arbitrary poetry

Mostly poetry, probably some flash fiction, all conveniently located here so you don’t have to wade through the extraneous nonsense on my main blog. Yay!

[arbitrarypoetry]

Bride

I dug the hole myself. The earth conceals me as I lay out of sight, feeling only the cold seep of rain, the soft thuds of infrequent footfalls. Earthworms blindly nose into me, then bumble their way around, circling my fingers like gentle rings and leaving tunnels of air in case I need to breathe. Worms are kind—with five sets of hearts, I suppose they have to be. My own borrowed heart still stumbles along, like an old man supporting all his weight on his cane, refusing to sit down because he knows if he does, he’ll never get back up again.

White roots grow down to brush against my face, delicate as a mother checking your forehead for fever. From above, I catch glimpses of sunshine and wind skimming across leaves. But it’s not safe yet. Every day it gets easier to not remember, to nestle into the empty places in my memories, but I can’t forget the look in his eyes when he first woke me up. The triumph, the hunger. Can’t forget the feel of his greedy fingers against my skin. The earth is a heavy blanket, and all I want is to stay forgotten beneath its weight.

Sometimes, through the roots, I catch flashes of lightning, sharp and painfully bright. The leaves shiver as the worms swim upward to feel the rain on their pink skin, and my heart stutters, remembering the crack of light that sent it beating again. The stitching on my limbs and neck aches. I shut my eyes tighter, earth pressing against my eyelids; this is where he found me. This is where he collected all the fragments of me, arms and legs and chest that once belonged to others. That he said now belonged to him.

The worms come back after every storm and knock gently against my knuckles, as if to tell me it’s my turn now, but the darkness is so tender. It’s hard to remember why I ever loved the harsh light and noise on top of the earth, the rough smiles and grasping hands. Only my heart keeps stubbornly pumping, as if determined to use its artificial life to outlast the one who gave it to me. Outlast until the day I can let the earthworms nudge and guide me upward, let the rain wash the earth away from my face, and know that no one again will call me their creation, but I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive.

[arbitrarypoetry]

Elder Son

I am not the prodigal.

I have always stayed where I’m supposed to be, Dependable as the dawning of day. I work in the fields with blistered hands Shutting my eyes to the glare of the sun, Sweat trickling down my back. I would never ask for an early inheritance, Let alone toss it like leaves to the wind— I never ask for anything.

But now he’s back, with empty hands, After leaving me to work in the fields While he caroused ‘til sunrise with short-lived friends Never giving a thought to home Until he could no longer pay his way— 

And you run to him, You sweep him up into your arms Hold him like you’ll never let go As if he’s the son you choose to love As if he’s stayed steadily by your side, Lifted a finger to deserve your affection.

I carry the weight of responsibility And my arms have always been too full to feel your embrace But what else can I do? I’ve worked so hard to keep everything in balance To be the kind of son you want And I can’t bring myself to believe That if I let something slip, Fumbled from my fingers to smash on the floor, You’ll step over the shards to enfold me in your arms And tell me it’s okay, I’m your son, it’s okay You never expected me to carry it all

Because what’s the point of rules If you don’t care when they’re broken? What’s the point of love If it’s something I’ll never be able to earn?

[arbitrarypoetry]

an announcement, of sorts?

so I obviously have not posted anything here in quite a while

part of it is that i’ve been working on a novel for the past year or so, so all my writing time tends to focus on that. but i also just stress myself out with this stuff because i get the idea that i’m supposed to be Building A Following and that means i have to post stuff On A Regular Basis and so then even when i /do/ have something i want to share i just don’t bc i’m afraid i won’t be able to keep up with posting more

but obviously that’s pretty self-defeating. so i want to try to approach this more the way i do my youtube channel (ukulele covers, whenever i happen to feel like it, tbh often mostly influenced by whether i like my hair/outfit that day)-- just share stuff when i have it, and don’t worry about how many people see it. i don’t expect to get youtube famous, and i don’t expect to get tumblr poetry famous. but if there are even a handful of people who like my stuff and are maybe helped in some way by seeing it, i should share it

so yeah. i can’t promise any sort of consistency. but i’m going to try to just put stuff out there when i have it and not let myself get too discouraged if i don’t get much response. the important thing is that i’m creating stuff

and idk why i’m using no capitalization rn, that’s not even particularly my aesthetic, but i guess it just feels more casual, and maybe i just need to be more casual in general and not take stuff so seriously that it isn’t fun anymore

if you’ve read any of my stuff in the past, thank you. i really do appreciate it. and if anything my brain comes up with resonates with your brain, i’m glad, and i hope it helps you see that you’re not alone.

