Wrote this after taking a picture of the moon the night it was closest to the earth.
Gaze upon the full moon and blow her a kiss,
And perhaps the Fair Huntress will grant you a wish
Of dreams and fortune, or maybe a fresh start,
But the rarest of them all are the matters of the heart.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Not Much to Say…
I mentioned earlier in my other blog that I believe that the mystical things found in faerie tales, legends, and myths still exist, hidden within us and unseen around us. Strangely though…my views have changed a bit since I’ve written this piece, and the frustration that I was feeling back then has long since been resolved, and I see no need to bring it back to surface. So…now…I’m not feeling the most…verbally expressive about the piece.
No matter, I still wouldn’t mind reading some feedback from all of you out there. ^_^
No matter, I still wouldn’t mind reading some feedback from all of you out there. ^_^
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Self Induced Loneliness
The original title “Through the Monocle of a Cancer” was used to display illustrated poetry I used to write. Thus far, I only made up two such pieces. So before I reuse the title with a different purpose all together, I will redisplay those two pieces this week and next week. And upon reading them, or at least this piece below…the meaning behind the words takes on a whole new perspective.
I was told the first time I placed this up on the net that the poem itself was hard to read. Since I cannot access the original file at the moment, I’ll simply retype it below for clarification.
‘Those who she cares about reside together in a third of her heart.
Three she has entrusted her very essence to.
Two slots are filled with bitter emptiness, even though she lives closer to them than the other.
The third may be father from sight, but she still feels a faint spark of warmth generating from that little spot in her heart.
She sees them, but they are unaware of her presence.
She watches them laugh with pleasure, but does not partake in the festivities.
She fears the rejection she’d eventually receive after two minutes have passed.
They do not dare venture towards her, for that would be breaking their daily ritual.
To do so would be equivalent to forsaking their god.
Those who fear loneliness are those who have recently tasted the deceptive fruits of companionship.
They too have left her, without realizing that they have committed the crime they so fear.
Through travel or ignorance, all have left.
They make their empty promises, and leave her at the side of the vast ocean.
Taking a deep breath, she dives head first into the sea of loneliness; the icy waters tear at her soul.
Relying on her blind faith, she follows the light of last hope, to the eternal treasure of happiness.
And they wonder why she wants to be alone.’
Back when I originally wrote this, I was living with my late grandmother, just having finished getting my first degree and simply commuting back and forth from work and home to pass the time before I transferred towards my second degree. Half of the friends that were dear to me at that time in my life lived far away, either because of college or they didn’t live in the same town as me…while the friends that did live in town with me were either busy getting their high school diplomas, or we simply weren’t on speaking terms anymore. Either way, I felt completely cut off from the world I knew and loved, and utterly alone. When I sent this out via email to some friends and some family, the most memorable response was from my Lady in Red, who stated that she would have never guessed I could write something like this. It showed her a type of passion she never saw in me before, and in a way…though separated by miles…it brought us a little bit closer together.
This poem reminds me of how much I hate being alone, and yet I still strive to be alone. I know, a contradiction in itself but probably a reasonable one. If you’re alone, on your own, without anyone to help you, then you can’t take anyone for granted. If you’re doing everything on your own, then you’ve got no one to blame but yourself when things don’t go as planned.
That’s where I want to be. As much as coming home to an empty house scares me…due to all the CSI/L&O related shows I watch make me paranoid that if I live by myself then I’m going to get…well…attacked; which watching those shows are probably not a good idea in that sense, but I love the stories…anyways…as much as that aspect of being on my own scares me, I don’t think I can get over that initial fear until I dive into the situation full heartedly. It will be hard, and thus far I’ve got people helping me to make that decision a reality…but I’ve got hope, and am putting my faith that with this venture I will find success and happiness. Two things I think I deserve after 30 years of failure, don’t you think? Oh well, we’ll see when that time comes around.
Either way, we’ll see how it all works out. In the mean time, enjoy the poetry and when I get it up, the observational art and writing of people and places I visit during my time away from my daily rituals.
I was told the first time I placed this up on the net that the poem itself was hard to read. Since I cannot access the original file at the moment, I’ll simply retype it below for clarification.
‘Those who she cares about reside together in a third of her heart.
Three she has entrusted her very essence to.
Two slots are filled with bitter emptiness, even though she lives closer to them than the other.
The third may be father from sight, but she still feels a faint spark of warmth generating from that little spot in her heart.
She sees them, but they are unaware of her presence.
She watches them laugh with pleasure, but does not partake in the festivities.
She fears the rejection she’d eventually receive after two minutes have passed.
They do not dare venture towards her, for that would be breaking their daily ritual.
To do so would be equivalent to forsaking their god.
Those who fear loneliness are those who have recently tasted the deceptive fruits of companionship.
They too have left her, without realizing that they have committed the crime they so fear.
Through travel or ignorance, all have left.
They make their empty promises, and leave her at the side of the vast ocean.
Taking a deep breath, she dives head first into the sea of loneliness; the icy waters tear at her soul.
Relying on her blind faith, she follows the light of last hope, to the eternal treasure of happiness.
And they wonder why she wants to be alone.’
Back when I originally wrote this, I was living with my late grandmother, just having finished getting my first degree and simply commuting back and forth from work and home to pass the time before I transferred towards my second degree. Half of the friends that were dear to me at that time in my life lived far away, either because of college or they didn’t live in the same town as me…while the friends that did live in town with me were either busy getting their high school diplomas, or we simply weren’t on speaking terms anymore. Either way, I felt completely cut off from the world I knew and loved, and utterly alone. When I sent this out via email to some friends and some family, the most memorable response was from my Lady in Red, who stated that she would have never guessed I could write something like this. It showed her a type of passion she never saw in me before, and in a way…though separated by miles…it brought us a little bit closer together.
This poem reminds me of how much I hate being alone, and yet I still strive to be alone. I know, a contradiction in itself but probably a reasonable one. If you’re alone, on your own, without anyone to help you, then you can’t take anyone for granted. If you’re doing everything on your own, then you’ve got no one to blame but yourself when things don’t go as planned.
That’s where I want to be. As much as coming home to an empty house scares me…due to all the CSI/L&O related shows I watch make me paranoid that if I live by myself then I’m going to get…well…attacked; which watching those shows are probably not a good idea in that sense, but I love the stories…anyways…as much as that aspect of being on my own scares me, I don’t think I can get over that initial fear until I dive into the situation full heartedly. It will be hard, and thus far I’ve got people helping me to make that decision a reality…but I’ve got hope, and am putting my faith that with this venture I will find success and happiness. Two things I think I deserve after 30 years of failure, don’t you think? Oh well, we’ll see when that time comes around.
Either way, we’ll see how it all works out. In the mean time, enjoy the poetry and when I get it up, the observational art and writing of people and places I visit during my time away from my daily rituals.
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