The Library

'Lo,

Here is where I post some of my favorite writing pieces. Grab a cup of tea (or coffee or pumpkin juice), curl up in your warmest blanket, and dive in!

(written when I was 12-14 yrs, I'll update with some more current pieces soon.)




Perfect Days


the rain falls on the window pane
nobody need know my name
or who i am or where i'm from

i have an old book in hand, and a new one
fantastical lands, adventure, and some more
my bookish friends know me more
than my friends in real life do

a hot drink is there as well
what it is depends on my mood
i hold it between my legs because my hands are busy with the books
but it warms me through and through

opaque thoughts play in  a sideshow away from the main show
boosting my mood or making me more sentimental
perhaps i am foolish to indulge in happy thoughts, steeping myself in them
if they keep me from growing old i shall continue to love them, however much they roll their eyes

the clock ticks, ticking away the time i'm away from the real world.
i'm in a brightly lit study, looking up from time to time to watch the rain.
they say these days are boring, unadventurous, or dreary.
i call them perfect days



Halloween Night

Shivers ran up our spines
Our hair stood on end.
The wind blew through the tall green pines
We waited at the bend.

Something was coming along that bend
We craned our necks to see.
We wanted to see what Doom had sent
On that one thing we did agree.

A soft smell of vanilla and spice
Floated on the breeze.
The leaves trembled as they clung
To the shivering trees.

Around the bend the phantom menace came
I right away knew his name.
I'd seen him time and time again.
In different forms, in different way.

You smiled at me then gave laugh
You proceeded to run away.
I called and called, then prepared myself
To never see the light of day.

All this vanished as I jerked awake
With a start, I rolled out of bed.
I smiled as a realized my mistake
It was all just a thing in my head.

It's on nights such as these, the feeling not new
Things aren't all they seem.
For it is said that dreams come true.
And reality becomes a dream.



Letter to the Pointing Finger

It's the feeling we experience in breathless dreams-ones you wake up panting from, drenched with salty sweat. The feeling that nobody believes you.
Sleep conflates the scene, yet you can feel it with all senses. You have to tell someone something, something that is about to burst from inside, but they do not believe. Then the end comes.
This is my life, this disbelief. No, I've never told a lie in all my days, but my life, seemingly insouciance to the vague eyes that brushes from me to the next person, is a horror story in a world that feigns a fairy tale.
On this frail scrap of paper that miraculously appeared before my strained eyes, I write this, in the hopes you will use it.  I only have one more thing to say.
I hope you look into your fellow man's eyes before declaring them an animal's. 



The Dream Keeper

The Aqualimalus Forest. It was the strangest forest on earth, if you could call it a  forest at all. More a heart stopping, evil gathering, realm of doom. The trees were submersed in water 1/3 of the way up their trunks, so all who dared enter must swim. Creatures of unsurpassed strangeness lurked there, as well as other horrible things.

Then why was I about to plunge into its depths? Why was I standing, trembling, just outside it's borders?

I had not chosen to be a Dream Keeper's apprentice out of my free will. I was chosen by the One, the one and only Dream Keeper until his long life would end. He could sense the end drawing near, so of course he must pick someone to carry on his work of collecting every dream of man ever dreamt. But first, to prove myself, I must do several tasks.
One was going through this forest, and getting out on the other side. Alive. 

Taking a deep breath I took off my shoes, then my shirt. I must be weighed down as little as possible.

Then I dove.

The water was pleasantly warm, and I swam effortlessly. It was quiet save for the tweeting of unknown birds. My mind wandered...what would there be that could be of any danger? It seemed almost calm here.
Swish...swish...through...the...water. It was rhythmic and soothing. 
Splash.

My heart beat loudly and I stopped, frozen. As I started to sink I remembered and began to swim again.

