My Path is Up to Me

I walk along a shaded path
At times the beauty shines
And other times the path is dark
And almost seems to bleak
I’m coming to a crossroads soon
A place where the path splits
Ad in my mind I see the path
That follows from each choice

In one direction I will find
All my good dreams come true
The sun shines bright
The birds sing out
And colors ring more true
Down the second path I find
The same is not quite true
Although there still is beauty
The birds don’t sing as loud
The colors are a little dulled
The sun not quite as bright

So which road will I travel on
The choice is up to me
But the choice is not so simple
As it may seem to be
Somewhere behind me on the path
There is a power there
That pushes me to make a choice
To go the second path

Since the day I passed the point
Where lurks that hidden power
I knew one day it would hold me back
From where I wished to be
So now I push against that power
I try to test it’s strength
And as I push against it
My own strength seems to grow

As so as I grow closer
To that fork that lies ahead
That push it loses power
And I learn to lift my head
And look towards that first path
For I strive to overcome the push
Towards the second one

My hope is getting stronger
With each step I take ahead
That when I reach the point at which
Diverging roads I find
I’ll turn and take the first path
Where the sunshine calls my name
Where birds sing out and colors glow
Where all good dreams come true

Source: This is a fun story, I wrote this poem while working at Walmart mostly while I was on the self-checkout registers. I was bored and was just thinking and this poem started to take form, so I wrote it on some extra receipt tape paper.

You Can Touch My Heart

Around my heart I’ve built a wall
Keeping it safe
Safe from being hurt
But alone,
Apart from others

Afraid to trust
I push others away
I can’t trust their love for me
By habit I turn away
From their outstretched arms

All who reach for me
Find that wall
And cannot breach it’s width
All except one person
Somehow, you can touch my heart

Something in your eyes,
In your words
In your support
Tells me you are different
You are safe

Your love I can trust
The only one that I never
push away
I allow you to be
My shoulder to cry on

I never doubt you
Never doubt that you love me
Somehow with you
My habit is broken
I don’t turn away

You are the only one
I turn to without reserve
And in my trust of you
I see a chance
To overcome a habit

If you can touch my heart
And I remain unhurt
Maybe others can too
And through your love
I find my tools

The tools to break a habit
To tear down a wall
Learning how to trust
How to stand
Instead of turning away

Source: I wrote this the other day because I was thinking about some things in my life.

If I Could Take Your Pain Away

If I could take your pain away
And heal your broken heart
I’d surely do it just for you
Today I’d make my start.

I’d help you learn to trust again
And not to be afraid
I’d stand there by your side all day
As you learned to be brave

I’d help you realize your mistakes
Won’t matter in the end
As long as you can let them go
And not do them again

If I could take your pain away
And open your eyes to see
That superficial doesn’t matter
Then I would set you free

I’d like to help you see your strengths
Instead of all your flaws
Then maybe you could overcome
What holds your life at pause

I’d help you realize that one day
You’ll find the special one
And teach you not to give up yet
You’ve only just begun

If I could take away your pain
Of all the lonely years
I’d take away the memories
That almost cause you tears.

I’d like for you to realize that
The problem wasn’t you
That the others don’t know how to judge
What makes a person true

I’d help you see that in the end
Your worth is just as great
And that you’re just as special as
The one who got the date

If I could take away the pain
That my friends suffer through
I’d gladly do it all right now
My love for them is true

It’s not hard for me to trust the pow’r
Of the love I have for them
That I could care, or do that much
To help them through the end

And yet when I go through my pains
It’s hard for me to see
That someone out there cares that much
For little worthless me

I see their worth, but not my own
And so I can’t believe
That someone very powerful
Wants to be my reprieve

So moments when I need it most
I cannot seem to see
The person who is standing there
And saying this to me

I’m here to take your pain away
To heal your broken heart
If you’ll just let me in your life
Today I’ll make my start.

I’ll teach you how to trust again
Help you when you’re afraid
I’m always here right by your side
Just trust me and be brave

I wish you knew that your mistakes
Were long ago forgiven
Once your path turned back to me and
Back to righteous living

I’m here to take your pain away
And open your eyes to see
That to me you are beautiful
Let that knowledge set you free

I’m here to show you how your strengths
Can overcome your flaws
I’m here to help you see the way
To live instead of pause

I’m here to help you realize that
I know you’ll find someone
I’m asking please don’t give up
For your life has just begun

I’m here to take the pain away
Of all your lonely years
I’ll soften every memory
I’m here to dry your tears

I’m here to make you realize that
The problem is never you
That those who really matter know
Your heart is pure and true

I’m here to help you see your worth
Your divinity so great
That those who see your true beauty
Would proudly be your date

I’m here to take away the pain
The sorrows and the tears
I’m here to heal your broken heart
To help you all your years

I’ve loved you so for many years
I knew you at the start
And because I know your true worth
You hold a place in my heart

I hope that now you realize that
My love for you is true
And with the power of my love
I did all I could do

I suffered all your loneliness
And all your tears I’ve cried
And then because I love you so
It was for you I died

Now I can take your pain away
Just open up your heart
And with the love I have for you
Today we’ll make a start

Source: I was thinking about everything my friends have to go through, and about how I had written in a while, when I decided to write something about how I wish I could help my friends, and this was the result.

