Getting Help

I want to tell you

How I’m feeling

But don’t want dependence

To weigh you down.

 

I want you to see

That I’m hurting.

It should be obvious

Without words.

 

I want to know

Why nobody is around

When I’m hurting the most

But I don’t want an audience

For my tears.

 

I want to be heard

But can’t help

Soldiering on in silence.

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Wanting To Be Alone

I’m holding on to you,

My dear,

I’ll never let you go.

But what if space

Is what I need? I may be

Here, physically,

But my presence isn’t present.


I love you

Don’t you love me?

Yes, but I

Love myself more.

On the Inside

A white Victorian dollhouse

Sits on the playroom floor

Untouched.


The children run around outside

Playing games they’d get in trouble for playing

If only they weren’t

Unsupervised.


Inside the dollhouse

The parents are cold and

Unwelcoming.


They have grown out of love

From constant fighting

Lying

Cheating, and being

Untrustworthy.


After many years

The dollhouse is falling apart.

The roof is collapsing

The support beams are cracking

Termites have destroyed the foundation.

And all the while,

The kids are playing outside

Unaware.

Cleopatra

She swings and she sways

To the trill of the piano,

With a facade of blonde hair

And the red lips of a vixen

To hide the fear held in her eyes

Of the terminal illness

Dancing in her veins

From dusk ’til dawn.

The World was My Oyster but I Didn’t Know How to Cook

“The World Was My Oyster but I Didn’t Know How to Cook” was the absolute best book that I could have read at this point in time in my life. Why? Because Christy Potter showed me how to be thankful for what I have, showed me which authors I need to know and recognize, and reminded me of the small things that I should never forget, and instead embrace. Full of inspiration in the form of short essays, short stories, a couple photo journals, interviews, etc. that will make your heart sing with creativity and put life back into your seemingly colorless day.

Christy Potter is an amazing and honest writer that will make you feel the changing of the seasons as they progress on paper. She pays homage to respectable writers that deserve recognition for their craft including, but not limited to: Edgar Allen Poe, Dr. Suess, Lois Lowry (also conducted an interview with her), and C.S. Lewis (who she affectionately refers to as Jack). The way Christy Potter talks about writing is incredibly inspirational. She’s an encouraging writer that convinces her audience to do what they truly enjoy doing as an individual. Some of my favorite chapters were when she talks about the different quirks of various writers, her interview with Lois Lowry, and a narrative essay called “Christy Goes to England: Searching for Jack” that gave me chills, and “To my unconceived child on Mother’s Day” that left me with a tear in my eye.

This book made me realize how out of touch I’ve been with my greatest hobby: reading. And it has inspired me to set goals to write more, attend book readings or even join a book group, take more pictures, read more great authors that I have yet to experience, learn and grow, spend more time in libraries, go abroad, and most importantly to realize that inspiration is everywhere.

This book is an excellent read for anyone with passion, a creative mind or spirit, or a writer at heart. Easy to be read by anyone Young Adult and older to spark that creative match that may or may not still be lit within you. This book made me feel very passionate about the craft of writing and left me with only one question in regards to Christy Potter: why won’t you love her Philip Roth?!

10/10

Some of my favorite quotes:

“Everything interesting and creative has to be called a hoax at some point by those with limited creativity.”

“Poetry is one of those things that seems to frighten and fascinate people in turn. A bit like marriage, really.”

“If there’s ever been a mental image that has encouraged me to keep going with my writing, it’s Janet Evanovich burning all her rejection letters.”

“There is such beauty in how uninhibited we are before the world teaches us to be inhibited.”

“The time I spend writing, or gardening, or sculpting, or playing my flute, are the moments that define me. They are the times when I am myself the most. I’m done fitting my art into my schedule. It’s time to start fitting my schedule into my art.”

A Generous Offer

A generous offer- but for who?

Is it for me, or is it for you?

“I’m sorry, I cannot go” should suffice

But what shall I saw when you ask me thrice?

You see, though we live side by side

You and I do not walk the same stride

I walk to my own self-satisfied beat

While you walk as you suck on your cult-like hive-minded teat

As you tell me why you’re right and I’m wrong

But it seems like you were wrong all along

Because you are not the rule-maker, decider or king

For maybe if you were, it might mean something

But since you’re not, when you speak, it is quiet

I don’t hear a thing, but keep talking- it’s a riot

To think that you’ll never truly know

What’s up above you or even down below

For there’s no room for your high-horse where I’m sure you’d like to be

And I’m sorry we won’t be in the same place for you to see

That the only “right” way is the one that’s truly your own

But maybe when I’m in Heaven, I’ll throw you a bone.

Pain

Self inflicted punishments

Punishing a wounded soul.

 

Soulfully devoting kindness

Kindly protecting others

Otherwise left forgotten and alone…

 

Alone in abandonment…

 

Abandoned, with long forgotten hope,

Hopelessly she falls

Falling toward an invisible self.