Soup and Sunshine

She imagined she could melt--
A soup of steam and soap
seasoned with human inadequacy.

She dreamed that the worries
Would swirl around her fingers and evaporate to air,
Floating to an unknown location in the atmosphere.

She wished the carelessness tumbling freely from their lips
wouldn't store itself for later
In her worn and wearied mind.

She wanted to sink in all her sorrows,
But her will kept her buoyant--
A boat tossed on stormy seas.

She--a recipient of surprising, sudden slaps--desired peace,
A place of genuine understanding,
But she feared that wouldn't come for quite some time.

She pondered breathing, life, and blinking,
for so much had passed before her blinded eyes
As her breath was stolen without notice.

She determined somewhere hiding she was happy--
A free flower now dry from drowning rains.
And she waited, for a long while, for that feeling to surface.

She tried seeing further,
And her sight was magnified--
A telescope set on distant lands and waters.

She imagined she would sail there,
And the sun would shine forever
Giving life to her dead hope--
A melting soul in imaginary soup.

Fading Female

She sat in that secluded tower and withered away.
The night wind rustled her hair
And she looked as if she'd fall to pieces.

As the days aged and the moons waxed and waned
Her eyes dulled in the starlight,
Dimming more with each passing night.

She was a droplet clear and hanging,
Waiting for that final, fatal plunge
To darkness untouched by light or rain.

Her fingers weathered in the sun
And a fear forced frown adorned her face.
The ivy 'round her ankles kept her stranded there forever.

But on an evening red 'fore twilight
Did a traveler spot her window--
An ancient, cracked painting in the wood.

He did step and pause to wonder
At that woman soaked in colors
When she took a labored breath as night did fall.

The colors then did pour,
Spreading out around the wood,
Glorious greens, reds and yellows did he see.

Her finger twitched, a final flutter
Of her life once wrought with color
That she seemed to have lost sight of long ago.

He looked at her--Her eyes then closing.
And he couldn't help but ponder,
Who it was that let this woman die
In the first of winter's snow.

Air and Strangers

In every season the air changes,
Sailing on as time goes by.
The storms will shake and leaves will rustle;
Winds shall twist and tilt the mind.
What is constant is that feeling--
Love to quiet weather's roar.
And although it may seem sparing
It is always deep inside.
The outer world is still revolving,
But at times you must stand still.
Take in all the seasons' changes
And that love will soothe your soul.
It's not always from within you,
A passerby may feel your plight.
And that same stranger that you share with
Will love you as yourself...cannot.

A Bird in a Crowd

The bird perched on a wire is lonely.

Other wings may turn the sky to dusk,

But the lack of conscience on their part astounds

The bright little bluebird.

She calls out in the chaos

Of those feathered structures flapping,

But her voice is always muffled

By the constant drum of artificial twilight.

She'll never call out louder,

For fear of shrieking finches

And her wings she'll never rustle

As she might steal someone's wind.

She sits quietly on occasion

Except when joined by one small sparrow

Who seems to understand her mind.

One day though, she'll fly away

To distant high-rise perches

On which she'll wait contently

For the calming of dark wings.  

Throwing Petals

Sometimes I throw

petals to the wind.

I expect them to dwindle there--

To dance in the astral sky,

But they rarely do.

I turn my back and flee

When I run from floating petals,

But the breezes bring them closer.

They whip about my face

Painting dark and dreary scenes

With wisps of wondrous hues.

Why I ever toss them wayward

I will never truly know.

Their presence is perfection

And their absence loss of heart.

Quite often they besiege me

When my mind is filled with wonder.

Perhaps one day I won't mind--

They'll encompass me forever.

Maybe they'll sail onward

On a clear and pulsing current,

But I fear their bright existence

For it marks the end of mine.

An Outpour of Butterflies

Flocks of feeling come to sit

On my lips that speak your name.

Flying round and circling--

A stomach full of knots.