Dad

When I was young
I learned the songs
About the man called “Dad”
and I thought mine was just the best
that any child ever had

He taught me to bike
And then how to hike
And many other things
He held me close as the years passed
And I tested my wings

Sometimes I tried
To spread them wide
but he would hold me still
because he always knew whats best
and went against my will

So I’d get mad
And he’d get sad
And we’d get in a fight
Until I wisened up a bit
And saw that Dad was right

And still sometimes
I lose my mind
And forget what he knows
But patiently he loves me still
The right pathway he shows

The years have passed
I’ve had a blast
With Dad, my favorite man
But children grow, and they leave home
And pack the moving “van”

I waved goodbye
And with a sigh
I left his loving arms
And so my wings I finally spread
And moved into a dorm

The day will come
When I’m from home
That I will meet a lad
And soon I’ll love him just as much
As the man I call Dad

But even then
When both those men
Are the best to be had
I hope he knows how much I love
The man I call my “Dad”

And to the end
He’ll be my friend
My Daddy through all things
Because of him and all he taught
I’ve learned to use my wings.

Source: My Father's Day gift to my Dad was this peom

Mom

My little hand you held so tight,
As I first learned to walk
You dried my tears
Met all my cares
And taught me how to talk

When I would fall
You’d help me stand
And tell me, try again
Just don’t give in
Again, you’d hold me hand

I went to school, I learned to read
To multiply, and add
But it was you
Who saw me through
As I learned good from bad

Perhaps at times I couldn’t see
How much I needed you
Yet there you were
My constant cure
For all that I went through

So many times I turned to you
You saw me through it all
Through broken toys
And friends and boys
Your love helped me stand tall

And now so many years have passed,
I stand on my own now
When troubles come
I face them all
Because you taught me how

Yet still sometimes I turn to you
And still you hold my hand
You dry my tears
And meet my cares
Just like you always have

As years pass by and I recall
The memories we share
I think of you
And all you do
To show how much you care

And so to you, I give my thanks
For all you gave to me
For who you are
And who I am
And who one day I’ll be

I hope one day when you’ve grown old
And my own children come
I will have earned
Just like you did
The loving title, “Mom”

Source:Written as a gift to my Mom for mother's day

Release

Feeling suffocated,
Pressured, stressed, depressed.
Feeling like I’m going to break
Like I need a release.
A release of tears.

The feeling that I need a good cry,
Wanting it, willing it,
Wishing it would come.
So I could just let go.

Adding to the pressure,
Stress, sorrow, joy.
All the reasons I always cry,
My reasons for the release.

The tears won’t come.
What changed,
Have I cried so much
I no longer can
Not possible, crying is my release.

I need to be able to cry
But the tears won’t come.
Praying for the release.

Source:Written the summer before college, I was really emotional about some things and writing helped

Letting Go

It seems I’ve reached a point in life
Where one must stop and pause
And think and feel and ponder
For a needed but sad cause

At first I was lost
And did not see
What this time of life was for
It only confused me

And then suddenly it all made sense
What this point of life was for
A time to let go, of all I have been
And my heart’s a little sore

Letting go, simple phrase
That’s all I have to do
But how do you leave behind
All that has made up you

The confusion is a little less
I understand the time
But to go through with it’s request
Feels almost like a crime

How can I leave behind my past
Forget who I have been
And yet to not learn and grow
Would also be a sin

My heart it cries
And does no know
If it wants to hold on
Or is ready to let go

I’ve heard a song
A poignant tune
About this “letting go”
I’ll listen to it soon

And listen to the words it says
About the healing power
Of letting go of the past
Though at first it may feel sour

How life moves on
And time goes by
And moving on
Comes with a sigh

But in the end it’s for the best
I know this truth and so,
Although it hurts to think about
I’ll face this “letting go”

I’ll leave behind the child I’ve been
The young women I’ve become
And as I grow I’ll keep in mind
The song I know, and hum

So time will pass
More change I’ll see
But through letting go
I’ll find the new me

Source: Written the summer before college

Confusion

It’s interesting; I’ve never been one to ignore my feelings and emotions. I’m one of the most emotional girls you could ever meet. It’s who I am, it’s just my nature. Yet, for the past three weeks, I have been ignoring the emotions and thoughts that are spinning around in my head. It’s not necessarily that I want to, it’s more that I have to. They are in such a tangled mess, everything connected and yet making no sense, that to face them, to try and examine them, would only leave me in a state of utter confusion. I find it interesting that I know enough about the mess in my head to realize this, and yet I won’t look any further into them.

