It's been awhile

I know it's been awhile since I posted, but I've been busy with my final papers for my senior seminars as well as on spring break. But I've still been writing. I wanted to post once more before I move over to Tumblr. I will make sure when I make the switch I post what my link is there.


Change

Submit to the continuous cycle
of the icy air
turning the leaves gray and lifeless,
the rain bringing back the buds,
and spring rotting into summer.
The tulips and the daffodils decay
falling onto a dehydrated path.
A path of change, of punishment
upon where your tiny figure stands,
filled with fear and remorse
curiosity and desire,
as your delicate hands shake.

A soul must find peace
within itself and its surroundings,
before breaking away from its temple,
and escaping the succession of time.

-AW

Sometimes titles are the hardest

I've been taking more time recently going over my writing before I post it. I think it makes me feel better to make sure what I'm posting online is something I'm proud of, even if know one else sees it. I was thinking of moving my blog over to tumblr since so many people follow those accounts, maybe soon I'll make the switch.

Untitled

Feed me to the lions
like sweet fresh meat
on the bone,
laying in front of
wide open jaws
and salivating mouths,
screaming like women
from hunger.

Stripped clean and displayed
in front of my predators, nude.
The taste of cotton
and polyester, displeasing
to the prowling carnivores
who want flesh,
my raw skin, my soul.
They want me vulnerable
and alone.

Rest

Yesterday I didn't post. I'm a little disappointed but it did give me more time to work on the piece I'm posting tonight. I was driving at night the other day and passed a church. I am not a particularly religious but the church was beautiful. It stood rather strong, looking somewhat undisturbed. It was inspirational.

Prayers at Rest

Dragging my feet along the stone sidewalk,
nearby a cross stands solemnly
amongst a dirty grey sky,
looking dead in contrast to the dim lights glowing from inside the red glass windows.
Its arms hammered multiple rusty nails
into a wooden post stripped of any gloss stain.
The September winds and rain
won't destroy it's hold
even if the holy symbol starts to waste away,
by termites and spiders
hunting for new holes to sleep in,
a safe haven from the storm.

I don't sleep, I walk.
I know the sounds of the town,
the chime of the chapels clock,
the quiet ticks in between that keep others asleep after bedtime prayer.
I listen to the termites eat their weight in oak,
and see the spiders spin silk to catch the ones that chew themselves full.
The building stands tall, alone looking tired and old.
In need of callused, working hands and new wooden beams.
I slip through the slightly open doors, blow out the table of candles,
and put the church to sleep.

-AW

The sense of smell

I know I wanted to post everyday but the events of today took longer than I thought. I will post twice today since I am only 40 minutes late, one now and one tonight. This poem I wrote in my gender and horror class. I'm not sure what inspired it, and it's in an early draft stage. I'm excited to see what will come of it.

Untie My Feelings - I Dare You

The smell of something
warm and living,
in the company of another.
Both engulfed in a potent cloud of lust
when entangled in each others arms and emotions.

"Never provoke my anger or jealousy," she mumbled as she shook her head.
"I keep my feelings inside,
harnessed by knots, strings and ties.
Undo them and I'm afraid of what darkness you might find."
An old soul missing a lost lover, lies,
impure thoughts, grim memories.
"The dark can be friendly though," she said.
"The dark hides what scares you
in a cloak of cold black air.
It will keep you safe, us safe,
at least for now."

-AW

Nature, my best friend.

I wrote this poem awhile ago but I still love it. I have a serious attachment to nature. I love being outside with my shoes off, feet in some cold water. The sunshine is my best friend. That's why I love this piece.


Too Far Lost

Barefoot in a shallow creek,
watching minnows swim up from under
when my toes turn over the rough gravel and smooth stones.
As I look down into the clear pool,
An old friend stares back.

Not usually getting the chance to see the cracked skin around my eyes,
the worry lines,
in a burning light as radiant as it is now,
seeing it break out of a barrier of clouds.
I only see them often displayed in old faded colors,
with blurred lines surrounding their shape.

Now, looking at the clear image below,
my tired eyes reveal the sadness of a lost soul
waiting to sail out to sea,
a crooked smile knows it’s too late to ever become whole.

-AW