When those wings begin to flutter

A heart racing does not stop.

As that simple feat of speech

Dares to pass beyond my lips,

Latches break and color pours

From those thin and fragile wings.

Contorting to my wishes

They do flow and lightly dance.

A mosaic filled with motion,

Frames my effervescent awe.

But somehow you still stay there

As I stand in swarms of beauty.

Wings a pounding, ever loud,

I hear nothing but their beating.

But I smile at their existence

And I breathe in scents of wonder.

Something causes me to ponder,

Do you see the same thing too?

Blades of Green

Chilly dew frosts the green blades of grass,

Silent in the wind that once ripped them from the roots.

The icy shell plants them there eternally.

The sun shines, but they won't be thawed til' noontime.

They'll be stepped upon by each passerby

With a final crunch of submission.

But with each dirty sole

Squashing, trampling, and kicking the blades,

One by one the crystals melt away.

A wash of green and mud covers solid ground

And a few, weak blades are carried with the soles.

The wind strikes the sky and grass whips and withers.

No prisoner to ice, but a victim to the breeze. 

Tears for the Unknown

Effortless tears drizzled over a pale complexion.

A surprising taste of salt

Caused by startling emotions.

A wave of realization

Toppled sturdy pillars to the sand.

A wish thrown to the stars,

Only in parallel planets becoming reality.

They pulled so hard on the rope--

Desiring to capture the attached dream and bring it to earth.

Countless frenzied whispers of yearned for truths

Echoed in valleys between impregnable mountains.

The hopeful yearned to climb one--

To sit at the peak and stay forever,

To perch and be an actual existence.

If only I knew that though--

That through crevices, gorges, and dark caves

This dream would wander. 

I would wait,

No matter the time.

I would do whatever.

No landmark too daunting,

No universe too far away,

No rope too long.

But I don't know that.

And I never will.

That's why I cry.

For lack of knowing,

For the many realistic mountains dreams must conquer,

For the potential loss of a happy future.

Bats and Sanity

The bats in the belfry flutter and romp

In a mind already cluttered with scattered thoughts.

They tear up the papers and shred the colors

Of distant skies from long lost remembrances.

Their flapping stirs the pictures

Bringing memories to mind,

But throwing close kept secrets to the attic ceiling.

There's a single light there dangling from a lonely string

Rustled by the breeze meandering through the cracks.

And all the while a smile sits upon your face

Falsely reassuring peace to the occasional passerby.

But behind your aching, smiling cheeks you crouch

In your attic watching your sanity fly.  

The Flurries

Today was a pile of disappointments,

A mountain of mistakes and misunderstandings.

The clouds trapped the sun for infinite hours

And the stars hid behind the unforgiving fog

That silently seeped behind my eyes.

Waves of silence washed over me

In the midst of loud and cheering voices. 

Gulps of frozen air sent a shiver through my spine

As the wind whipped my battered countenance.

The last browned leaves ripped free from their branches

So too did I tear away from the last drip of confidence I owned.

A climate marked by countless frigid flurries

Brought the end to my desire

And the beginning of my solitude.

Fleeting Freedom

It uses people.

It pushes, pulls and pulverizes reason.

Rarely silent, but never loud.

Wakes your restless mind from dreamless sleep.

It never waits as your mind wanes.

Always wanting wishful words for a world

Much better than the dreary demise you dread.

Haunting heartlessly.

But you bask, blinded by the binding

Clutches of that which you desire most.

You mostly want her.

Her sweet yet silent soul.

You'll find your fleeting freedom

In her soft and daring eyes.

Finally fighting fiercely,

Because she matters now.

But love it does yet bind you.

It's harming helpless hearts

Like yours.

Without recognizable respect.

Flying, floating, fleeing

From the truth you now know.

She's made her memory--

an imprint on your once sanguine soul 

The Spill

They hang silently on your clenched lips.

A diver anxiously prepares to plunge

Into an abyssal pool of accumulated uncertainties

motivated by countless misconceptions of the truth.