Perhaps I stall examining them because for just a little while, I had finally put my old issues and emotions to rest, and was finally able to get rid of all the confusion they had brought. Now, I think I just want time to bask in the peace of not having that confusion. So, I put off facing my new emotions for as long as possible. However, this doesn’t keep my peace. Instead my thoughts are on ignoring the thoughts and emotions I really need to face. This means I find myself in a predicament; Do I continue trying to hold on to the present peace by ignoring the tangles in my mind, or do I face that tangle and hope to reach a new peace on the other side of the knots I have to untie? This decision I face, is the first step in untying those knots. Now I wonder, am I ready to start that? Do I have the energy? Sometimes I fear I don’t, and so I hold back, though part of me is aching to face those knots, and organize the confusion.

Source:Written the summer before college, I had a lot of conflicting emotions and wrote to clear my head.

The Spring of My Youth

For months, even years, I had been existing in winter. Its cold, bleak, and bare views the only thing in view on the landscape of my life. No colors, no green, no vibrancy, and in all truth, no life. My heart and soul had been frozen by experiences they found impossible to stand against, and at times I thought they’d never thaw. The cold, lonely hopelessness kept it’s grip on me for far too long, but deep down inside me something protested.

From the depths of my soul, warmth started to flow, to expand and reach. Soon, the sun started to shine again. The warmth began to thaw my frozen heart and soul. My healing tears were symbolic of the ever present water of spring. Slowly I’ve watched flowers and buds begin to reappear in my life, and the color begin to return. Now I look at my life and see something beautiful and exquisite, and full-fledged, smile bringing, breathe-deeply, peaceful spring.

Somehow I survived that long winter, to make it to this breath taking spring, and this victory will give me courage to face future winters. Because I know, they will always be followed by a beautiful spring.

Source: I wrote this in my writing notebook sometime during my creative writing class

Whispers of the Past

When Memorial Day comes
I visit the graves,
Of family that came
Before and passed on

It’s a strange,
This I know
But still it is true
In the cemeteries
I feel a peace
Unknown other places

I’ve thought and pondered
The cause of this peace
This strange situation
I find myself in
I believe I have come
To a brief explanation
The cause of the peace,
Whispers of the Past

While sitting in front
Of a loved ones tombstone,
The wind gently blows,
A whisper of the past
Those buried below
And lying in peace
Reveal to me a secret

“We made it” they whisper
“and so you can too,
Just hold up your head
And have faith in the truth
Don’t forget what we did
To give you what you have
And live so that you
Can pass something on
To the future”

This secret they whisper
Gives me faith
In where I come from
And the point I am at
And where I can head
As the future comes.

So in the cemetery,
The resting place of
Those gone before
I gain peace
From the message shared
From Whispers of the Past

Source: For some reason I love memorial day, and cemeteries, and looking at headstones, i was thinking about why one day, and this is kind of what I came up with.

Pathways

Once we traveled along different pathways, but only a few separate paths. Each of us had a group, to travel with along the path, to stay with, a safety net of friends. As we traveled along our paths, those different ones began to converge. They grew closer together, until two or three joined into one, and soon there were fewer. More time passed and the paths grew closer again. Finally, one day, all our different paths joined into one. One large path, wide enough that each person had a slightly different journey, but still, we all traveled the same path. For a long time we walked this pathway, side by side. As we journeyed, we reached out to each other, and made new friends. We learned more about those around us, and more about ourselves. That journey was one we all knew we must take in life, and one we learned to enjoy taking, together.
Now, that journey is over. Just when we had begun to grow restless of our pathway, we came to a fork in the road. This fork however, split of in seemingly countless different ways, and as we looked down some of the paths, more forks could be seen ahead. We understood that the time had come for us to take our separate journeys. Some, we would have no problem saying a final farewell to. Others, we could hardly imagine life without. As we all stood looking at the separate pathways, voices began to be heard, from those different paths, calling out to each of us. Separately though, meant for one person, or maybe a few. Instead of the seemingly collective ones we once all heard. As the voices came, so did the choices, the decisions, made by each of us as to which path we would take. As we each made a personal decision, we turned to friends, had they made the same ones? Some had, and sadly, some hadn’t. Somehow we all knew when the time would come, when we would have to start down our new paths. We faced the fact that goodbyes had to be made, and began to make them. Some were harder then others, forcing us to linger, just for a time, in the past, when we all journeyed together.
Right now, I linger, looking down the path I know I must take. For me, I my journey does not start yet, and I remain with those of my friends who still have to journey. Yet, I have taken my first steps onto my path. As I look back, on that long, wide, path we all shared together, my thoughts and emotions are so jumbled I can’t yet understand them. I think of memories we all shared on that path, of the time we’ll never return to, of the faces I will never see again, and I feel sad. Then, I turn, and I look ahead of me, to my chosen path. In my mind I see the bright and beautiful landscapes I will pass and explore, and I am filled with excitement. So overwhelming is the confusion, that I sit. On my left, the path I came from, on my right, the path I will soon take. I look from one side to the other, and try to evaluate what is in my heart and head. Wanting only to understand, before I must stand and move forward once again. This time, on the path I have chosen for myself, not one that has been chosen for me.

