Sta.sh
  on 2/24/2013 |
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summer homei've rearranged the rooms of my chestsummer home by *Hfeather53
to make room for you.
i won't say it didn't hurt
to make myself your Adam;
removing rib
after rib
until you found a comfortable perch.
there, beneath my unguarded breast,
you construct your nest of
every lovely thing you've come to love
about me
(while the rest of me flaps wildly
like moth wings against the cold walls
of my exposed heart).
i should've known you'd leave
when winter froze me.
don't apologize [for the ache].
you kept the beautiful bits of me
warm
(while they died).
to be a floristcut me.to be a florist by *Hfeather53
press your metal into my spine.
thread it gracefully
along my insides and out
the nape of my neck.
twirl it gently (don't
hurt yourself) around my skin.
boast proudly, how you shaped me,
how you spun me in your arms,
how you affixed my gaze upright...
how you made me look so perfect
while i slowly turned and died.
and I still keep running into parked carsMama,and I still keep running into parked cars by *Hfeather53
your baby girl's swimming
in dead of the night
hair, scarred knees,
overgrown weeds, and
countless pairs
of shoes-
with those
orange and yellow wheels
that hug my toes
and heels
I'm running into
parked cars
trying to get
my kite to fly
and hiding under
dashboards
listening to you
fight
I'm rummaging through
boxes of secrets
that Daddy tried
to hide-
solving puzzles with pieces
I'll never uncover
in these thoughts
of you
| on 2/24/2013 |
prescribed avoidancei'm tired of searching.prescribed avoidance by *Hfeather53
most i know
hunt for answers;
i believe they've yet to reach
a place of acceptance.
sometimes,
things are just
the way they are
and sometimes it isn't starlight in our eyes, lover;
mostly it's the fight within.
the tides recede
and leave me with blank spaces to fill in.
i was never good at
coloring inside the lines.
keep looking for it and i'll
keep looking for the right words
to express the grief of hope gone,
inked over with an
unsteady hand.
i'm exploring the thesaurus
trying to find new ways to say
what everyone else is warring to ignore.
nearsightedi.nearsighted by *Hfeather53
you spoke at breakneck speeds,
with the urgency of an alarm's wail,
and i tried to absorb all of you;
but the fog of me
spit back your high-beams and blinded us both.
ii.
i was never one to back down from a challenge
and we were, side by side,
double and triple dog daring each other
to accelerate blindly and coast into madness.
iii.
i would run you into that ditch again
as long as you promise
to stitch back the pieces of me
that stained the grey brick red.
justi am everything i never wanted to be.just by *Hfeather53
it's funny to realize,
five years ago i would've looked at me and thought,
"you
are the worst kind
of lost because you don't even know it,"
and now,
i see that's what i was before.
but i'm still just a fraction
of an idea
that tries so hard to show itself.
others say
i should
speak louder,
sing louder,
just
be
louder;
but i was born with vocal cords covered in
bubble wrap.
my fingers curled in,
with my arms pushing against my chest
in an x
because it marked the spot
i often fight to fill,
while
everyone else was armed with pitchforks and shovels and i clutched tightly
with my fingernails
and screamed
at the moon's blood-orange light
that ran into my mouth and down my throat to bloat
and scrape
and carve its name into the nest of space that was meant for my heart.
i am
not
a work of art
just a work of the everything's wrong in this time;
just a girl
born with just enough
to want a taste of love
from
and for the world.
Keepsakes and AnathemaI boxed up the remnantsKeepsakes and Anathema by *Hfeather53
That remain in my heart
And waited for you to commandeer them.
But six days you lingered instead,
A wind-whipped shadow
On the fringe of our burning garden;
Tiptoeing over fresh wet-stones
In hopes of breaking my hope-brittle spine.
Your Genesis of betrayal;
Adam’s obsessions filtered through
Cain’s heart,
And somehow I now bear the mark.
There, but for the amusement of God, go I;
Branded and baked, as I shovel soot.
"Keepsakes,"
I'll whisper to each flake
Fallen upon eyelashes.
Today, coupled with regret,
Weighs muddily grey on my eyes.
Anathema,
A wanderer,
I'll trudge forever through your vicious
bridgesrivers rush beneath my ledge of hope.bridges by *Hfeather53
they've caged me in,
but my heart plunges towards its lullaby anyway;
it's beautiful,
it's terrifying,
and it's selfish.
but i am rarely selfish -
except for moments like these
when i let my mind wander and convince my heart it's ok to want.
it's ok to be free.
we're only window shopping for a better tomorrow
because we're tired of yesterdays
and todays;
and it's ok to want something better
(even if we've no clue what it'll look like when we find it
and we're frightened we'll miss it).
we're afraid it'll drift by as we
play with our imaginary fires,
with our ideas of better days;
of better lovers
who ar
I have seenbut I do not believe.I have seen by *0hgravity
ZOMG.
A DD!!!
well I'm just speechless... and humbled and all kinds of shocked and excited.
thank you. THANK YOU.
Thanks, *intricately-ordinary, for the suggestion! :iconsupertighthugplz:
and thank you ^neurotype for featuring it!
and thank you to everyone who's read, commented and/or faved the piece!
well here it is: for those of you interested
---
some more thanking is in order, though! *imaginative-lioness has me as one of her literature roadtrip things-to-see, I guess I'll say. really interesting project she's started and it seems to be catching quite a bit of fire in the lit community. I may, if time allows, give it a try! no promises though, haha. I'm just honored to be part of the first roadtrip. here is the group: http://l
Four Things She Thought About Before She Jumped1.Four Things She Thought About Before She Jumped by ~CyneNoir
She thought about her sister and how the shape of her face
became foreign in certain light, as if carved by the hands of a man
who had spent too much time on oil and canvas
to remember his own skin. Her eyes began to resemble chips of ice
as they filled with rainwater; the world like a river
that runs over them and
through them
without touching.