[arbitrarypoetry]

Waltzing in the Snow

We snuck out of the party Creaking the door shut Quietly Behind us Boots crunching in the snow Flurries of wind brushing our faces All the sound dimmed To a hum

It was better out here

Gaudy strings of lights Flashed in the windows A thin strain of music drifted in the still air Your breath puffed out white before you As you rubbed your Bare-knuckled hands With a grin You led me underneath the empty trees Snow drifting down around us

Bowing low You offered your hand Smiled at me beneath your floppy hat Asked if you may have this honor

And we danced

I took your chapped hand in my mittened one And we began to waltz Out in the winter air My own breath sharp inside my lungs Snowflakes swirling in a sudden breeze You twirled me around And my skirt flared out

We were graceless In our bulky coats and Heavy boots Tripping over each other Laughing at our mistakes But the snowflakes danced with us The cold moon shone for us And somehow the patterns in Our clumsy footsteps Seemed beautiful as frost Swirled on a windowpane

The tips of your ears were red And my face grew so numb From wind and laughing When you brushed your bluish lips Against my cheek I could feel the kiss freeze there

Finally So clumsy-footed We gave up the waltz You grabbed my arm tight Swung me around Whirling Faster and faster Making me laugh like an idiot And we spun like Plummeting eagles Trapped in an endless fall Breathless Till with a lurch We collapsed Wheezing and giggling Too dizzy to continue

Breathe deep

We ended up making snow angels Flying side by side I took off my mitten to hold your hand And we laid there Staring through the branches Trying to find gaps in the clouds Where glimmers of Light peeked through Until our tangled fingers grew so numb I lost track of which were mine

I could have stayed forever But you shivered Trembling quietly And my teeth clattered together We tried to ignore it But in the end we had to leave You pulled me to my feet Our bodies suddenly heavier You brought me back inside to the Chatter and noise The glowing warmth

Our imprints still rested beneath the tree

You opened the door And the heavy air enfolded me But it couldn’t melt away That night My hair was full of snowflakes Like bits of fallen stars And your kiss Was still frozen on my cheek

[arbitrarypoetry]

Caterpillar Baby

The sun shines bright on the graveyard. People shift In their dark, dark clothes Uncomfortable in the heat. I stare at the Tiny white casket No larger Than a shoebox. A butterfly rests on the surface Yellow wings Breathing Open and closed.

The baby had died inside his mother. Never breathed Never saw Never cried. He stayed his whole life Inside a cocoon; Now he’ll never see The sky.

I look at the ground, Focusing on the Leaf green caterpillar Crawling along Oblivious. The baby rests In his little white box And all that I can Think is “He never even Got His wings.”

[arbitrarypoetry]

The Girl Inside the Light Bulb

She always had this glow about her Pouring out, Brighter than any before. She used to dance On nimble feet Trailing light behind her, Leaving bits of brightness In footprints on the floor. But no one wanted beauty For beauty. It had to be practical, Useful, Contained. So they shut her up In a little glass prison Placing her up on high; Now she lights up the room But she’s trapped.

They told her she was happy now Her purpose clearly seen; Her light’s no longer beauty It’s responsibility. They told her dancing was silly, It’s impractical, Useless; She’s better off where she is. She lights up the room But she’s trapped.

She’s bright as any star, And she never stops glowing; If you touch your fingers to the glass, You might get burned. She keeps on shining, Keeps giving light, Though she really longs to dance; There’s nobody there Who will let her out. They say that she’s safe She’s happy, Content; They say this is what she’s meant for. They can’t see what they’re doing. They can’t see her light going dim.

She’ll burn out someday, And they’ll replace her with a new one. She lights up the room, But she’s trapped.

[arbitrarypoetry]

The Solitary Stars

Every star is lonely. It may not be easy to see; When you peer up at the sky They seem to all be Grouped together Always nearby Twinkling with secrets They whisper to each other. But really Each star Is on its own So far away from the others, Ages of empty, airless space Stretching out between them. They can see the other stars from afar But they can’t call out Can’t reach out Can’t break the loneliness. So they watch. And to them From so far away It looks like all the other stars Are gathered together Dancing to a distant song Whispering their secrets And the star that’s watching Thinks That it’s the only one Left out That it’s the only one Alone That all the other stars Are together Forever Never on their own And they all watch each other All thinking they’re the only ones Never dreaming that Everyone else Is just as lonely as they are. Surrounded by lights But no way to connect– The solitary stars.

[arbitrarypoetry]

Caterpillar Baby

The sun shines bright on the graveyard. People shift In their dark, dark clothes Uncomfortable in the heat. I stare at the Tiny white casket No larger Than a shoebox. A butterfly rests on the surface Yellow wings Breathing Open and closed.

