Poetry · Uncategorized

Weary in Soul

Weary in my soul, weary in my heart

I’m weary, far too weary to take part,

in the games you play with me.

You don’t think it’s a game,probably.

Because the way you’ve played with my soul

has no effect on you, but it’s taken my toll.

For you, I tried my hardest. I kept my pride at bay,

For you, I have silenced what I needed to say,

For you, I changed my dreams,

but all for naught, it seems.

Should I give up on you?

Can I manage without you?

You have always loved me

but in the end you loved me conditionally.

You have done and given up so much, I know

But you hold it over my head, till I can’t stand not to go.

I am exhausted to the bone,

while I cry all alone.

And when I leave you will find a way

to make me feel worthless for doing it my way.

And when I leave, you will tell me

that I have behaved selfishly.

And when I leave, you will tell everyone

that I am weak, foolish, and on the run,

running from what you say is the right path

How is it right, when it only brings hatred and wrath?

I will go, I will leave

and you will grieve

for your loss, but not for me,

Because you loved conditionally.

 

 

Julie K.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poetry · Uncategorized

Impulse

I am afraid of many things

Chickens, lizards, wasps and bee stings

I am afraid of certain emotions

loneliness, hatred, and obsessive devotions

I am afraid of the genre: Horror

Scary things, my mind likes to store.

But what terrifies me the most

is not something I like to boast.

I am afraid of my impulse to die

the impulse to leave without saying goodbye

the fleeting thought while holding a knife

that passing impulse to end my life.

I am afraid, because when I drive alone

I have the impulse to let the car lead on its own.

Perhaps many people have them as well

but that still won’t make everything all good and swell.

Because there are times I have to think longer

there are times when those impulses seem stronger.

True, they haven’t won me over yet,

because my stance in life is set,

but it scares me that I sometimes think,

“Some day that impulse will hurdle me over the brink.”

 

Julie

Poetry

A Three Year Old

I sit next to a three year old boy.

I am on my phone

he is playing with a toy

I didn’t realize he felt alone.

 

My brain finally noticed a lack of sound

I looked away from my phone

The three year old was looking down

I didn’t think that he felt alone.

 

When he noticed I was looking at him

his small lips that were turned to a frown

flashed a sweet, precious grin

but when I picked up my phone, he looked down.

 

I think my heart was yelling at my brain

“Command your arms to drop that thing!”

because it clicked that the boy was in pain

a pain only emotions and heart can bring.

 

Without looking up, he put his hand over mine,

the hand holding my phone,

and gently pressed down, as if asking for my time.

And then I realized he had felt all alone.

 

He is only three, but he knew I was sitting there,

in a physical state only.

He knew at that moment I didn’t care,

he felt alone, and he is only three.

 

So, I put my phone down

and he, as he cuddled closer to me

lost his furrowed brow and his frown

and played with his toy happily.

 

Now when I am with that sweet boy,

I can’t look at my phone,

because I can’t forget his joy,

when I finally put it down.

 

 

 

-Julie

 

That kid is actually pretty smart. He doesn’t look dejected when I am doing school on my laptop. He doesn’t look sad when I am talking on the phone. He only looks abandoned when I am simply killing time. He taught me what I already knew, that people are so much more important than useless browsing. And  that children are little humans with big emotions. They can feel abandoned when you are right next to them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poetry · Uncategorized

Idle Words Bring Down Worlds

“They are only words” you say, “not meant to be taken to heart.”

A tease, a joke, a careless word, a laugh that you take part.

You say it as a passing word it doesn’t mean much to you.

you don’t think it matters to others, what you do?

But deep down, if you knew, would you care?

Would you mind how the others fare?

Would you care that you’ve hurt someone deep,

if you knew that they were hurt could you still sleep?

If someone, because of you, was in pain

could you say those words, do those things again?

Or would you just shrug it off, saying we do what we do.

Does it really mean nothing to you?

It doesn’t matter if you’ve pushed someone down

as long as you can swim while they drown?

You push yourself over someone so you can stand

Using a tool meant to build up to tear down. your own hand.

Is it your way of explaining that you are better than someone?

That you can claim to better than at least one.

In so doing you proclaim yourself judge just to say “I am better than you.”

Who are you to decide who is better? Do tell. Who?

Does not every human have reason to live?

Does not human have something to this world to give.

You say that it is their fault that your words hurt

that it is because they’re inferior that they can feel like dirt?

I wonder if you looked at them, looked at their tears

looked at their bleeding hearts and their fears

looked at their breaking soul and shaking hands,

their insecurities wrapping around them like chained bands

looked at the walls closing in around them because they feel so alone.