One transparent miscalculation prefaces the downfall--

The end of a hopeless affair.

Torturing your tongue they explore your mouth

Looking for cavernous spaces to fill and rest.

But the most quiet thoughts find a place on the very tip.

Breaching your mouth they'll drip down your chin.

A faucet plopping for a time too long to fathom.

No one will shut it off.

Clinging to anxiety you blunderingly try to hold back

Once locked up secrets from the recesses of your mind.

But they don't stop pouring.

A steady stream of water flows

Only to circle round and gurgle in the drain of despair.

You plug the hole and let the words stand and settle.

Empty caverns and starving wonder cause you to look up.

Without a façade you stand unguarded before bright eyes.

One breath is a million miles traveled there and back,

And a wink of weighted, tired eyes

Dare you to keep them closed forever.

The response is a frigid blast of wind. 

***I'm curious to know how you interpret this. It seems unfinished, and that is purposeful. Please leave a comment on the link or the blog. I am anxious to hear your thoughts! Thank you

Silence Through Seasons

Budding love entraps your heart,

And fresh life creeps between your toes.

The morning air is your fresh start.

Scents of sunlight touch your nose.

Every day brings clearer skies.

You bask in daylight--a tender smile.

No hellos and no goodbyes,

Because you stay there all the while.

Falling colors coat the ground.

Walking, death around the bend.

Crunching life makes constant sound.

One farewell you cry to send.

Frosty chills creep up your spine,

And frigid secrets reach your ears.

You seem to think it is a sign

From your silence all those years. 

You

Falling--quickly, carefully
Guard your heart so it might be
Safe for all eternity
It will be broken, you shall see

I never took to advice like this.
I dreamed, I hoped, and I waited--
All for you
Every plan, despite their warning--
Created for you
My sparkling eyes--
Because of you
Strong guarded walls--
Torn down by you
Fears dissolved--
With help from you
New life goals--
Inspired by you
Knowledge, great--
I learned from you

Happiness--
Denied by you

Useless dreams--
Confirmed by you
Doubts returned--
Ignored by you
Walls sky high--
Built up by you
Hidden mind--
Away from you
Watery eyes--
In spite of you
My cares and hope--
Forgotten by you
I rationalized and soon realized...
It was all for you

I should always listen to advice like this.

Forks and Indecision

She traveled a road distantly,

Ever searching silently.

Reaching points of symmetry,

Always choosing carefully.

Trees and cliffs may hide the way,

Even on the fairest day.

What she'll see she cannot say.

She must decide for what to sway.

To stay at home or speak abroad,

To talk to strangers, serving God.

Others see her stay as odd.

Which path will she choose to trod?

Dying leaves and falling rain,

Winter storms do bring the pain.

Indecision is the bane,

For her energy will drain.

Forks in life and paths in roads.

Must decipher hidden codes,

Singing softly, pleading odes,

Bearing her great, heavy loads.

To where she walks, she does not know.

She only hopes that time will show

Where on earth she's called to go.

On a mission? Yes or no. 

What Could Yet Be

Always close but yet so far.

Small moments and wishing stars.

Happy days and restless nights.

Wanting, wishing, waiting for

What could have been,

What could yet be.

Watching ever helplessly.

Never far and ever near.

Silent talks and constant fear.

Solemn songs and wishes too.

Hiding, hearing, hoping in

Things you've thought,

You'll never say.

Love that you have pushed away.

Seems quite false but it is true.

Memories and futures new.

Hope for then and time for now.

Playing, plotting, praying that

Plans you had

Will dare come true.

Happy end with me and you.