Source: The summer before I went to college, I had a lot of mixed emotions, and I would write to help myself think.

Catching Up

How long had it been
Since we had last talked?
Not just a quick chat
In the hall as we walked?
Sadly it’d been years
Since our last heart-to-heart,
And that’s why this memory
Will never depart.

Now that we were both ready
For old wounds to heal,
And both had expressed
Through our paper and quill:
Emotions we felt
Through those years of such pain,
But also that somehow,
There’d been something to gain

The day finally came
When we turned to each other,
Like a lost and found child
To a sister or brother.
And we finally talked
Of the past year or two,
And how we’d both suffered
Though neither one knew.

And talking of all
The emotions we felt
We found once again,
The friendship we’d built.
Although covered in weeds
And slightly weakened by time,
We found that our friendship
Was still in it’s prime.
We still had that something
Between two best friends
It never had broken through
Twists and through bends.

And now I make this vow
To you, and to me;
I won’t loose you again,
For your friendship is key,
To my life being completely
And utterly right
I can’t have that without you
Though try hard I might.
So now you are stuck with me
Just wait and see,
We’ll still be best friends
Throughout eternity.

Source: This poem was inspired by and is dedicated to someone who will always be very special to me. You know who you are, thanks for all the good times, and I look forward to many more!

Between the Pages

Her loving hands are old and worn,
Her head now bowed and gray.
Her shoulders stooped, her eyes grown old,
Her smile not so gay

In her old chair she sits each day,
As life continues passing by.
She thinks of all that she once did,
And lets out a soft sigh.

She once had a great love of books,
She read them every day.
But now her eyes can’t do the work,
Though wish and hope she may.

So I’ve decided to become her eyes,
To share with her loved books.
And all I need in return,
Is her many loving looks.

Between the pages of the books,
Are stories she once knew.
And they begin to hold for me,
Memories, not a few.

The only sound is my own voice,
As I read from the page.
But I know we share a connection,
Despite difference in age.

Each week I go and read to her,
And learn from her a love.
Not only for the books we read,
But for her, given me from above.

Her loving hands may be old and worn,
Her head now bowed and gray,
Her eyes may have grown old now,
But when I’m there, our smiles are both gay

Source: Before I went to college, I would go and read to Grandma Bott. That opportunity left me with some very fond memories now that she has passed away, and this poem is kind of how I felt about those days of reading to her.