The baby had died inside his mother. Never breathed Never saw Never cried. He stayed his whole life Inside a cocoon; Now he’ll never see The sky.

I look at the ground, Focusing on the Leaf green caterpillar Crawling along Oblivious. The baby rests In his little white box And all that I can Think is “He never even Got His wings.”

[arbitrarypoetry]

Unseen Colors

I think that you have butterfly eyes. They don’t seem special They’re just a plain gray But you see things that others can’t You find splendor in things called plain You love things that others reject.

You told me once that Butterflies Can see more colors Than we can. There are hues in this world That we’ll never imagine, Snatches of beauty We never will grasp. The world is made of them They’re all around us Invisible lovelies As thick as the air

But we walk right by— We never stop We never realize We stick to our own little rainbow paint charts Never looking for unseen colors.

People always thought you were plain Nothing impressive Nothing important But I know that you’re made of things That others can’t even dream.

 And maybe your eyes aren’t gray. Could be they’re a color I just can’t see.

[arbitrarypoetry]

The Girl Inside the Light Bulb

She always had this glow about her Pouring out, Brighter than any before. She used to dance On nimble feet Trailing light behind her, Leaving bits of brightness In footprints on the floor. But no one wanted beauty For beauty. It had to be practical, Useful, Contained. So they shut her up In a little glass prison Placing her up on high; Now she lights up the room But she’s trapped.

They told her she was happy now Her purpose clearly seen; Her light’s no longer beauty It’s responsibility. They told her dancing was silly, It’s impractical, Useless; She’s better off where she is. She lights up the room But she’s trapped.

She’s bright as any star, And she never stops glowing; If you touch your fingers to the glass, You might get burned. She keeps on shining, Keeps giving light, Though she really longs to dance; There’s nobody there Who will let her out. They say that she’s safe She’s happy, Content; They say this is what she’s meant for. They can’t see what they’re doing. They can’t see her light going dim.

She’ll burn out someday, And they’ll replace her with a new one. She lights up the room, But she’s trapped.

[arbitrarypoetry]

The Solitary Stars

Every star is lonely. It may not be easy to see; When you peer up at the sky They seem to all be Grouped together Always nearby Twinkling with secrets They whisper to each other. But really Each star Is on its own So far away from the others, Ages of empty, airless space Stretching out between them. They can see the other stars from afar But they can’t call out Can’t reach out Can’t break the loneliness. So they watch. And to them From so far away It looks like all the other stars Are gathered together Dancing to a distant song Whispering their secrets And the star that’s watching Thinks That it’s the only one Left out That it’s the only one Alone That all the other stars Are together Forever Never on their own And they all watch each other All thinking they’re the only ones Never dreaming that Everyone else Is just as lonely as they are. Surrounded by lights But no way to connect-- The solitary stars.

[arbitrarypoetry]

Imaginary Friends

You’ve held on longer than most. Many have already said goodbye; You seem to think it will last forever. I only wish that it could. But you know, Someday I’m going to have to tell you that I Don’t Exist. I’m nothing but a voice in your head. And you need to know. It’ll break your heart; But it will break mine more. I know You won’t dance with me Anymore; Twirling around your cluttered room, Your feet more graceful than mine; I know You won’t talk to me Anymore; Whispering all your little secrets, Waking me up late When you have a bad dream; I know You won’t think of me Anymore, Till I’m just a Flicker of memory Pushed to the back of your mind. I’ll watch you letting go; I’ll watch you moving on; I’ll watch you growing up; And I Will fade From existence.

[arbitrarypoetry]

the posting of ancient poems

Sorry I’ve been dead for a while! I spent most of my summer frantically trying to finish the first draft of a fantasy novel before school started (which I just managed by resorting to a lot of summary and “I-don’t-care-how-much-of-a-hot-mess-this-is-anymore” strategies by the end), so I haven’t really had poetry on my radar for a while.

I’m hoping to start writing some new poems soon (before school gets /too/ crazy), but in the meantime, I started looking through some of the feedback I’d saved for poems I posted on a writer’s forum ages ago. Some of them I wasn’t really planning on posting here, since my style has changed a lot and there are things I’m not a huge fan of in them (particularly the excessive use of semicolons; not that I’m completely cured of that yet), but it can be interesting to see how someone’s writing has developed, and based on the feedback from my fellow nerdy writer kid friends, they seemed to like them a lot, so maybe some of you will get something out of them as well.

I’m planning to schedule them to post over the next several saturdays, and hopefully by the end I’ll have some new things to show you.

Thank you all so much for reading my poetry!