A Poem About Running

The cold settled on her nose

Frost crystallized her toes

She slipped through the trees

Hands quaking, like her knees

Hair strewn across her face

Leaping through the brush with grace

Rarely looking at the sun

Sight ahead--starting to run

Branches breaking, twigs did snap

Lightning and a thunder clap

Wicked wind and violent air

She ran from time with all despair

Quickened paces on the dirt

Eyes were filled with fear and hurt

Rain clouds breaking, she looks up

Water, flooding, filled her cup

Overflowing to the brim

She stopped…

Her life was not so dim

The Scarf

There he stood and looked at her

Silent wonders, was he not sure.

Her smile was bright,

Her laugh sweet wine,

That sparkle--It was genuine.

He knew it not to look away.

She kept him standing there.

Her hidden thoughts he wish she'd share.

He asked to dance,

She took his hand.

This was far more than he had planned.

She looked at him with eyes alive.

Softly spinning all the while,

All he managed was a smile.

The song did end,

Although she stayed.

Her parting glance was yet delayed

For it did never come.

Words to him she did not say.

Fears that once were kept at bay

Came flooding toward him.

He tried to stand,

Reached for a hand,

But it was never there.

He then looked up to realize,

All that was left were those blue eyes.

And he quite was alone.

His love he thought she'd be,

Only marked a memory.

He sang his last love song.

Oh he could almost not.

One day her face would be forgot.

Her soul danced through the wind.

The breeze blew away his care.

That same, soft breeze that kept him there.  

I Will Say

Perhaps you laugh so much,

That you forget which one is real--

Which smile is genuine,

Which chuckle is true?

Or maybe you're so tattered

That you put on a mask.

A happy, healthy layer

That disguises your dark tear stains.

And it might seem like you're here,

But you're only far away--

Caught in your own head,

Hit by daggers from your mind.

They think you've got it all,

But you feel like you have nothing.

And no one knows,

Because you won't tell them--not ever.

I hope that you'll trust me though,

That you'll wipe of all the makeup,

And come out of the shadows.

In that day you'll be free, if only slightly.

I pray you'll someday be brave,

With the courage to cry,

And the audacity to laugh.

I wish you'd find your voice to sing.

Oh but you still cower

In secret, hidden chambers--

Unreachable by mankind.

For what you think will be forever.

One day I will reach you,

On a warm and sunny day.

You'll venture from your tower,

And finally I'll have the chance to say…

Cease to Shine

She decided the end was near.
The stars and moon would cease to shine.
He said he had not one fear.

He dismissed his usual cheer.
Her bellicose demeanor was a sign.
She decided the end was near.

The musician would shed one last tear.
Over her he would continue to pine.
He said he had not one fear.

As a dictator, she was never dear.
On despair she would frequently dine.
She decided the end was near.

To him her plan was never clear.
She yelled, “All power is mine!”
He said he had not one fear.

She would always stop and jeer
At the victims who let out a whine.
She decided the end was near.
He said he had not one fear.

This is a poem I wrote some time ago and I happened upon it today and thought I would share it. I would enjoy hearing your interpretation, because I'm not sure if I even have my own. 

The Onlys

It's funny how large we make things.

From molehills to mountains,

Indifference to anger,

And minutes to hours.

Each passing moment grows--

Taller, longer, bigger, greater.

There exists no subtleties.

There exists no small second.

Would the world be different,

If everything were as it should be?

Small, silent, and still.

If the mountains were in fact small hills.

Would people treat you differently,

If they saw you for what you are?

Quiet, indifferent, and scared.

If your smile wasn't a grin?

Would we savor those small moments,

A sunrise of only yellow,

Or the wind only touching our skin?

Would we treasure all of the onlys,

Even if they weren't big? 

Here is a perspective that I thought would be worth sharing. I am trying to adopt this as a way of looking at things. Must everything be so grand for us to enjoy it? I would prefer the opposite, to be able to enjoy the small things, for the subtle moments are what make up our lives. I think they're worth paying attention to. 

Dewdrops and Sadness

Maybe rainy days make the sun shine less in your heart.

Maybe the drops soak your mind,

Preventing you from feeling.

Maybe frigid air takes your breath away.

