Day Twenty-Seven – ‘Bad Luck’

Late, but not by much! I’m feeling slightly more alive than yesterday and so I’m taking this chance to catch up on the Shadow of May challenge. Yesterday, day twenty-seven, prompted: How do I feel about my accomplishments?

‘Bad Luck’

I don’t mean to brag, but
I’ve got hands on experience
With bad luck. I was born bad,
Unlucky, never ever stopped crying,
My mother swore to me, I never stopped
Until she put me down, shut the door, and
Turned off all the lights, the t.v, and the radio
In the house we never got to live long in.
I was a bad omen baby, she,
Bless her heart, she wouldn’t pick me up
Ever again.

It was my fortune, and I was
Bastardly fortunate, I guess, in some ways.
I learned to lose parts of myself quickly, and
Eventually put in the wounds left behind
More usable things, more unstable limbs.
A quick learner, my teachers would say.
I was such a quick learner, and maybe I was
At some time. I’ve got a few plaques with
My name on them shoved into my closet, behind
Some things I don’t remember ever owning.
Bad luck, I’ve got the experience, so
I think I know when I tell you how
It’s bad luck, to ever assume
I was.

Shadow of May – Day Twenty-Six – ‘Oh Night’

Okay, so I’m trying to power through these and get caught up. I’ve finished day Twenty-six of Shadow of May which asked: What is my direction in life? What is my purpose? Yesterday and today’s are just notes sitting on my desk right now – hopefully not for long.

 

‘Oh Night’

Tell me what it is I’m trying to be,
The Queen, the King, the Knight,
Oh, night! It’s time, allow me to wash
My hair tonight in that icy, icy sea.

Tell me the truth, tell me please,
How there are many kind and gentle things,
People, really, and though I don’t always
Consider myself one of them – often,

It’s every so often that some one looks
With eyes too soft at me, telling me –
Cruel. I don’t want to talk, and so I won’t.
I refuse to be anything but cruel to me.

I like the challenge, oh, it’s a challenge yes –
Let us go wash our hair in the sea, tell me,
Why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I be anything
But cruel to me – I am driven to overcome.

Yes, I want to overcome the life I lived,
But couldn’t live. Is there not something
Beautiful, yes, and cruel, in wanting to be
Something else other than the me I’ve seen?

Shadow of May – Day Twenty-Five – ‘A Light Haunting’

Many apologies – I have been ill the past few days. Still going too, but at least I’m a little livelier than before. There’s probably going to be a number of mistakes and typos, but I can check those out later. The twenty-fifth Shadow of May question was: What three things do I most value?

‘A Light Haunting’

My house feels haunted, is haunted
By me. The soft whispering of my feet are
Still just as uncertain despite the two years
They’ve brushed against the concrete floors
That have supported my slippery shadow as I ghost
Between the front door, kitchen, bathroom,
My room – a path of half-existence taken daily.

Sometimes I see the sunlight drifting
Between the semi-closed blinds by the couch,
And sometimes there is food in the fridge
Waiting for when I remember that I’m alive again-
For no mater how tranquil I feel in my incompleteness
There is an existence outside of work, books, and sleep,
Which might require basic actions of me.

It’s a calm sort of crazy, sort of madness,
Haunting myself, that is, being there and yet gone.
For eighteen years I was trained to be quiet and light
On my toes, so much so that I learned to drift from room
To room. My mother began hanging up mirrors just
So she could catch me every now and then, but years later
I forgot how to stop and, I don’t know if I can – or want to.