--Mary

[arbitrarypoetry]

Umbrella

I wish I could open an umbrella over you And keep you safe From whatever may rain down. I would shelter you, keep you from ever feeling Bad, keep that smile Lighting your face Like sunshine. I wish I could wrap you up in a blanket And sit with you, cozy in front of a fire And fix everything, make it all better Bring feeling back into your fingers, your toes Take away the cold sting from the tips of your ears. I wish I could take Every heavy thought, Every raincloud that weighs on you, blocks out your light And carry it myself So you don’t have to. I wish I could make it all Right again, I wish I could fix everything that’s wrong, I wish, I wish, I wish… But my umbrella is dripping, it’s full of holes I keep stretching out my hand, but I can’t seem to reach you You’re drowning in rain and I can’t do a thing To stop up the heavens, call back the sun I’m helpless, so helpless, to make it okay— But please take my hand Let me stay by your side Let me stand in the storm right next to you While my holey umbrella tries to keep you dry.

[arbitrarystrawberry]

It’s really interesting for me to look back and read old things I’ve written after learning more stuff about myself and go “Oh, wow, /that’s/ what was going on.”

I have always wanted to help everyone. I wanted to be the person everyone could count on, who would always be there and never let them down. I wanted to be able to fix everything. I was convinced that everyone else’s problems were far more serious than mine, and I was afraid to ever tell people that I was having a bad day because what if /they/ were having a bad day and I just made it worse?

When I wrote this poem several years ago, all I was focused on was the fact that I couldn’t do enough to help my friend, even though I wanted to and tried so hard. But now, reading it again, I realized something that I don’t think I even thought of when writing it: It was /my/ umbrella that was full of holes. That meant that the rain was hitting me too. But all I could think about was how I wasn’t able to keep my friend dry.

I have learned a lot since then. I’ve learned how to reach out, to both ask for and accept help from my friends. I’ve gotten therapy, learned ways to adjust my thinking and deal with the days when it feels like everything’s crashing down and I can barely breathe. I’ve learned to accept that I do have problems and it’s okay to admit that, that just because I feel like everyone else is worse off, that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve help.

Of course I’m not saying you should just go “Screw everyone else, I’m looking out for number one” – kindness and empathy are important, and it’s /good/ to want to help others. But sometimes, to do that, you have to fix your own umbrella.

[arbitrarypoetry]

Umbrella

I wish I could open an umbrella over you And keep you safe From whatever may rain down. I would shelter you, keep you from ever feeling Bad, keep that smile Lighting your face Like sunshine. I wish I could wrap you up in a blanket And sit with you, cozy in front of a fire And fix everything, make it all better Bring feeling back into your fingers, your toes Take away the cold sting from the tips of your ears. I wish I could take Every heavy thought, Every raincloud that weighs on you, blocks out your light And carry it myself So you don’t have to. I wish I could make it all Right again, I wish I could fix everything that’s wrong, I wish, I wish, I wish… But my umbrella is dripping, it’s full of holes I keep stretching out my hand, but I can’t seem to reach you You’re drowning in rain and I can’t do a thing To stop up the heavens, call back the sun I’m helpless, so helpless, to make it okay— But please take my hand Let me stay by your side Let me stand in the storm right next to you While my holey umbrella tries to keep you dry.

[arbitrarypoetry]

Guppy

Before the vet comes, we take off the cone That you wear, comically, around your neck Because you couldn’t stop gnawing your own paws raw And Mom holds you in her lap Arms around your trembling body Your black and white fur, patches I’d memorized since childhood Your long, excitable tail that Mom hadn’t let them cut at your birth Your nails that, when they got too long, Would click click click around the house

And I stroke your head, running my finger Up the stripe on your long nose, the old Familiar ridge, and softly sing You are my sunshine, my only sunshine The song Mom sang to you when you were just a puppy Sad and scared without your brothers and sisters Lullabied to sleep before I was even born

When they come And put you on the cold, metal table Mom has to get up and leave the room But I stay, hands on your head, your silky ears As they gently hold you down, stick the needle in And I keep singing to you, quietly, As your eyes go dim

And then I can see your tongue, Pink in your slackened mouth And the accident on the table I won’t pick up with a plastic bag And I know that you aren’t here anymore

And I don’t want to feel it

The hardest part is over And I don’t want to feel it

[arbitrarypoetry]

Walkman

Old blue CD Walkman Thrift-store reject Held shut with a rubber band Best friends with a taped-up pair of headphones That only send sound to one ear Unless you hold the cord just right

Still a tiny piece of magic A chunk of plastic and fiddly bits Sending a silent disk spinning And drawing out music Voices and instruments that all existed Somewhere far away But now echo out from that time

Straight to you, just to you As you lie on the rug staring at your ceiling The foam of the earpieces hugging your head Silently mouthing the memorized words As you carefully adjust the cord And the disk whirls round and round Quietly (quietly) humming along