Maybe the clouds hide your eyes,

Preventing you from seeing.

And perhaps the dewdrops frighten you--

Cause your legs to shake and shiver,

Cause your toes to freeze inside.

Does the breeze go through your ears

And rest solemnly on your lips?

Do you dare speak the phrase you think?

There you stand inaudibly,

Waiting for the noonday sun--

How you wish it would come.

What if it rains forever,

And the rays never breach the peak?

You will never feel warmth again.

But there you stay

With your feet in the grass

And your arms outstretched in the cold.

Others wear jackets and scarves;

They hide under the trees.

The rain soaks your face and hair.

The jumble of umbrellas doesn't suit you.

You prefer to be unprotected and alone,

And you fix your eyes on the mountain.

You never look beyond them--

Only through their hearts.

Every time you break your own.

If you'd only wear a jacket,

And look above their eyes.

The water wouldn’t freeze your toes

Swiftly Changing Time

Her hair blows with the waves

On a shore far from earth

Where the galaxies spin like pinwheels

And time will not exist.

The stars shine like the heavens

In a place unlike our own

Where she can only smile

And time cannot matter.

She floats through the air

On a transparent piece of space

Where the planets sing together

And time is not real

She glories in the atmosphere

In a day without an end

Where sorrow is no object

And time does not know

The gravity takes hold of her

On a moment unannounced

Where the stars begin to fade

And time will be an idea

Her tears fall down her face

In a room both dark and empty

Where no stars light up the ceiling

And time is a reality

She sits back in her corner

On a day so solemnly clear

Where she sings no melody

And time again exists. 

Dealing with Males

Oh I wish you'd be more clear

Like blue fountains in O'Leer.

Or the water by a pier 

Or a diamond held so dear.

Oh if you were then I would cheer.

But you're not.

As a female I am cunning,

And almost always am I stunning,

But it's painful to be running,

From what seems a future shunning.

With your words you're always punning.

And I'm not

If you'd just say what you think,

Because now we're at the brink,

Of a never ending sink,

Where I'll fall with a "plink".

My heart will slowly shrink

But you'll be fine.

So if you'd only just be caring,

Then I'd know about our pairing--

If it's true or only daring,

 If I am in fact impairing,

A heart that I am sharing.

But hurry up.

Your ambiguity appalls me

You don't know what I see,

My relationship with thee

Is that like leftover leaves of tea

Only seers can predict what are we.

And they won't.

Hot Chocolate

And heartbroken they fall to the ground, sobbing in agony at the loss of their love-and perhaps also the messenger, the noble soldier.

And they turn from the hill and silently trod on the blankets of snow, shivering from the cold and desperately wanting the relief of a hot, non-caffeinated, beverage.

There was an untimely blizzard in the fall of that year. The winds howled and the snow blew the multicolored leaves to the north. The earth was barren and white, and the people bitter with cold.

And the soldier stayed locked up in his castle, laughing at the peasants below, shuddering in the snow. The smoke from the chimneys blew in the wind and climbed to his tower window. Little did he know, two fair ladies called for help. He could not hear them over his own greed and slurping of the lovely drink.

And a peasant nearby peeped out his window at the moon reflecting on the ice crystals. His work was done and he smiled at the dancing snow before it melted on his outstretched hand. He yawned, glancing once more at the night sky, then retired to his warm bed which protected him from that frigid air.

And that soldier stares out his window, desirous to have more. He only wanted that which he could not have-the kingdom. He was more than a peasant, but only in status, not in happiness or joy.

And the fair ladies reached the crest of the hill and looked upon that dark, stone castle. They trembled in the wind and dared not move for fear of the madman within. But the very peasant, the one who so loved the twinkling of the moon, saw them in their plight. He could not sleep after all. He called out to them in the silent night and invited them to his small cottage by the hill.

And so they wandered to his front porch and he gave them woolen blankets and they sat and wondered at the beauty of the moon reflecting off that dark and solemn castle.

