It's Been A While...

Well, well, well...

Look what the cat dragged in, eh?

It's me!

I'm still here. Working on lots of things, all of which are not yet finished, but still writing. Yes indeed.

I feel bad for not posting in such a long time (12 days, le gasp), especially since I left all you loyal readers with such a horrible short story for that time (shudder).

So I made something up in the last three minutes, which is somewhat appropriate after my week-and-a-half period of silence. This is called "Soft-Spoken," which is a thing that I am not. I was looking through my journals for English class today, and over half of them were stamped with the purple cat. The purple cat represents my having shared my thoughts on the topic in front of the class, and qualifies me for extra credit. That's seven journals that I've shared. Most of my classmates have three. Actually, most have none, maybe one. What can I say? I love to talk, and I have a lot to say! So here it is.

Soft-Spoken

I think that perhaps I will speak less,

So that when I have something to say,

People will raptedly listen,

And my words will have power to sway.

Some Poems and a Promise

This is my first-ever blog entry! Yay!

I made a promise to myself today. I noticed (although it wasn't really hard to see) that the only things I write these days are sad girl poetry, or poetry about things dying... especially, um, birds dying.

I dunno. I guess I have a bit of a fixation on birds and dying. o3o Maybe. Well, no, not maybe, because in all (3) of the things I'm getting published in the lit mag, a bird dies. Or is strangled. Or gets crushed.

I guess that is an obsession.

But anyways, I made a deal with myself that I have to write two happy poems for every sad poem I write. This means I'll be writing 3 times as much poetry as usual. I think this is good. Healthy, even.

So here is a sad poem, and a happy poem to counteract it. The other one isn't quite ready yet, as I just wrote it today. :)

Phantom

I realized too late as I stood in the wings

Of the stage in front of a ravenous crowd

That I was not like them,

So I put on a mask,

A grin so disfigured, grotesque and plastic as to not appear human.

From the back of the opera house I looked just the same

As the actors who acted with cheeks rouged and teeth white

As tombstones.

The pearly beads fell--

Like tears from my eyes--

As I danced and leaped to thunderclaps of applause,

A soloist wanting nothing more, nothing more

Than to blend in the background--

And disappear.

The glitter went flying with sweat and my tears

Until nothing was left but the paper maiche,

Broken and battered and just barely hiding

My face,

All tear-streaked and desperate and brutally bruised, see.

They used me, confused me to play on this stage,

Dancing and prancing and aching and shaking

Until I collapse in the skinburning spotlight.

Now they shall see me for just what I am,

Different,

Ugly,

And all alone.

The Robin

Leaves twigprints in the morningmud,

Hopalongs a while in early light,

Onetwo-onetwo quickly steps,

Casts a glance leftright leftright.

Calls quietly, cracks dawn air,

Looks a beady eye my way,

Listens a while, answers, chirps,

Openwings and flyaways.