J.S. Carrie

Poetry and Writing Blog | 19 | she/he | Carrie or Jhonny Feel free to message! I may be slow to reply. https://linktr.ee/thwipthwipwoosh

[jscarrie]

Simple Things

J.S. Carrie

Everything runs smoothly When you, really, least expect it.  The rain stops falling, or The wind stops Bowling you over. 

Today I find a modicum of peace Inside the closet. I take that, with the broom and pan, And use it, And finally get all this dust to go. 

Spilling coffee down my shirt And homework that I turned in late Is easy, when I know that things are simple.

[jscarrie]

Watching the Sky

J.S. Carrie

My makeup might run if I really do cry, and I’m shaking, (in silence), (with anger).  I had been hoping, or dreaming of futures, and thinking you’d love me forever. 

Somebody does a bad thing.  Somebody helps me get high. Somebody leaves me, Alone and unwitting, My only friend being the sky. 

I wonder now, carelessly, why I thought that a man could have feelings. Now I know better. No matter the moonlight, the sunlight, the weather,  I will be left here, and reeling. 

Somebody gives me a hug.  Somebody tells me goodbye. Somebody watches, And comes up beside me, And whispers to look at the sky.

[jscarrie]

Stampede

J.S. Carrie

Stampede, stampede! Call out your warnings then fall to your knees. Pray forever. Pray that when they hear it, they will heed. One child, born with no left eye, is crying as he hears it. He has been mute since the day he was-- ... And he can hear it. As observant as the silent must be, of course, he hears it. A mother holds his hand. Walking through town, he tugs gently. Mother, mother, please. However: the eggs are on sale. for the fruit, we can haggle. for neighbors, we must always stop and talk. Mother, please, stampede, stampede. There is no voice to shout aloud the warning.

Tears on the starboard, as bright as far-off hooves shall glint to catch the setting sun, cannot be shed from port-side and are missed.

[jscarrie]

The Effort

J.S. Carrie

He’d forgotten my name

when we reached the third day

and he asked me to tell him again.

I am shaky with faces

and so stayed up pacing

engraving his form in my head.

But even so,

I think I’d known

that I had gone too far:

I told him my name

and pushed out the pain

and walked with him back to his car.

[jscarrie]

I really love your poetry, it’s so beautiful. How long have you been writing?

TYSM 😚! this makes me soooo so happy! I’ve been writing for years, probably around 12 years now. It wasn’t always poetry but I’ve been seriously writing poetry for about a year and a half and I wrote it on and off before that!

[jscarrie]

When it Rains in Connecticut

J.S. Carrie

There are frogs everywhere.  They spring out from the cracks in logs, The bottoms of rivers And gunk-filled ponds, And raise their noses proudly to the sky. 

If you have seen it, you will know How very small they are.  How they can rest in just The crevice of your palm.

And if you’ve seen it, You will know that there are many. There are so, so many frogs here, in the country. 

When it rains, and the air is cool, And the ground is softened From its usual harshness, and hotness, They surface out from somewhere to enjoy it. 

Dozens- no, hundreds, Of tiny little people come together. They gather in bunches On the dark-paved roads, In tandem, tilt their heads up to the sky. Have you seen the way They close their tiny eyes? How peacefully, and fully, They enjoy it. 

[aurevives]

CONTEXT: Necromancer buys dried flowers at a shop where she regularly flirts with the owner. (￣▽￣)ゞ

Thanks for the tags @jamiedeadwrites & @bluberimufim! 🌷 This is for the last line tag and in my defense this all started as a line lol

[cottaqecore]

jenny

[jscarrie]

Oh Please

J.S. Carrie

I look at trees, please, please. I look and wonder who else sees?

Why scorn for rhyming poetry, when both our skin has touched this breeze?

If you ask me... Tradition can be lovely.

Tradition can be growth, even when the growth is new. Red For Luck and Celtic Knot and Nesting Doll and Handshakes.

Do you prefer paved roads, or cobbled? We both will see. (So much-- and never enough to compare it.) There is music. So much music, I will never hear it all. Despite, with gall, and valiantly, I try. I look at trees, oh please, oh please. I ponder on them wisely. Legs burning from the run. arms heavy from the crates of china, shipping out. Fingers stiff from folding cranes, connecting with all I think of. Empathy, oh please, I look at trees. Oh please, please, please, I look at trees.

[jscarrie]

Thumbtack in Your Pocket

J.S. Carrie

In ten days,

I will shuck away

my skin and face

and silently become you.

I feel your bones

growing inside of me,

creeping through my cracks

like moss in stone,

like vines in stone,

like water, weathering stone,

like ice, expanding in stone.

The wedge drives deeper.

Howling, I despair.

I wish you weren’t going

to cut your hair.

I liked the way it fell

behind your ears,

the way it reminded me

of how mine used to fall.

