[x]

Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.

IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.

Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone

Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu

i got flowers oncei am lonely.
i received flowers once
and i placed them
in a vase til
the petals all browned
desiccated
and turned to dust
on the glass of my bureau.

i have never gotten flowers since.

i spend my days
with a boy
a man
whom i love far beyond reason
and he holds me in his arms
and holds me together.

i bite my nails
and pull my hair
over the moment when he
inevitably
feels the disenchantment
fall over his body,
all clean lines
and smooth shapes,
and realises that leaving
the worst thing
would be
the best thing.

i am lonely
and even with a hand to hold,
and even with a cloak of security
bunching around my shoulders
and hiding my thighs,
i feel

moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.

L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
Saving myself
Being who
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that

Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do

Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013

field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.

Asperger's SyndromeAsperger’s Syndrome

This is what makes me different.
It is what makes me both distant and compassionate.
It is what makes me both tired and creative.
It is what makes me both sassy and awkward.
It is what makes me both fairly normal and completely insane at the same time.

This is what makes me amazing.
It is what gives me my talents and achievements.
It is what gives me my intelligence and ideas.
It is what gives me my humor and individuality.
It is what gives me my passion and dedication.

This is what makes me flawed.
It is what makes me confused and anxious.
It is what makes me exhausted and frustrated.
It is what makes me uncertai

MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee

van houten must be godi. you know how in embroidered cloth,
from the bottom under the design,
all you see are knots? her honey-like,
crying
voice lulls me to sleep,
that's what we see of God's plan.
just the knots. when in reality,
it's the design on top;
beautiful and flawless that He
has in store for us.
bullshit.
i learnt that word
when i was three
but every time i said it,
my face hurt and mom's hand fell.
God will put you
in hell.
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
misconception.
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
a crowd
of murmuring lips of
god's will.
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
could hear.
if you truly are
what they say for you to be,
then there are no secrets
between you and me.
mother still sings
the same songs
in the rain, hoping
you'll hear her the way
i thought you would.
but she doesn't know you died long ago
with chiv

blood-red wine and skeleton jazz i.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.

ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled

thieves of nocturne skiesPaper lanterns are midnight requiems
That tell me to look beyond the
light and have &

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WasI was the stone,
I felt nothing I moved not.
My heart was hardened in my chest
And when I slept I took no rest.
I existed,
My heart was cold and moved not.
And when I saw other's pain
I laughed until I died again.
I felt nothing.

So long ago I only remember
Those days have passed and gone.
Now when I see the pain in others
I almost can't help but cry along.

It hurts so bad
To see you falling to the ground
I am powerless to help you
You struggle on in hope to get through.
Please don't give up.
My unfamiliar emotions warring
I don't understand all this
It almost makes me wish
That I was stone.

So long ago I only

WatchingI see you
Tough on the outside,
But inside, good.
You hurt, same as everyone
Maybe deeper
For all you keep it hidden.

I see you give
Trying so hard to help others
Paying no mind to your own wounds.
You'll kill yourself this way.

Accept the help that's offered.
Talk,
Get out of your shell.
It may seem safe but that shell
Locks comfort out
And all the poison in.

Take it, damn you.
Cant you see?
I am a taker, I never give.
To you, I offer one small thing.
Believe me,
It hurts me as much to offer
As it hurts you to ignore.

You would hate me if you knew me
But that is not the case.
In this context you could

UntitledI try to be so strong
Only cry when I'm alone
I try to never give up
But sometimes I can't go on.
If I can see it coming
I can take most anything.
It's life's nastier surprises
That have me on my knees.

When demons of my past
Come knocking on the door
I try to keep them locked outside
But they're crawling through the floor
I'm lost here in this darkened room
I used to call my mind
I need someone to save me
Or they'll kill me this time.

Where I'll be tomorrow
Is something I don't know
'Cause life never seems to
Want to let me take it slow.
Without seeing the future
All I have with me's the past.
In the present I'm a

Woman of the EarthWho would I be?
I would be a woman of the earth.
Planting seeds, nurturing life;
I would sense the warmth in seedlings
Feel the blood of trees cool against my cheek
So close beneath their skin.

What would I be?
I would be a woman of the earth.
Feeling nature's love,
I would radiate that love to others.
Feeling the pull of the moon on the oceans,
Sense a stirring in my own blood.
And in summers heat and in winter's cold
Rest in the peace of all ages combined.

What would I be?
I would be a woman of the earth.
My roots firmly fixed in the soil,
Weathering out storms
I would feel the great pounding heart of the earth h

The Flat Of My BackThis song was written from the flat of my back.
It was the only place I could be
Life hit me so hard, left my soul a broken shard.
So I wrote this song from the flat… of my back.

This song was written from the flat of my back.
Dark was all I wanted to see.
Heard you were dead, the sorrow went to my head.
So I wrote this song from the flat… of my back.

This song was written from the flat of my back.
Wars and armies took you from me.
My love I give, without you I don't want to live.
So I wrote this song from the flat… of my back.

This song was written from the flat of my back.
It's where I wanted to be.
I'll make no more wa

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four walls

by ~Panther-Nora, Jul 18, 2004, 10:30:59 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I know these four walls
I built them.

I know these four walls
Know these ancient blood stains
The blood was mine.

I know these four walls
Know the smooth parts
Washed by a thousand tears
The tears were mine.

I know these four walls.

I know these four walls
Know the false comfort
Know the deceptive peace
Once found inside.

I know these four walls
Know the pain they lock inside
The pain they breed.

I know these four walls
I built them.

Set me free.

four wallsby ~Panther-Nora

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I just sat down and wrote this. At the moment I like it, but I may not in the morning and it may be deleted soon.
It pretty much says how I feel right now.

~Sammy-Jo Nov 30, 2004 Writer

Great

~Panther-Nora Nov 30, 2004

thanks

~Sammy-Jo Nov 30, 2004 Writer

Welcome

~missy-star Nov 19, 2004

Lovely repitition, and the way it ends - 'set me free'.

~Panther-Nora Nov 19, 2004

That's just how it felt at the moment.
Thank you.

~DarknessCyShadow Aug 20, 2004

I used to have a room just like that...

I fell into it shortly after my life was destroyed by loss.... I thought there was no way out- But there was--- I got out-and since then life has improved for me.

Its a great poem---I've always said that great poems make the reader think- and it made me think quite a bit.

~Panther-Nora Aug 20, 2004

I'm glad it made you think. Thank you.

~Kriasai Aug 6, 2004

Jeesh, I am in such awe of you!

~Panther-Nora Aug 6, 2004

Thanks Liz.
*blushes* I didnt think it was THAT good.

~Kyaku Jul 28, 2004

hello
great job--a lot of depth, such depth of feelings is usually lost when articulated but you pulled through
awesome.

p.s. i figure if you created the walls, you are the only one who can set yourself free, as cliche as it sounds

L8R

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four walls

four wallsby ~Panther-Nora

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