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Cinderella
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.
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
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
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.
insomnia to keep you closefalling asleep with the windows
open, with morning curling
around you like a drop of blue
ink in a glass of water,
turquoise and unwritten;

remembering when early dawn
was a secret you kept
in a soft, aortic pocket—

your dead lighter spinning
to the floor of Lake Ontario,
a halo of its bygone, synergetic flame.
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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
Anatomic and foreign inside of youAt times, I thought that roadmap
in your chest was the reason why I gathered
dust at night.

But one day,
on the coldest afternoon,
I dwelled in your body
through your eyelids

and travelled through these streets
long enough to know that your unexplained hunger
wasn't going to cease-
I was barefoot in the days
where the sun scorched its rage
on every drop of sweat hiding in my nape
that they gave up and ran away,

like little gypsies looking for an oasis
to build their tents in,
standing on bare sand dunes-
relieved that the prejudice of their pagan artistry
was replaced with acres
and acres of dry, barren landscape.

This was how I striv
Browse More Like This

More from ~whisper92

A Random SnippetWith a groan, Nyx rubbed her head and gritted her teeth. The first thing that occurred to her was that the ground on which her head rested was nothing like the pillow she would have preferred. The next thing she noticed was the cold numbness about her temple and the thick scent of iron congesting up her sensitive sinuses. Grimacing, the cherub attempted to rise, but could only lift herself by the elbows before her temple began to throb with excruciating pain. Where was she, how had she gotten there?

Opening her sore, violet eyes, Nyx cursed inaudibly, or perhaps simply in her mind. She could not tell and she did not care. What now perplexed

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Etched in His Eyes

:iconwhisper92:

Look at her little fingers
And tiny toes
Her entire hand can barely hold
Dad's finger when he tickles Baby's nose.
This is our girl – this is our love
How the universe does sparkle
And the sky does sing
The melody lies
Behind Baby's blue eyes
Life is hers to discover
At just a few hours old

Astronaut, Physicist, Lawyer, Doctor –
Our sweet little girl will conquer it all
The world will revel
At the answers she'll find
As she opens more doors
And saves humankind.

Look at him now
Look, Dear, look!
As our little boy eagerly, unsteadily
walks over to Mom.
On a tightrope he falters
With the occasional fall
But those dimples never waver
And the pride only grows
When he finally tugs on Mommy's clothes.
How the roads do beckon
And the potential serenades
Softly, vividly behind Baby's blue eyes.
Life is his path to mark
At just two years old.

President, Ambassador, Rocket Scientist, Writer -
Our beautiful boy will conquer it all.
The world will revel
At the answers he'll find
As he opens more doors
And saves humankind.

Look, Dear, please
How I wish you were here
I know you are watching – I know you are proud
Of our sweet little girl
With her head in the clouds
She's smart, witty
Beautiful, too...
My God, how our baby reminds me of you
Each time a new boy knocks at the door
The first time she kissed me goodbye
And left red on my cheek
One-hundred-and-one heart attacks
and still counting
My pride is a fever that never breaks
The icy terror has left me numb.
I'm so scared, Dear
Why aren't you here?
Life is robbing her away from me
At just sixteen years old.

Artist, Dancer, Author, Actress
Daddy's little girl will conquer it all
The world will revel
At the answers she'll find
As she opens more doors
And saves humankind.

Look at him now,
with his childhood neatly packed away
In the back of his closet.
A campus map in one hand
Mom's heart in the other
The years have made their impression.
The valor, the passion
No longer delude his stone blue eyes
With two heavy hugs
One last glance back
and the world on his shoulders
He puts happiness on the back burner
With books on the brain.
Life is his mess to clean up now,
At just eighteen years young.

Astronaut, Rocket Scientist, Artist, Actor –
They truly expected him to do it all.
But the world just shrugs
As he joins the current
Like clockwork down the mainstream
Under pressure, he's lost hold
Because dreams bear no substance
In a world of gold.

73

3 3 3
:iconwhisper92:

Etched in His Eyesby ~whisper92

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Inspired by my waning youth. I am not looking forward to the life outside my high school cage
©2008-2013 ~whisper92
Category: Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

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Submitted on
October 26, 2008
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:iconxxshattered2piecesxx:
~xXshattered2piecesXx Oct 26, 2008   Writer
Wow, that was really good.

It has so much meaning behind it.

great job, I love it.
Reply
:iconwhisper92:
~whisper92 Oct 26, 2008
Thanks so much, it means a lot, it really does
Reply
:iconxxshattered2piecesxx:
~xXshattered2piecesXx Oct 26, 2008   Writer
You're so welcome.

This is probably one of my favorite 'growing up' poems, because someimtes they're just too raw if you know what I mean. This one kind of captures the rawness of it, but also the part where you know it has to happen. Then I loved the beginning, it had the lightness of childhood and growing up in a different sense that not a lot of people put into poems like this. I just really like it. It's almost like comparing growing up from a little kid, into a teenager, and from a teenager into an adult and how different the two phases of growing up can be.

And once again you're welcome, and your poem is amazing.

^.^
Reply
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