Drizzle

Sitting in the cold and wet
On a Friday afternoon
Watching the world,
The view is subdued.

From the people,
Who huddle in scarves and sweaters
Against the chill,
To the trees and brush
That dip and bend beneath the drizzle,
Everything is a little more peaceful.

Perspective is a funny thing.
To many this is a dreary and depressing scene,
But to my eye it's just at rest.
The people collapse in on themselves
And gather their warmth,
Puffing out visible mists,
Giving evidence of their life.

The trees, sagging and glistening with
Tiny droplets of the most bedazzling crystals,
Rest from the weary work of holding themselves aloft.
A shimmering shower shows them
The most refreshing relaxation,
And as they sway in the wind I swear I see some sigh.

Heaving a sigh of my own visible life,
I sag beneath the water filled sky
And flow with it into that same sublime state
As the world around me on this drizzly afternoon.

A Valentine's Poem

            So a certain friend had it in her mind that I should write her a poem, and bugged me about it for a few months until I finally relented and wrote her one for Valentine's Day. This person is in no way a romantic friend, so I felt no reason to not have fun and screw around with it. As insulting as I tried to make it (without making her truly hate me), she loved it. Not high quality by any means, but I had fun with it:

Terror

            Plop.

It’s back,

Here to suck my energy and tax my soul.

I try to ignore it,

But it demands my attention,

Prodding at me and entangling me

With suction cupped tentacles

That never let go once they’ve got a grip.

            Flop.

It’s getting restless.

Inching closer,

A tittering noise escapes its maw;

It’ll attack soon if I don’t give in.

Which could be worse?

The pain of being taken by force,

Or the shame of breaking and giving in?

            Shift.

                        Twitch.

The tittering is louder and more insistent,

The thing leans in for the kill,

Tentacles poised and metallic fangs glistening.

Alas, I’m not strong enough!

“What do you want, Sydney?”

The grin widens and the tentacles retract,

“You should write me a poem!”

Thoughts on Love

            Sorry, nothing creative today- a theme I seem to have been following for a while now. I’ll have to fix that. Anyway, right now I just have a few thoughts on creative writing. Specifically, as you should have deduced from the title, love.

            Most readers, myself included, expect to read about at least some romance in a story, no matter the genre. Take a look at just about all the movies you’ve seen lately? How many had some form of romantic tension? Was your answer all of them? Mine was. Now think of your favorite book or story. Does romance feature pretty heavily even if it really isn’t the main focus of the plot? Chances are yes, it does.

Chapter 2

     Ryas stood staring at Jan’s unconscious form for some time. His thoughts moved to images of what the scene might look like in a month. A burning village littered with the bodies of men and wolves, and himself standing in the middle of it all, looking down at the same limp body as he did now, only this time it did not move slightly with breath. He thought about it for a moment, and he realized the situation could very well turn out the other way. The image in his head changed so that the human was standing in the middle of a burning village gazing down at his body, and the bodies strewn throughout the scene were predominantly lupine forms.

Control

He’s got his life under control.

He knows what he’s doing,

Where he’s going,

And when he’s gonna get there.

He feels the stress

And laughs it off.

He sees his problems

And blows them off.

Day by day it piles up,

And day by day he

Confronts it with

Supreme nonchalance.

He goes around with

His wit and his charm,

He has a quip for everything,

And something to say to anything.

He doesn’t worry about a thing.

Then he goes home,

To that place where facades die,

And he kicks off his shoes.

He puts on something sappy

And he curls up on the couch,

And he cries.

He tries to summon up his wit,

His arguments,

His never-failing reason,

But nothing comes.

So he cries.

Overwhelmed by how much

He’s gotten in over his head.

He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

He doesn’t know where the hell he’s going.

He doesn’t know how the hell he’s going to get there.

In this place the only thing he knows

Is how to cry,

So he does,

So that when the world can see him

He can smile and pretend

That he’s got his life under control.

Drifiting

This is an older one, I wrote it close to a year ago I think, I just haven't shared it with anyone yet. I didn't like it all that much when I wrote it, but now that I read it again in a different state of mind, I rather enjoy it:

Drifting,
Pining,
Wandering endlessly through this monotonous life.
Every day expecting something to change,
Yet every day I’m no closer to what I desire.

Trudging,
Seeking,
Trying to find something in this place that can lift my heavy spirits.
Not knowing what I need,
Or even exactly what I want.
Only knowing that something is missing,
Something vital that disappeared.

I see so much happiness all around me,
Everything I need, I have,
But I can’t settle for what I need,
I have to chase what I want,
I have to find that last thing that my heart desires.

I’ve already been given so much more than I could ever ask for,
Yet I find the words to say I want more.
This ache inside me demands more,
But I can’t name what it is!

And the light turns on,
And I know what my heart desires.

Stopping,
Staring,
Numbly watching as she drifts further away.
Wanting more than anything to cry out for her to stop,
Knowing that it would do no good.
Powerless to stop it as my everything
Leaves me behind.

Forward

I can’t keep up.
I’m racing along as fast as I can,
But it’s all just getting further away.
The ground beneath me is moving me backward,
Or forward?
I lost track somewhere along the way
Which direction I’m supposed to be going.

It all began easily enough.
For four long-
Or were they all too short?-
Years I kept up with all of it just fine.
But all good things must come to an end,
It was time to keep moving forward-
Backward?-
With our lives.