The soldier was bewildered at the people in the snow. He waved his white handkerchief to perhaps call them to attention, but the night wind took it southward and a lovely lady caught it. She looked upon this fabric and she smiled at the moon, for she knew it had been a gift from the sky.

**This small story resulted from a facebook conversation among friends. I interpreted their conversation about the consumption of hot chocolate, and someone's greed (Matthew), and turned it into a lovely tale of princesses (Erin and Me), and a friendly peasant (Ben). 

The Janitors

There's an elephant on the white board

Surrounded by mathematical equations.

He stares at me.

Edward the elephant always sees me working.

Just like the giraffes in Room 235,

He watches.

If only he were alive,

If only he could see.

If only he could move his trunk and speak.

But he doesn't need to,

Because they already do.

The orange peels and paper plates,

Even the sticky notes--

They illuminate it all.

The shredded strips of paper tell a story

Among beds of grape soda,

Candy wrappers, and popped birthday balloons.

The pictures on the wall need not speak,

Because the trash in the basket tells all of the secrets.

But the photos are so intriguing

And the titles so enticing!

They are covered in dust.

The trash is changed daily--

Always new, always rotting.

The pictures will never age;

The garbage always will.

But they will never know.

They will never smell the rotting fish,

They will never see the spaghetti sauce,

They will never spill opaque liquids on their clothes.

They never will because they never must.

They must never take out their trash--

Only throw it in the basket.

I must.

I must take their trash.

And the elephant always watches,

And I always watch him back.

He is a creature on the wall.

He will never be in the basket.

Only the mistakes will go--

Only the leftovers

And broken parts.

And I erase them.

A new liner for a new day.

The office doors open

And they smile.

They see no leftovers,

No mistakes, no broken pieces.

They only see the elephant.

They only see the framed diplomas.

They only see the beautiful sunrise.

And they will never see me.

And we don't see him.

We ask,

We pray,

And we plea.

We want the trash gone.

And when our hearts are clean,

We see the splendor of the earth.

We have a new liner,

And thus a new beginning.

He walks around with trash bags,

Changing liners every day.

But we are not the same,

For I visit rooms.

Rooms with photos, whiteboards, and diplomas.

He visits people.

People with memories, emotions, and intelligence.

But we both take out the garbage.

Seen by only elephants,

But asked for by them.

We are thanked by them.

All things are made clean and new.

 

Listen and Build a Palace

Upon living here at Brigham Young University I have come to realize just how insignificant I am. The latter has the capability to be disheartening on dreary days, but most times it provides a perspective that I have come to live with and appreciate. I never thought I was superior to other minds, it’s just that I now know I won’t ever be able to compare to some of them. Nevertheless I won’t stop pursuing greater knowledge.

I have been blessed with extremely talented and bright friends. In the past few months I have craved long conversations, simply to discuss life at a somewhat intellectual level. That desire has been fulfilled here and I haven’t been this happy in quite a while. I don’t necessarily contribute largely to these conversations, rather I provide comments to learn more. I enjoy listening and pondering upon the thoughts from peers and I am often intrigued by the words of wisdom they have to offer. Most of the time I dare not share my own thoughts for fear of my words being inadequate. However, as I listen more, new ideas continue to float about my head. I have yet to pin them down, but when I do I assure you that I will not keep them hidden.

I challenge you to listen. In so many relationships with others I have been chosen to be the conversationalist, so I thoroughly enjoy the opportunity to sit as an audience for a thought provoking testimony, lesson, or story. I am so amazed that people my own age have such beautiful minds and they are willing to share their thoughts with me. I hope that I will be able to continue those conversations and cultivate my own mind into the palace I wish for it to be. Although I sometimes feel insignificant in the great scheme of things, I know I have my own place among the people I admire and look up to. I hope that you can look around you and acknowledge, as well as appreciate, the abundance of knowledge your generation has to offer to both you and society as a whole.