van gogh nights

the heavens seem

closer than they usually do-

peridot and indigo hued, the

soft rustling of bottle green leaves made kinetic by

lazy shadow-slinking creatures

eyes so wide and

gold-strung binary-star blinding,

piercing heavy lidded irises poking

through night's sleepy breath

they crawl up with short brushstrokes

over ultramarine hills

the colors of the sky painted

in their hearts

~~~

Author's Note: Inspired by The Starry Night, if you couldn't guess. 

Night’s Time

By Balck Alley

Darkness enveloped my head

I could scarcely see

The moonlight turned blood red

Gushing down on me

The stars in the heavens were falling

Plunging one by one

The days ticking by were crawling

No one had witnessed the sun

Is this what we got?

Is this our reward?

For spilling out our sweat

Training with the sword?

We had slayed the mighty beast-

Many months ago

We gloried with a feast

Yet lo and behold

The beast was the sun

He brightened up the day

And now that he was gone…

Nothing could scare Night away

Night ruled o'er the earth

Tomenting all living things

His reign had given birth

To many vile beings

Mortals had their flaws

But we just slaughtered the sun

Now we’re seized in Night’s claws

He’s dismantling us one by one

Fire gushed from heaven

Consuming all in its path

Until there were only seven

That survived Night’s wrath

Life for us was hopeless-

When we killed our star

But that’s the tariff for selfishness

It leaves a ghastly scar

We had learned our lesson

But alas, it was too late

Now I’m the last living person

And I’m sealed behind death’s gate

I've posted some stuff on here, so I suppose I qualify as a poet if you'd like to write about me, Leafpool. You have my permission.

~Starseeker 

dear daughter, be perfect and always brush your teeth

——

breathe, just breathe,

so quiet, be quiet,

make yourself small and silent and

nestle deep into the hollow space in your chest where

there’s nothing left

to feel.

(she curls her emotions tight and tidy

into ringlets, synthetic as a model’s perm)

soft, spot, still your head,

be okay, be

good, be good, be good—

enough?

not quite.

do your homework, eat your veggies,

follow the rules and keep that broken heart beating.

keep your head down,

keep your shoes tied,

watch your step, darling, watch your step,

follow the rules,

enough is all you need.

(she tucks her sadness into her pockets

and keeps it there)

potential, wasted, don’t you want a challenge,

don’t you want to be more than enough?

(but sometimes when she reaches for her phone

she pulls it out instead)

enough, enough, enough, of course you do, but

some days it’s a challenge to get out of bed in the morning

some days it’s a challenge to keep breathing.

(what if everyone could see)

you hide hide hide, don’t let them see.

inhale, exhale, left, right,

one step at a time, one day, one life,

it’ll be over soon.

(what if everyone could hear)

polish, polish, make it shine,

make your hands new and pretty

and fill up your cracks with half-smiles.

proud bravado, please be real,

be good enough for once.

(would they look, would they listen)

stare right through please with those

glassy eyes glassy eyes

pellucid fragments please

don’t notice, keep still they’ll see please

polish polish smile for the cameras please

be quiet, so quiet,

breathe.

(or would they just hate it too?)

just breathe.

Flying Kites on a Spring Day

~~~ 

i. i came here to fly a kite.

ii. instead i was

captivated

by a haunting melody

iii. a blind man's instrument

iv. he can't see me standing before him but

he can sense me

somehow

v. he has a sheet of chinese characters at his feet

but i can't read it

and i whisper to my mother to read it to me

but

she tells me its impolite 

vi.  coins

clinking in the pail

i can't read his life story but i know it must be hard to have to live blind

off the charity of human hearts

which isn't very much

not at all

vii. the music stops

murmured words of gratitude

for lunch money

food for a week 

viii. skipping away

my kite limp in my hands

ix. i came here to fly a kite. 

I haven't post anything in awhile: here's a prose-y poem-ish thing: 

i. home is my time capsule: feel the chipped granite counters, the tarnished stove still bearing remnants of burned caramel, dents in the hardwood floor from antique furniture 

ii. home is my time capsule: smell the sawdust and pencil shavings, the scent of dog everywhere, themed candles permeate the cold November air

iii. home is my time capsule: hear the creak in floorboards even when you’re trying to be as quiet as possible, listen to the rhythmic drip of the leaking faucet we never tried to fix

iv. home is my time capsule: taste the dust spiraling through the sunlight, the air outside: crisp, untouched by machines and factory smoke

v. home is my time capsule: see the chipped paint front, the hole in the porch, the cracked framing on the window: bright colors and laughter 

vi. home is my time capsule: remember