She thought about her sister
trying to talk in her sleep—
the way her tongue flapped uselessly
about her mouth, a coil of smooth muscle pinning itself
to her teeth. It spat syllables
like broken stones. She thought about her sister spread across
the bed sheets, palms turned upw
Cosmic SymphonyThe notes build up deep within youCosmic Symphony by =LadyofGaerdon
burning at your core
snaking through your veins until your skin hums red-hot with fire.
They say the sun is hottest
when you are just barely out of reach.
It is there you shall ignite.
But if I managed
to slip past your blistering corona
past the halo of light that surrounds you -
and stroke your scorching surface
would I find the right
to burn with you?
And maybe
I could learn to play you
like the instrument you are.
Helios, god of the sun,
your surface shudders with sound,
melodious vibrations
unfit for such ears as mine.
Yet still I wonder what you would sound like
if my hands would not
Aries - Written in the Stars EntryA fronte praecipitium a tergo lupiAries - Written in the Stars Entry by ~PrideofPanem
And over the edge,
just over the edge,
The whales and the fish wait for me to fall.
The wolves gather,
and I cannot shove them away or ignore them.
I must keep running,
I must keep fighting,
Constantly running through the stars,
but here I am at the edge of the sea,
with the wolves before, and the waves below.
Abyssus abyssum invocat
And I am in the middle.
I must remember now more than ever.
I am not just a god of War,
I'm an animal who's headstrong and heart sore.
.: JuneAnother feature journal, with only a little bit of talk from me. I've had a lot more time recently to read poetry that I think is worth sharing. I've also been thinking about doing a couple of things and would like to see if there are any opinions/interest out there..: June by =creativelycliche
First, the features:
There they are: all wonderful, all worth a read if you have time.
As for the other things, there are two:
one:
occasionally I think I could record myself reading some of my poetry. I usually decide that I'm way too much of a chicken to actually do it, but I wonder if anyone even thinks that's a good idea.
two:
recently I have found a fairly inexpensive way to make available physical books, and I have been thinking about doing that with my book of poetry, Selling the Sunrise (which is still available digitally for free here, btw:
for all intensive purposesi am accused of beingfor all intensive purposes by *linaket
a category five--
but i will not excuse the way my skin aches.
i want storms.
i remember the way Katrina screamed &
if you press your ear to my chest you will hear the same.
the moan turning into a pitch, the pitch
screaming until the throat is too raw to be
more than a whimper.
the way it stops
and pauses,
silently racked until it bursts forth once more.
i will not apologize for being demolition.
scars exist on every woman
too powerful to contain herself.
6:30:09what i wouldn't give6:30:09 by ~em-arginated
to have my body sink down
into yours, cocooned
in the tumultuous quicksand
of human flesh.
i have never been so moved
as by your touch, the slinking seeping
brush. the universe dispels
and in the absence of everything,
i am less alone
than i have ever been.
when your song is caught in the ghost of your throat and you swear you will never sleep the same: (the innocent do not recall their dreams) they say you will make it through. carved into the wall in a depressed realist’s riddles, redemption sits on the bank of a river clear enough to see your face (solid enough to clear your head) and every parable, every god-sent syllable, every lullaby lost in the wind, coos like a feathered fable that you were made for this. not paper and porcelain, like the girls of magazines with stories to tell and smiles to sell and ashes to go home and sleep in; but of metal. silver and gold and metallic petals, cold to the touch, but durable (and oh so beautiful; they see you and know you are not the same carnal flesh and feeble blood, but they feel within their fickle-y faded hearts that you are truly beautiful) you were built for this. nameless whispers to a silent night, tasteless replies birth fears of isolation, self-imposed unattention , and I-wasn’t-cut-out-for-this, and I know, I know, breathing is the test you did not study for; in this constant state of learning to forget, you don’t know how to be alive but you are the strength that builds mountains and carves dreams and personifies the wish and wonder and fantasy little girls need; you help me to remember this: we will make it through. |
 Heather looks at the world as a musical script, composing the melodies of emotions, each sentence she uses, bounces off the next and creates a striking connection that makes her readers want to jump in. She has grasped how to use words in a way that animates and stands out on the page. She is a true poet.      Heather's poetry sings. It croons like Billie Holiday, rocks like Robert Plant, and records hurts like Johnny Cash. Her poetry will sing to you. You will become so engrossed in her words, you will find you must replay them, again and again. She thoroughly engrosses her readers into each poem's persona, and leaves you contemplative. Check out her gallery!!  Hfeather53 has an emotive and passionate style. Each piece like a drop of blood from her own heart. She has a unique way of making each work relatable to everyone, by being blatantly honest and real about some of the most common aspects of the human condition. Even with the commonality of topic, she brings a refreshing tone to each by breathing her own life into them. Intertwining deep emotion with raw and breath-taking imagery that leaves you nodding, smiling, crying or raging right along with her.  Hfeather53 has the wonderful ability to connect readers to a heart written honestly upon the page. She writes in a skilled rhythm about aspects of life we all can appreciate. Her lines are fresh glimpses of reality and instilling glimpses of our most curious emotions. Her pieces are beautiful expressions of the struggles but also the lovely moments so many of us experience.  Hfeather53 gets to the heart of the subject matter with her words. Her poetry is emotional and flows off the tongue smoothly; she leaves you thinking at the end of every poem. Kind to everyone she talks to, she is bound to make you smile, laugh, and hurt with the pieces in her gallery. You're bound to find something in Hfeather53's gallery that appeals to you! |
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=Sammur-amat I ADORE YOU 
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there must be humor present.
controversial or hateful humor is prohibited.
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