Goodbye

As I look forward to my near future, the time when I enter the world of adults, where I start of on my own, and go away to college, my excitement would be nearly impossible to contain, but one thing holds me back. The thought of the goodbyes I will have to make, the parts of me, and of my life that I will leave behind. The parts that never will be the same, even if they still remain on my visits home. I dread the thought of turning my back on my past, my history, my childhood. With this final goodbye, I can never return. I hate the fact that I have to say goodbye to the friends who have pulled me through the past few years, knowing that our friendship will never return to its present state, to what we were. I don’t necessarily want to say goodbye to the teachers and leaders who have helped to make me what I am, only to return for infrequent and short visits. As these thoughts weigh on my mind, they bring to mind goodbyes I’ve had to make in the past. How things have changed in a way that makes it impossible for them to ever be the same. These thoughts all tug at my heart, and all center around having to say goodbye, or missing the chance too.
A large part of the goodbyes that haunt my memory, have never been spoken out loud. These come from the friendships that have been left behind as hearts have grown apart, and time together stopped occurring. Too many of these litter my life. The times when for no apparent reason, a friendship has been allowed to slip away. At first I try to deny, and believe that somehow, we can keep that friendship alive. But too often, at last, I give in, and my heart whispers a goodbye, to what existed in that friendship, what we had, who we were. Each goodbye, tearing at my heart, leaving a small whole, which no other can fill.
Another type of goodbye has been less frequent in my life, but no less painful. The loss of a loved one to death brings about one of the saddest goodbyes I can recall. Tears cascade down my face, because I will not see them again for many years. These goodbyes never seem adequate, to span the time until we meet again. They too, leave a hole, but one that will heal.
Perhaps the one goodbye I recall most vividly was not one that I made to another, but one I said to myself, or at least the person I was. I remember realizing that somehow, the old me was gone, and I had become someone new. I remember having to let go, completely, of whom I had been, having to say goodbye, leaving behind a part of me, my childhood. I said goodbye and turned away from someone I understood almost completely, to find someone I did not know. Even now, I turn back, and see in the distance, the shadow of who I was. But that was a goodbye I cannot take back, one that must remain permanent. Somehow though, this goodbye, though one of the hardest, leaves not a hole in my heart, only a slight twinge every now and then, as I remember who I was.
I could spend hours contemplating the goodbyes I have made, and the marks they have left on me. However, thinking of goodbyes, always send my thoughts elsewhere, to the hellos that come after a goodbye, for the journey of life never ends, and there will always be someone new to greet. Sometimes I wonder, when the times of hellos come, if it will be worth it, or if I’ll just have to say goodbye too soon. But I’ve come to find, that despite how much a goodbye can hurt, the time between it and the preceding hello will always be worth it.

Source: randomly written

Hopeless Romantic

Hopeless romantic, it’s a word used perfectly to describe me. Often my friends or I use it in jest, to poke fun at my reaction to sappy movies, my current case of extreme infatuation, or my common complaint that everyone but me has got someone. The term is also used to explain my little stories about events that will supposedly take place in my blissful future, where apparently everything will be perfect. However, to me, in my quiet secluded thoughts, the word also takes on an entirely different meaning.
This meaning isn’t quite as innocent as the ones I showcase in my outer actions. Alone in my thoughts I contemplate that part of me that truly begins to become hopeless, quite without hope that “the one” will ever make an appearance in my life. So many years I’ve sat and watched others find happiness in their regard for another, the joy made tenfold by the return of those affections. This is what I see as I go through my life, without someone to return what I feel. Sure, I’ve had feelings for others, and that in itself makes life a little more entertaining for a while, but even then, something is missing. I’ve told myself countless times before that tomorrow, or next week, or perhaps next month, or year, I’ll finally find that someone who likes me back. Spending time in the world of my imagination, I’ve made up the scenarios of what it would be like, how I would feel. But my heart has never learned to know that feeling, that joy, because tomorrow, or next week, or month or year, has always come, without the fulfillment of my hopeful wishing. You come to a point, where with so many unfulfilled wishes, your heart begins to feel that it can’t take anymore. You begin to lose the will to dream, to wish on those shooting stars.
Looking back on the years that I’ve passed watching others hold hands in the halls, and posing for pictures at school dances, my heart is nearly to that point. Yet, it seems to be clinging, merely by a thread to that part of me that looks for a bright ray in my future, where all of my dreams just might come true. Somehow my heart whispers through its near agony, that one day, all my dying hopes and fears will culminate and come to an end in the birth of a love that will far surpass anything I’ve ever dreamed of. That one day, my prince, that knight in shining armor, will make his entrance on the path of my life. Somehow, through all the heartache and doubt that arises each day that I continue my life without finding him, the hope for that day remains. Perhaps, somewhere, his heart is out there speaking to mine, making me a solemn promise that one day, we will find each other.
Hopeless Romantic? Sure, that’s me, in it’s every meaning, though in and of itself it seems almost contradictory. Somehow the title puts together these two words with almost opposite meanings. It may cause you to ask how a romantic, someone who believes in love, can be hopeless, without a belief in the future. But I, I understand this double sided meaning, because it is me, and I am this word. The question is, in the end, which part of my heart will win the battle, the hopeless side, or the romantic?

Source:Random writing from thoughts I had

The Hat

As she handed me the bag with a smile
We discussed how we hadn’t done things for a while
How we were both busy and time had flown by
When I closed my door I let out a sigh
It wasn’t that I’d chosen to loose my best friend
But change had caused problems that I couldn’t mend

I opened the bag, and found only a hat
One only ridiculously goofy at that
But then I opened the card, one homemade
And I read the words that my best friend said
The story behind the ridiculous hat
Brought a smile and tears to my face as I sat
It spoke of our friendship, how we’d had a blast
And even through changes, something would last
The hat was a symbol of what we had been
And now when I see it, I can’t help but grin

Source: the assignment was to write about a gift we had received, for my creative writing class

He Lingers In My Heart

Although he is now gone,
He lingers in my heart
As I recall the memories
Which never will depart