Saw that they turn around to be beaten by their life’s pain grown.

They cry out because all they need is a purpose

and they find nothing with eyes glazed over, listless.

They are just words you say, did you say them from the kindness of your heart?

What else are words for but your thoughts to impart?

There is no such thing as an idle word.

Don’t you know it was words that started this world?

And in the end it is words that will bring it all down.

They are words you say?

Words are what make or break a day

idle words, thoughtless words, simply a trifle

a harmless word that kills like a rifle?

you think words cannot destroy or kill?

Words don’t take thought, and they don’t need skill,

they are spoken in haste, in a jest

and they cannot be stopped by a bullet proof vest.

Words will kill, if you let them slip through.

Does this still not matter to you?

Perhaps it doesn’t right now, but it will

when someone’s words render you still.

When in anger is said a word

that strikes a painful chord.

Maybe then you will start to think

of all the words you’ve said that can lead to the brink.

maybe than you will be kind

before blurting out words in the blind.

Because the words we say

will eventually make us pay.

 

Julie K-

“If you propose to speak, always ask yourself, is it true, is it necessary, is it kind.”

I’m not so sure who the author of this quote is, I’ve seen a lot of different names attached to it. I do believe though that if mankind could take this to heart and use it, this world would be so much better off. A lot of people underestimate the power of words. And some people know it has power and still say horrible things. I know there is a Proverb from the Bible that says “He that keepeth his mouth keepeth his life: but he that openeth wide his lips shall have destruction.”

Take caution in what you say, and filter the words you hear. So you can be both kind and strong.

 

 

 

Poetry · Uncategorized

An Attempt at Something Gothic

Father tells me not to swing at night,

I don’t listen.

Something dark remains in the corner of my sight,

I turn my music up louder so I don’t hear my name.

 

Momma heard the groaning of the swings at midnight

Momma heard the squeaking of the trampoline at midnight

momma heard the creaking of the see-saw at midnight

she doesn’t dare look out there

she doesn’t want to know what’s out there.

 

The shop light is on, it is always on

we dare not go in to turn it off

perhaps it is hiding and will not run

but we won’t turn the light off.

 

I live in a room that has a locked door

at night I think I hear a knock,

at night i think I hear  creaking,

at night I think I hear footsteps

I don’t look when I hear it,

I pretend I just think it.

 

Why do we never see spiders standing still?

What are they so afraid of,

that they never stand still?

I hope I never know.

 

The cats want outside,

but they dart back behind the couch,

the lizards are still, they listen, and then they hide

what did they hear, I don’t think they’ll say.

 

Father tells me not to go out to swing at night

I listen.

The swings still groan.

 

Julie K.

Here’s an attempt at something new. I will probably never do it again, but it was fun trying it out! (=

Uncategorized

Escaping from the Escape

I am tired, ever so tired, ever so.

My escape is now what I must escape from,

and I never made plans to go.

My escape used to be the peaceful hum

Of the wind gently coursing through the trees.

It used to be the small waves gliding onto the shore.

It was a haven and I was the only one with the keys.

But now there are bars on the door,

and I cannot get out, I cannot.

The place was once my beautiful escape.

It was the refuge and the solitude that I sought.

It was my hero with a billowing cape.

But now the wind is tearing down the trees.

The waves are crashing rocks to pieces on the shore,

and the door willfully stands against my keys.

My escape once clean is now filled with pain and gore.

And all I want is to get out, but I can’t get out.

My escape, the dream that was used to flee from reality

I cannot now tell you what it is about.

I now know, to me, this world has never sworn fealty.

This world, I made up in my mind, has a mind of its own.

And I cannot escape the hold it has on me.

Because alone, I created it, and now I suffer by it alone.

And how can my thoughts let me be?

How can I silence this monstrous mind of mine?

If you know, I beg of you to tell me now.

But I guess I’ll be fine. Should I say that I’m fine?

Because, I want to escape but I don’t know how.

Uncategorized

My Favorite Place

In my backyard is a swing set

My father put it together years ago

That thing will last longer than I will, I bet.

On that swing, I forget my troubles below,

as I swing higher and higher

Sometimes I swing until my tears are gone

I imagine the trees to be sentinels and the stars to be fire

And if I could handle the cold, I’d stay till dawn.

Because there is no other place

where I can simply breathe and think or not think at all

where no one can see the smiles or tears on my face

Where I can pretend I’m a giant and all my problems are small.

 

-Julie