Seen

In my daydreams

I imagine being seen.

Really seen.

The raw and vulnerable kind of seen.

I wonder if they actually exist…

Souls cut from the same cloth

Do the tiny sheared fibers reunite

And form an image that neither could see alone?

It’s lovely…

Toying with the idea in my mind

But do I want that kind of clarity?

Do I need it?

Is it deserved?

In my daydreams

I press my fingertips to yours

One by one

You smell like safety

You sound like home.

When I look into your eyes

I see me…

The way you see me

And I trust it

There’s no logic.

I see me, the way you see me

It’s foreign and familiar

More terrifying than comforting

I want to go back

But I can’t

I’ve seen my soul in you

It cannot be unseen

Is this a blessing?

I’m not so sure.

 

-Elle

#Poetryfromthenotpoet

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Sleep Peace

You breathe so slowly

In the low light

Of our bedroom at night.

The shadows cast over your features…

They show me a secret version of you

Your sleep is not hard or fitful

The tension and stress from your day

Has melted away

Your sleep is soft.

It’s warm.

But then comes a noise – A car horn. A dog bark.

It disturbs the calm – makes you stir

And suddenly everything seems so…

Delicate.

This moment

This life

I’m afraid I’ll break it

Just by being awake.

I inch my way under the covers

And closer to you

You’re such a giver.

Perhaps you could share

Just a tiny piece

Of your sleep peace

With me.

 

-Elle

#Poetryfromthenotpoet

A Sweet Dream

I covered you with flowers in my mind

Lovie, I went back in time

To harvest the essence of you.

To celebrate you

To lift you up

When you needed higher ground

 

I kissed your cheeks

Precious one,

I played our favorite songs

And we sang them loud

‘Cause that’s the only way to do it

That’s what you always said

Loud and Proud

 

…Oh, and we danced

And we never stopped

We were happy

We were vibrant

We were alive

 

And that’s where I left us

Back in time

On an infinite loop

Covered in flowers

Feet off the ground

Singing

And dancing

And free

 

-Elle

#Poetryfromthenotpoet

Rainy Avenue

Sweet face

That’s what you used to call me

When we’d walk down those tired sidewalks

Of Rainy Avenue

Cracks in the cement

Below my sandaled feet

Toe snatchers.

That’s what you called those divots and pot holes

Obstacles we playfully and confidently avoided

You had a special name for everything

Even Rainy Avenue

Your little hypocrite boulevard

We never did see it rain

On Rainy Avenue

Dark clouds, sure

Lightning shows and thunder parades

Sometimes you could even smell it in the air

… the rain.

But not a single drop ever fell

Not on us

Not on Rainy Avenue.

 

-Elle

#Poetryfromthenotpoet

Poetry from the Not Poet

So I’ve been finishing off most of my poems with #poetryfromthenotpoet. I started doing it as a disclaimer because I know next to nothing about poetry. I don’t read it. I don’t know the various types. I don’t know any rules. I don’t pretend to think I write it well. I just enjoy it. I don’t want to learn the rules. I’ve had to do that… study a bit… when it comes to writing novels, and that’s a good thing. It’s made me a better writer, a better novelist. But I don’t want to be a good poet. I just know that sometimes I fill up with words and I like to pour them out. I’m not interested in learning how to spill a full glass of water in an organized fashion. Structure free feels nice sometimes, don’t you think?

🙂

-Elle

Quiet One

For my deep feelers

Empaths.

For everyone with minds so full

And mouths sewn shut

Such a heavy weight

Such a desire to connect

Such resistance.

People misunderstand you

Antisocial, they say

Boring, they think

It’s laughable, really

Your voice is quiet

But your soul is loud

Your demeanor is soft

But your heart is fierce

You are worth patience.

My love.

You have something unique to give

So much time observing

So much time listening

Understanding leaks from your pores

Compassion flows through your veins

You get people

You learn them slowly.

You learn them deeply.

The ones who notice you

Who engage you…

What a treat for you both

What a rarity.

The ones who don’t

Whether unkind, or simply oblivious

You learn from them.

Think of it as a gift

You take a lesson on humanity from them

They take nothing from you.