The hat he always wore
It perched upon his head
The smile I always got
The kind words that he said

The house they used to live in
The cheerful carpet, green
The way he acted in his life
I never saw him mean

The time he told the story
Of the accident he’d had
And how the tears fell down his face
As he said “Obey your mom and dad”

So many reunions and parties
Spread across the years
The memories I hold in my heart
Will help to keep him near

The time he gave the blessing
And how his old hands shook
As they sat upon my head
And he read me like a book

The counsel that he gave me
To use throughout my life
The way he treated his family
And especially his wife

The way he kept that love strong
And didn’t let it die
And how I knew that one day
I’d want to find that type of guy

His skills with a crochet hook
The beauty that he made
His love for the true gospel
That never seemed to fade

The way he hardly complained
No matter how hard the day
His example of hard work
To be worthy of the pay

So many other things he taught
By his every word and deed
How living a life with values
Was his daily creed

His belief in the Savior
The service he has given
Leaves me with no doubt
That Grandpa is now in heaven

I’ve no doubt that I’ll miss him
My heart now has a hole
But I also know I’ll see him again
For heaven is my goal

I know that day will come
When I’ll gaze upon his face
The love we shared a lasting bond
In that eternal place

For now I’ve said my farewell
And I’ll hold him in my heart
Until we are together
Where goodbye plays no part

Source: I wrote this the morning my Great Grandpa Bott passed away soon after we heard that he had.

That Morning

“[That] morning”
I believed I knew you
Could trust you
And then I learned
The truth
The secret you had kept.

“Goodbye…old life”
of our memories
when I believed in our friendship.
Every minute was full
Of joys and laughs.

“Let us know each other by this.”
The memories
Of a time before that morning
When I could count on you
And our friendship was true,
Full of laughter.

Source: The assignment was to use lines from other famous poems to start each stanza

The Marks I Can't Erase

When you come to mind, I don’t know
whether to laugh or cry.
Whether to regret all the memories
or cherish them.
So much time we spent together,
laughing, loving, being friends.

Half the time
I regret ever knowing you,
ever forming all those memories
that now bring pain.
Pain
because we can never have that again.

And then at times
I treasure that friendship,
for the brilliance of
the moments recalled.

I don’t know my feelings
of your part in my life.
Yet, how can I treasure
the pain that friendship brought me?
The tearing sorrow
that left my heart in pieces.

Yet, that pain
has built me up,
made me stronger.
Tore apart the old me,
to build a better person.
How can I truly regret
your footprints on my life?
The marks you have left
that I cannot erase.

Source: I wrote this for a creative writing assignment, and I cannot remember at all what the assignment was.

Tattered Wings

A soul sits alone with broken wings, torn apart, in pieces because it fell, unable to keep itself aloft due to the actions of another, a flying companion.
Time passes, the wings heal, yet still, the soul rests alone, afraid to fly, to risk itself to peril by once again soaring among the skies with others, afraid to be hurt again, afraid of falling.
Old companions swoop lower, calling, pleading for their friend to spread it’s wings again, accompanying them are those who wish to know that soul, wish to fly with them.
Their calls touch the heart, which agonizes over the choice. Perch here, alone, yet safe, or sail, among the clouds, reaching new heights, but risking new pain. The heart decides, the wings spread slowly, out of practice with this once familiar action, and finally, the soul takes flight.
Accompanied by old companions and new friends, the start is slow, fear of failure causing hesitation. But then the wind under the wings lifts, and together, they fly, soaring higher then ever thought possible, up among the clouds, and on into the night among the stars.
The flight, every bit worth the risk of falling, because even torn and tattered wings can once again take flight.

Source: Just something I wrote one day in my notebook for Creative Writing

Standing at the Bridge

You stand at the edge of a bridge across a wide expanse, above a raging river. Behind you, a beautiful, exquisite place, however, you've been there so long you know every bit of it. On the other side, a place that is just as beautiful, perhaps more so, but you don't' know. Do you cross the bridge? "Of course," you want to say, " I can just come back if I want to." However, look at the bridge, it's old. It looks like it hasn't been used in centuries. It's sturdy enough for you to cross it once, but then, it may break. What if you can't come back? Do you go anyway? To discover what is ahead?

This is how I feel right now, as I stand at the brink of a huge change in my life. I know that there is so much to look forward to, I'm so excited. Yet, at the same time, I don't know if I'm ready. Ready to let go of my past, to leave behind that part of me. I don't' know if I'm willing to risk that bridge breaking after I cross, making it a one way journey.

