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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
For every boy I ever kissedi.

you took my hand 'neath the magnolia
at a christmas dinner party I held.
your mouth was cold. so were my affections.

ii.

you were the first man to listen to me.
i let you listen to my heartbeat; but
when the day fell away, you bruised me deep.

iii.

you were my safe harbour, and i your storm
turning your misery to naught but air
but i squirmed away from your tongue, repulsed.

iv.

you were my cradle, when i couldn't sleep
you would hold me close and pray for something,
anything, to keep me safe. (it was you).

v.

eleven months spent sleeping with my phone,
i still couldn't believe when you kissed me
even after midnight struck us agai
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.
Broken Birds and Stark PhrasesWe slip and slide and fall
down curves and carrow places.
We cursive at the wall
in our undefinéd spaces.

Disjointed limbs extend
to strumpet our arrival,
to warn who are not friends
we will kill to survive all.

Hung upside-down haunters
hug branches in the Forrest.
Merry nightmare monsters,
Cheery snarling chorus,

Arachnic children know;
you can run but you can't hide
from this disparic truth,
darkness waits for you inside.

Although you seek the sun,
as all creaky spinsters might,
the night can't be out done
and it has you in its sight.
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
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.
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
The PoetFor the work of a Poet to be truly appreciated
he must write it with his own blood and tears for ink
his soul the sharpened quill to nail the words
like so many specimen of unwilling insects upon the paper.

And once he has bled out
becoming the cause of his own demise
the reader is left behind to digest his soul
so plainly trapped within a cage of words
his requiem written as a love song to his Muse.
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
thieves of nocturne skiesPaper lanterns                                                                                            are midnight requiems
            That tell me                                                                            to look beyond the
                   light and have    &
Monday, Erased and Re-WrittenDawn broke brittle Monday morning, the sky cracked like eggs
(All done in silence beneath the roaring of my tinnitus)
Twenty 'til something and I'm driving out into blazing light
Looking for what, I won't know 'til its found but its
Just so damned bright and quiet and I think of a sniper in the clock tower
Fallen asleep waiting to pick off his targets but how can he sleep
in this goddamned brightness and nothings moving anywhere
Empty streets, has the world called in sick this morning?

Am I awake? Am I alive? Am I in a movie, maybe a character
in someone's book? Why don't I feel anything? Am I waiting for
the writer to tell me how I feel,
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More from ~leighbain

Chapter 2: Silent Intruder"The trouble with most people is that they think with their hopes or fears or wishes rather than with their minds."
- WilLeom Durant

Stepping lightly along the worn wooden floors beneath her frail toes; she curled her wispy fingers around the banister. She slowly drifting upwards towards the scent she was hunting, careful not to touch the delicate boards that might creak in their age giving her presence away. Reaching the top, she twirled like a twisted ballerina in her excitement. With a hint of a smile she wafted darkly towards the door on her left; one of many that lined the hallway. Pressing herself against it, she could smell her prey,
Chapter 1: A Fresh Start“No river can return to its source, yet all rivers must have a beginning”
- Native American Proverb

Slipping through the cold, black night, the young man adjusted the rucksack’s thin straps and picked up his pace. Arriving at a small cottage in the middle of the woods, he rapped softly on the hard wooden door. With a creak the door opened slowly and an elderly woman stepped out, “We must hurry, there isn’t much time, did you bring it?”

Patting the rucksack behind him, the young man nodded, as the woman gave simple instructions, “Good, keep it covered up, it’s quite chilly tonight.”

The two set
If God ExistI have trouble
Seeing and
believing if God
exists.

My body bends
And pops
It creaks, it
moans.

It Horrifies some
by doing things
that no other body
Should.

My body hurts
And aches
It screams it
groans.

There are things
That ails
us all that
Shouldn't.

Yet I move on
With another
Snap, crackle,
pop.

I'm not a freak
Nor a
Cirque du Soliel
artist.

There are trials
and pitfalls
that other's don't
Have.

I shouldn't have to suffer
I shouldn't have to see
My husband in tears over
me.

I'm only human
So I'm sure
He'll Understand, Why I
Question.

If I have a little trouble
That in a just world
If God exis
My Dearest Woobie
You're surgery was
Quite the success!
I've learned my lesson well.
My silly, sister egged me on
to clip your knotted scallop.
Mangling your precious holes,
you unraveled before my very eyes!
Dying at my feet, you laid
once whole, now two halves remain.
My mother's hands saved you, (of course,
with my added supply of tears and sniffles).
So, whole again, repaired and recovered,
We dash out to the forest,
My dearest Woobie,
For our next escapade!
These Hazel Eyes
Deep within
These hazel eyes,
A child's smile,
A gentle at heart.

Deep within
These hazel eyes,
A flame burns bright
For you to see me

Deep within
These hazel eyes,
I'm only human
Can't all be forgiven?

Deep within
These hazel eyes,
You gaze beyond
And never see

Deep within
These hazel eyes,
A new spark burns
A new love grows

Deep within
These hazel eyes,
Mother, father,
Your time is up. For,

Deep within
These hazel eyes,
My new life begins
Just me and him.
Princess
Soft white fur specked with chocolate just where it counts
Regal blue eyes tell all who truly owns this house.

She struts like a princess carefully examining every room she enters
Primping and preening her coat, should a piece fall out of place.

Whining if her food dish is not filled high enough,
Or if the lowly pauper should wander too close;

With a burst of energy, she dashes here and there.
Stopping just short ~ should another eye catch her at play

Tilting her head, graciously reminding all,
'Princesses don't play, we here to be admired'

Finding her favorite place to relax,
She'll turn to jump onto the bed

But alas, even princ

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Some Families

:iconleighbain:

Some families don’t agree,
Some families don’t mingle,
Some families are just too different,
And if I had a million dollars,
I'd run away to another place.
Maybe then they'll understand that
It’s okay to not agree,
It’s okay to not mingle,
It’s okay to be this different,
And maybe with time,
They’ll come to understand,
Why I prefer to love them from afar.
:iconleighbain:
This was written with a contest tag line of "If I had a million dollars" in mind and it turned into a life of it's own reflecting the relationship I have with my family. As you can see, I'm fine with things the way they are.
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