 

-Elle

P.S. Wavered on that last line so much because when people fail to notice you, when you aren’t given the time of day, when you feel invisible… that hurts and absolutely CAN take something from you. An overactive anxious mind can dwell on something like that -literally- for years, so I definitely don’t mean to diminish that. I just decided to write that the way I want it to be, and the way it ought to be. Because really, it’s something we shouldn’t give two flying shits about 😉

 

#Poetryfromthenotpoet

Time

The days creep by

The weeks jog

The months sprint.

Time is a curious thing

A cruel thing, perhaps.

She’s ruthless

Unforgiving.

You can’t escape her

You have to live with her

But she never stops moving

She never gives you a break.

She doesn’t get tired,

but you do.

She is infinite,

but you’re not.

You’re left in this odd conundrum

Bound and controlled by this intangible thing

Lovesick by the gifts she gives you

Precious gifts

Heartbroken by what she takes from you.

You beg her…

Time,

Please be kind.

And maybe she will be

For a second, for a minute

For a month, for a year

Somehow constant, but also finicky

She’ll go on and on

But she’ll abandon you one day.

She’ll abandon everyone that you love

And somehow…

Somehow that makes you respect her more.

Funny little thing she is, Time.

She’s the master of manipulation.

So highly valued

So easily wasted

She doesn’t care either way

She moves only one direction.

Forward.

 

-Elle

#Poetryfromthenotpoet

Honey

I called him Honey

‘cause he was so sweet to me.

And you know, honey…

It doesn’t ever go bad.

If you neglect it, mistreat it…

What it does is crystallize.

I think that’s kinda pretty.

The best part though?

If you love on it… warm it up a bit…

Well it goes right on back to the way it used to be.

No harm done.

 

I called him Honey

‘cause he was so sweet to me

But I might have taken my pet name just a bit too literally

See, I neglected him. I mistreated him.

And he got sharp ‘round the edges.

I tried warming him back up

But he was unmalleable. All bones and heavy flesh.

In fact, after some deliberation,

Sweet or not,

I decided he wasn’t so much like honey after all.

… and I sure as hell wasn’t either,

but then again,

I never pretended to be.

 

-Elle

😉

Assure me.

You’ve done everything right

You’ve gone by the book

You’ve played by the rules…

But somehow you feel unfulfilled

It seems like everyone around you is living their best life

And you’re just here

Existing.

Not that that isn’t something to appreciate…

But still.

You fight away dirty words like “unwanted” and “unloved”

Toxic little beasts

They lie to you in the night.

Those words…

They’re liars.

…Right?

 

-Elle

P.S. friends, strangers, lurkers… In case you need reminding… You are so loved.

Knock on Wood

I’m writing again (see post title).

I debated back and forth about whether or not to blog through my experiences writing this second novel of mine. I tried it with my first, but was massively inconsistent. In the end though, I’m not so sure that matters much. What matters is that I did finish that first book. It took a variety of motivators, but I got it done, and I’d very much like to do that again. I’d like to do better though. I’d like to write better, and take my work farther. That first one, it’s all mine. Few eyes have scanned it’s pages. It’s secrets will die with me – something I find oddly romantic, but it’s not what I want for all of my work.

It’s world cup time. I was doing this exact thing four years ago. Starting one of the biggest creative projects of my life. Summer of writing.  Summer of soccer. I haven’t missed a single match. This tournament transcends sports and athleticism for me. It makes feel a bit more connected to the world. There are always surprises… sweet little peeks into other cultures through the lens of a goal celebratory dance, an underdog upsetting a champion, tears of joy, tears of heartbreak… I find it all inspirational. Watch parties with friends and strangers alike. Cheers, flying beers. Good fun. Good fun. I don’t know why, and I’m not questioning it, but something about it all makes me want to contribute… to share. Every human being has something unique to offer up to the universe. Athletes, teachers, travelers, scientists, writers, yogis, mamas, cooks… countless people could put themselves in any of these categories and more, multiple, but their approach, their specific contribution is special and cannot be replicated. I think it’s lovely. I’m also ridiculously sentimental though. 🙂

Anyway this book… my second book. It’s essentially a fetus.  It’s an outline and an opening paragraph. There’s a long way to go, but I’ve been here before. I’m excited to do this again. This makes me happy.

 

-Elle