I have to choose soon, do I cross? Do I let go? Do I risk the chance of never coming back? Do i release what I've had and who I've been? To reach that amazing vista on the other side. Is it worth it? I wish I knew. Will the bridge break? Or will it stay intact, strong enough for the occasional journey back?

And so I sit, staring at my bridge, waiting, weighing, trying to decide.

Source: Just another writing from my notebook during my Creative Writing class

One Luminous Dream

In the tranquil dawn the overcast,
yet cerulean blue
sky hides the happily shining
sun. Expectant dreams skip
across the mind, as curious eyes gaze out the radiant window. The scars
on the fragile hands, proof of the controlled-chaos
that exists inside the lovely
soul that sings the forgotten song. The rain
a beautiful surprise to the living
embodiment of chaotic perfection who has one desire.
To leave a mark, before falling like the autumn leaves.

Source: This is perhaps my favorite writing that I completed for my creative writing class. The assignment was kind of a process so I'll not explain it, but I hope you enjoy the poem.

Welcome to Life

Welcome to life, where legendary, divine, delicious, priceless miracles do happen,
Unforgettable friends laugh and love,
Superhumans discover souffle',
and the magic of sheer faith proves all endings are also beginnings, leading to the distant horizons of Heaven.

Source: Again from creative writing class this writing comes from a bunch of random words cut out of magazines, which I then had to compile together into some form of semblance, I quite enjoyed it.

Romance

Is romance just a fairytale,
a fantasy, untruth?
Just something that you dream of,
in exciting dreams called youth?

Or is it out there somewhere,
tangible and true?
That through your hope and patience
will someday come to you.
And fill your life with wonder,
radiance and joy.
A strong, enduring promise,
that nothing can destroy.

Source: So, the story behind this is that I was looking through my Thesaurus, and decided to look under romance, one of the words was fantasy, and it got me thinking. This was during my creative writing class and was another random writing in my notebook.

Leaves of My Mind

Memories are strewn across my path
like the leaves, fallen from the trees.
Some are full of vibrant color, others,
a dead, gloomy brown

Blown by the winds of my life, they whirl
around me
Their movement never ceases, as first one,
and then another catches my attention.

For a season, and then
falls
and is covered
Under other memories it lies unseen.
Until another wind blows,
and lifts it up again.

And so, like leaves of my mind,
memories are born, live, and fall
but stay,
lying on the ground of my life.

Source: Written in my writing notebook that we had to keep as an assignment for Creative Writing. We were required to write a couple times a week, whatever we wanted to write.

The Power of Song

I remember the radio was playing the best song. A song that I loved, a song that brought back so many memories. As the chorus rang out, those memories began to overflow, in the form of tears rolling down my face. Tears for the friendship I had had, and then lost. It was the kind of friendship that feels like it will last forever, but somewhere along the way, something went wrong. As I reflected on how something so happy, so good, and right could go so wrong I began to remember the moments of that friendship in depth. When did it happen, how did it fall apart? Where among the laughter and joy?

Laughter, so many laughs. Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about the friendship that was gone, but of the memories that will live forever. And as I focused on those happy memories, slowly, through the tears, I smiled. Smiled, because although the tangible, living friendship was gone, the memories survived, and in a small way, the dreams I’d had of that friendship lasting forever, did come true, through the memories.

Yes, the radio was playing the best song, the song, that after months of pain, finally broke through, and began the long process of healing.

Source: written for Creative Writing class, the assignment was to take a sentence/line to start off with, and write from there. Mine was; "I remember the radio was playing the best song."

How Can I Be Me?

Do you see me?
The real me?
Or am I hidden by a mask of the past?
Can you hear my voice?
Or is it distorted by echoes of the past?

Do you know me for who I really am?
Who I have become?
Or do you only see the me of the past?
Will you open your eyes to the real me?
Allow me to show my true self?
Or am I trapped in the past?

How can I discover the new me,
If you will not let it exist?
Will you listen and hear my new words?
Or turn your head away,
Trying to recall the old?

How can I know myself,
If I am never allowed to be me?
How can I be who I have become,
When you try to hold me back?

Source: written for my creative writing class, I don't remember the assignment, though I believe it had something to do with the title being a question maybe.