I saw a deep teal fin cut crisply and slowly through the water. I tried to be as quiet as possible.
Then it struck.
The shark clenched it's sharp and crushing jaws on my wrist. I screamed loudly as I tried to hit it on the nose and wrench my arm away.
HIT.
Not hard enough.
HIT.
Not enough leverage.
I gathered up all my strength refusing to look at the blood in the water.
HIT.
He was stunned for a moment. I swam as fast as I could, lungs burning, thigh muscles numb.
I was almost there. A bloody trail followed me, and I could hear more sharks following, waiting for the attack.
Then the water got black. It was no longer the warm, tropical turquoise.
It stung. And burned. I yelled my lungs hoarse as the hot electric currents pulsed through my body. I must stay strong and I must not let it break me. I must carry the dreams.
Suddenly the pain was gone.
And the mossy shore was there.
I clambered out as best I could with a cut wrist. I knew that that was not all the dreaded forest kept, and I never wanted to go in again. 
The Dream Keeper smiled, nodding his head. His soft white hair blew in the breeze as his eyes sparkled. He was satisfied.

Childhood and I



"Don't leave me!" I call to Childhood, already walking slowly away.
"I have to go now."  Childhood sighs as my voice wavers.
"Don't leave me! I need you! My life won't be the same..." I trail off as I dissolve into salty streams of tears, wiping my nose on the back of my hand.
Childhood puts down it's small bag, smoothing the clothes that were once all colors of the rainbow, now a light grey tinged with purple. 
"I must leave everyone at one point or another, child. It is the way." Childhood smiles, patting me on the shoulder.
"I will see you again someday perhaps...but for now, I must go rest. I have had a busy life, you know, and I am growing old. It is time to retire."
I sniff again and wave as the blurry mist of Childhood flies away with the wind.

~

"Oh dear..." I sigh as I strain my back to pick up the small doll my granddaughter has thrown to the floor in her rush to catch fireflies outside. 
I smile into the doll's faded face, grinning jovially through the years unrelentlessly. It's a warm Summer night and I hear magic whispering to me. Fuzzy memories seem to surround me, yet I cannot remember a thing. 
The doll seems to grin even more widely towards me.
I see Childhood has hobbled into the room, now on a little wooden cane. It looks tired, yet it still has the twinkle in it's eye, the one that makes you want to play, to run, to laugh. 
"Hello." 
"Hello again."

I smile as I lay the doll on the couch.



Come with Me

Come with me, to sand and sea, to forests deep and green. 
I know every place around, many things have I seen. 
Trouble and toil, sadness and grief, I beg you come away.
If you fear your homeland loss, we will come back another day. 
Now come with me, to kingdom majestic, to oceans deep and blue.
What a good feeling it is to start your life anew.

I cannot come with you dear sir, I cannot run astray.
I must stay here forever, under moon and sun ray. 
The only way I can escape, escape this small little rook.
Is hiding away in a wonderful thing, here known as a book.

Farewell dear, lady, I know your ways, I wish you would change your mind.
But until that glorious day, I must go to change mankind. 
Vale! Adieu! I hope to see you soon.
Sailing by as I do, past the silver moon. 



Fairyland in Reality


"I thought this was an imaginary-isn't this supposed to be fairyland? Isn't fairyland happy and joyful? Isn't is magical?" The girl blurted out feeble protests and questions, trying to ignore all the hate and suffering in the atmosphere around her.
"Little girl, fairyland is but another parallel of your world. What is in your world is in ours." The harlequin smiled a demonic smile, his lip paint crackling and falling to the ground. The girl opened her mouth wide, about to call out, to wake herself from this nightmare that stopped her breathing and made her stomach tingle. "Don't cry out. You cannot leave until you die." a voice curled around like a cold mist in the greenish-grey sky. The girl closed her eyes. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! She screamed inwardly to herself. She opened her eyes, expecting to see the foot of her bed, to feel the flooding relief of the realization that is was all a dream.  Instead a black executioner stood, silent in front of her. He stayed quiet, but pointed at the girl, then to the rusty axe he held in his hand. The girl ran, over the rolling green hills, blonde hair flowing in the wind and whipping her ears. As she ran, she noticed a dark pool of warm blue water, mermaids swimming blithely through it's depths. The girl however did not stop, but ran and ran until she came to the edge of the woods and could not go any further. She panted, thoughts clouding her straight thinking as sweat dripped down her neck. 
She was going in.
She ran in nightmarish miasma, trampling through branches and crunching on leaves. Evil whispering had started, entwining around her. "YOU SHALL NOT KEEP ME HERE!!!the girl screamed, batting at imaginary foes with her long and gangly arms. 
"My child, it is your kind which have made this world so." said a voice from an above tree, reaching it's hairy huge arm down for the capture. 



