I tried writing an abceda---an abdecen--an abcena---um, you know, one of those alphabet poems.

______

any way i say this it won't come out right

because it still hurts as i say it, if you

cared i don't know what would have happened

(darling i miss you)

(even now) i scattered

flowers on your

grave last week--you always loved

heliotropes so i added some purple, and

i

just

knelt and

lifted

my eyes to the sky in the

north where there were clouds hanging

overhead, and i

prayed for you even though i don't

quite know if i should because i never did before (i'm labeled as a nonbeliever even though i do)

remembrances always bring tears--i miss you,

so much and so there are

tears.

underneath the big blue sky,

vertigo-inducing pain,

when you fell, with

x-crossed eyes and hands, i can say it now: it was

your zenith when you fell, it was your

zenith when you fell.

-----

Hazel says earf. Earful? I think she's about had it with my poetry. 

A random little tidbit I wrote... And, also, top!

Loved is she who dares to lend her heart,

Out to those who desire it.

Silent is her secret art,

That captivates all who view it.

Though thanks is few and gratefulness sparse,

The demure mask hides courage and strength.

Like diamonds so clear and rose-hued quartz,

I was rereading part of one of the Books of Bayern--Forest Born, and I wanted to write a poem.

~~

pond lily, morning bird song,

honey-eyed girl

she's always hiding herself, shrinking smaller

into the shadows, becoming

one person, then the

next

always  r u n n i n g

and hurting, never realizing

who she could be if she tried

-she is silent, until she feels she must speak and she

weaves pain with her words, only half-realizing it

or maybe just pushing her conscience away.

no more chains no more rules no more her

anger and superiority feel sweet, words feel

sweet on her tongue, and deception, lying and deceit are

exhilarating.

but then it slips away, leaving

a cold hollow place

she wants to cling to the warmth, the

afteraffects of her feeling so powerful,

but she's not a queen anymore

not anymore

my baby girl, tell me, it'll be okay

she is left standing under a

fir tree and she can't run

far enough

to escape her

guilt

all night, she lies awake

and tries to bury herself, her words

bury herself

bury herself, bury

herself

I wrote two poems about eyes.

details 

asymetrical eyes, left side

doe-like and blinder

heavy eyelids with

reflective gold oil weighing them down

sultry stares, not 

on purpose

eyelashes like petroleum or 

vantablack silk

full circle 

born blue-eyed, baby,

over-saturated arctic waters

sharp northern wind

like how ice breaks like glass

dropped on salted cement

turned green, love,

colorless almost, from a distance

like the last frost on the grass 

she buds

jaded, forest canopy with

fifty percent transparency

soft, doe-like child

topaz undertones, honey,

in her summer skin

citrine

criss-crossed tan lines

reveal the person she once was

before her golden

dark chocolate curls, darling,

take a blade to them

ringlets falling like the leaves

outside 

I'm just going to keep posting poems, probably, because I've been finishing more than usual. Unfortunately I still don't really revise them. 

I wrote this, thinking I'd enter it in the last round of the Poetry Contest...but I missed the deadline. XP 

---

dear amanda--a letter to a friend who changed

paragraph one( how are you, i haven't seen you much

since you changed--how's your life,

remember who you used to be? what we

used to be?

paragraph two( i wish you knew that i loved you as you

were: i can

say it now, i could say it's not too late,

too late to turn back and be her again. but

i don't think you want to.

paragraph three( maybe you had standards, something

that for you was mostly unneeded in my

mind, but i know how you felt. but

darling, i still want you back.

paragraph four( i'm doing okay but as you

know i've started missing you, and yesterday i

remembered how nice it was when you had

your old identity--these days you seem

older, more mature, but only half

yourself. maybe you wanted that but i

find i don't.

paragraph five( i want you back. you won't

see this, probably, but i want you back.

paragraph six( i know you won't believe me:

you didn't have to change

from a friend