My Home

A light summer breeze alleviates the heat as the sun begins to set in the western sky. On the wind floats the scents of freshly cut grass, moist dirt, garden fruits and vegetables, roses, and other flowers. Crickets begin to chirp, as the song of the birds winds down for the evening. Faintly, the leaves on the trees rustle, their sound accompanied by the snapping of a flag in the breeze. Lights begin to blink on in the wide windows of the old white brick house, the green roof adding a touch of cheerfulness. I sit on the prickly lawn, luscious, well cared for, and green, and I take it all in.
It isn’t for the surpassing physical beauty of this place that it holds a special place in my heart, but for the exquisite joy that I experience in its beautiful surroundings. During most of the year, the yard remains quiet, nearly silent but for the sounds of nature and those produced by the work of a loving man in the garden; however, for approximately a week each summer, the silence is shattered by the endless laughter of children, the constant chatter of adolescents, and the perpetual conversation of adults. To nearly anyone in the world this setting may seem loud and chaotic, but to me, it is when I feel the most tranquil and peaceful in all my life. This is when I am truly home.
Home, to me isn’t a place, or a building, but a certain group of people, and how they make me feel. Home is knowing that you’re with people with who you are completely free to be yourself, your whole self. It’s knowing that the people around you know you as well as you know yourself, perhaps better. It’s knowing that they see everything about you, your strengths, your weaknesses, and love you for every bit of it. It’s knowing that within this little circle there exists a space that is meant for you; no one else in the entire world could fill that space, the one you fit so perfectly in. Home is having the knowledge that even though the people you are with will listen to every word you say, you don’t need to say anything. They already know what you’re thinking. Home is someone who can make you laugh any time, or wipe away the tears that fall down your face. When you lose your identity in this world, and forget who you are, Home is the only place you can rediscover yourself. Home is built of old memories and the anticipation of forming new ones. It’s countless inside jokes, and laughing for no reason. Home is a connection, linking one heart to another.
Of course, just as each house has its own unique qualities, so does each Home. My Home is a grandpa whose hands are old and weathered from years of work in his garden, and a face full of wrinkles, many of them from years of laughter. It’s a loving grandma who has watched her grandchildren grow, being faithfully interested in the happenings of their lives. It’s years of being poked, tickled, and teased by uncles, of being hugged and cared for by aunts. My Home is cousins, and the years of laughter we have shared together, and how we can spend hours talking about anything and everything. It’s knowing that through every difficulty, trial, pain, joy, new experience, and happiness, there will always be someone who cares. My Home is knowing that I always have my best friends to count on, even if they live in different states. My Home is a mother and father who have brought me up to love family.
I may only truly be Home for one week in a year, but there is an old white brick house with a green roof that keeps me connected to my Home continually. It is for that connection that I love that house and yard of elegant beauty. In the typical silence of the yard, I hear echoes of the sweet sounds of summer. When the spring flowers are in bloom, when autumn leaves litter the ground, when freshly fallen snow blankets the earth, I can look on that familiar and beloved site, and experience a small warmth in my heart. A warmth that is slightly reminiscent of my feeling of Home. It is for that small warmth that my heart holds a distinguished spot for the place that many would see as ordinary.

Source:I wrote this for the Reflections contest my senior year and actually went to region level with it. Its written very lovingly about my grandparents house, and got it's beginnings from a creative writing paper about a place I feel connected to.

Feel

Alone. Cold. Tears.
The icy weather wrapped around her, numbing her, freezing her.
It didn’t matter, she didn’t matter, not the way she wanted to.
If numb enough, she wouldn’t feel the loneliness.
Then, footsteps.
He knelt down, looked into her eyes, wrapped his coat around her.
His eyes said, “You matter.”
Warmth.

Source:Written for creative writing, a 55 word or less story.

Memory

Memory, you can never escape her presence. She follows you always, unbidden, yet you cannot cause her departure. She will always accompany you, in any journey you take, she will be beside you for every step.

Those steps will not be traveled by only the two of you, for Memory never travels alone. If you walk with Memory, another will join in the journey. Often they will not journey with you all the while, memory will bid one farewell, and welcome another as you pass over new places. There is no knowing who will join the journey next.

With each new companion, Memory will take on a new look, in fact a new personality. At times, she and her companion may accompany you down paths full of splendor and smiles. Yet, the companion may change quickly, as the pathway becomes one of teary gloom.

For this reason, you cannot describe Memory’s face, for it is never the same. At times it may look old, and full of wisdom, at other times, young and innocent. Although she is your constant companion, you can never come to know her face.

Source: This was written for my creative writing class as a personification of an emotion

Infatuation

Infatuation doesn’t often like to show herself for who she really is. She goes through life wearing a mask that so closely resembles Love that most cannot tell the difference.

She’ll lead you through a world full of wild amazement, dancing an untamed dance. Her vibrant clothes will catch your undivided attention and hold you riveted as you blindly follow her.

But then through the rose-colored air, in the distance, you will catch a glimpse of a beautiful picture. A portrait of Love, and as you come to know Love’s true face, the mask worn my Infatuation will no longer fool you, and you see her for what she truly is;

An exciting, untamed lady, yet incapable of measuring up to Love’s standard.

Source: I wrote this piece for my creative writing class, we had to write a personification of an emotion.