The Terror of the Tutu


It  was in Summer that I traveled to England. It was for the weather, to take the stress of my work away.
I rented out a small cottage across the road from a deep wood, away from all inhabitants. This was solitude. I liked it.

The first days were relaxing. I would read all day with a cup of tea, only being disturbed when the housekeeper came to tidy up. The stories enfolded before me as I looked out the window dreaming up tales and remembering past happenings.

Then I saw something which will leave it's memory with me forever.

It was the corner of a pink tutu. 

I was sure that it was a scrap of fabric left by a traveler, a skirt torn on the twiggy underbrush.

But later that night I woke up to a strange sound.

If you have ever watched a ballerina dance en pointe, you may have noticed that their shoes leave a wooden thumping on the floor. 

That is what I heard downstairs. 

I jolted awake. Perhaps a stray cat was outside, an animal of sorts?

I lay back down.

The thumping continued. Now I caught strains of piano music undulating and in sync with the pounding. 

It drilled into my mind.

Then I turned over on my pillow trying to block out the noise.

There smiling at me was a woman, her face covered with makeup and dripping with sweat. She looked pale and almost transparent.

"The show is about to start." she whispered, dragging me by the arm out of bed. 



Forward


I want to change, I do.
Innocent as a child, back to the new.
To travel forward, to escape the ditch in the road.
So I can go to the heavenly abode. 
'Tis harder than it sounds my dear,
Life is full of sadness and fear.
Pick up your chin, put on your new shoes.
Don't listen to them who play the blues.
"Who are you to speak though?", you ask, "the one who quit."
You haven't given up until your heart is no more lit. 



It Just Takes a While More

bones break, and are mended.
clothes are torn, then darned.
the one who despises sin is ammended.
the man who is weak can be armed.
can a heart that is broken be made whole again?
can an ache not of body be relieved?
i believe so, i believe it is true.
it just takes a while more.



You Do Not Remember

Once upon a time, when I was very young
I had golden memories that came true.
Just as they were awakening from the depths of my mind, coming into new light
They became even more splendid, in joy unfathomable.
Then a year came, this was the one
Where everything did come undone.
All the carefully tied knots were snipped
With the sharp scissors of Change, a cruel old soul.
I looked upon swift flying time and was not happy with what I saw.
Now it is drawing time to the event which all children yearn for all year 'round.
But Change has trampled that as well, sweeping away the memories that only have a thin layer of dust. 
Turn off the sounds of a year ago, they only bring an emptiness that cannot be filled
A hunger for the past.
Do not unfold the sacred things which I once hastily handled.
You do not hold them in the right spirit.
You do not remember.



Look How Far We've Come

bittersweet memories touch on your heart
sending palpitations of joy surging up and down your whole body
scolding yourself for all the stupid mistakes you've made
can't believe i did that
delete delete delete
but i don't want to delete
i want to hang on to every last drop of adrenaline that might escape from my heart
before sinking into deep sleep
look how far we've come
look how far we have to go
i want to keep my stupid mistakes locked up inside me shut
i want to hold every single miniscule bit of happiness
close to me
swallow the key
so that it stays with me

















4 comments:

  1. Wow, Kathryn, these are amazing! And all the poems rhyme! I'm terrible at rhyming. 😮

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, NatureMama! I think the more you read rhyming poetry, the easier it gets to write. ;)
      ~Kathryn

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  2. Anonymous5/18/2016

    Hello! I actually run a poetry contest over at thedepthofmyfaith.blogspot.com, and I would love to see you enter! If you want, you have until 12:00 tonight to write a poem and submit it. But if you can't tonight, I understand. It's really short notice! But you can always join any other week.
    thedepthofmyfaith.blogspot.com/thursdays-poetry-challenge.html

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hey, Allie Taylor! I actually got home pretty late so I can't do it this week, but I'll look into doing the next one! Thanks!
      ~Kathryn

      Delete

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~Kathryn

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