Now my hair is grown long.

Please, just let your hair grow long.

Two laundry hampers

sitting in my room,

full of my clothes that

I have not yet put away,

slowly begin to reject me.

Within them,

from the bottom, working up,

is you.

Your shirts, your pants,

your mismatched socks

and your stray hairbands.

You always used to leave them

in your pockets.

You always forget to take things

from your pockets.

Like a penny in the sidewalk crack.

Like a thumbtack behind the desk.

Like a hairband in your pocket.

Like a penny in your pocket.

Like a thumbtack in the crack behind the sidewalk,

in your pocket.

Slowly, the world around me

begins to forget me.

Is this all I am, a thumbtack in your pocket?

Shall I prick you, just a thumbtack in your pocket?

[jscarrie]

Men who Mourn Nothing

J.S Carrie

Never have i seen a man as defeated

as a man entrenched in failure.

When dejected by luck and fortune,

he will never try his own hand.

He sleeps all day,

he sulks and cries.

He remembers what he wanted

and curses for his lack of it.

He spits, and wails,

and turns his cheek to revelations.

Why stamp out fires you have not yet lit?

What wicked curse must control your effort,

eat your power and

devour your time?

A man in failure is a man

exhausted by all.

By cleaning, by cooking.

He is a man worn through

by his own well-being.

If he cannot do this,

if he cannot have this,

he thinks, “I should have nothing.”

Never will he take the step,

or skip the stone,

or try.

[jscarrie]

Untitled

J.S. Carrie

an orange cat wakes, begrudgingly, and jumps off of the wall. he has seen more than I will, although I seek out visions. perhaps this is why. to live a life devoid of interest, where only instinct remains, there may still be curiosity; after all, that is what killed him. but in his time, will he think of cherry pits, and shark week, and love? he knows a path to take to daily, comes hither to my drooping porch. I see him in the window, and carefully beside him set his bowl.

[jscarrie]

From Nowhere

J.S. Carrie

With flimsy limbs and a rush of whimsy feeling like cold ice down the shirt or water rushing over your open eyes the world becomes just a bit more numb, and muted. Simultaneously, it feels like shocking. Electric bolts, looping and hopping twixt metal poles and rubber stops that make up your gray matter. And something makes you cry like you have never cried before. It's an episode of your favorite show. It's the anxiety of your roommate's face and the pregnancy test in the bin, and the cake you can't get right your birthday morning. Tears wash over your insides before they can even fall. It's empty chairs at the recital and the tiny stray you thought might survive. It's cooking that tastes awful after a very long day. It's the look of dissapointment on his face when you say "No." your chest is tight and your eyes are tight and your mind is pinched tight by the music in the background of the moment. I'm sorry, sweet girl; I wish we could all do better for you. But I start the process slowly.

I will cry when you cry, and feel your sorrow too.

[jscarrie]

Thank you for Loving Me.

J.S. Carrie

You must hate to love me, to hate me as you do. I know there is love there, or you could not have one thought for me: one sliver of caring in your body, to care enough to think it. All you do is hate me and hate, and hate. And think of me. Your judgement gives life to my visage in you. I know you are exhuasted, I forgive you. Keep your hatred if you must; Not all love can be let go. Lay your head upon my knee, collapse over my back, and I will carry you through your tumultuous dreams. I lose my curiosities to the mindful flow of living. Now I have the room in my arms for yours. Let me carry them for you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you, for loving me. Every day, I will forgive you.

[jscarrie]

Ender Falls

There is a lazy river,  Cut through by big spools of rock.  They take apart the water, Slowly, piece by piece, And pools form in-between, Wavy and informal. 

The sun was very bright the day I went to Ender Falls.  I walked along a trail so thin It was barely there at all. I dipped my toes in gravy boats Of tadpoles, earth, and bugs, And heard my mother laugh Over my shoulder. 

I cannot quite remember What I told her. 

Moss grew on the trunks that day, Encircling circumferences That stripped from me naivety- Like legends of The North Side of the tree.  

We come upon a sun-warmed spot Where plant life seemed to bend back out, And leave us. We lunched upon the carcasses of fallen herons, rattlesnakes, and beavers. I wipe my mouth and blood gets on my fingers.

[jscarrie]

Dream Journal

J.S. Carrie

I have a dream and a little girl with very long arms is walking right behind me. She has a little yellow frisbee, and it's floating. the dream keeps getting fasater, and I- have a dream and a boy I don't approve of might be sitting here in the pink-plastic hot tub on the back of Barbie's trailer. I don't know how to feel. I hope this doesn't change the way I- have a dream I float when I jump. I do it too much, and then I get stuck to the ceiling. I float across the ply and boards in the attic of a home I've never lived in. My mother says she used to, as a- Dream I wake up, and go to class. A dog is barking, shrilly. I wonder how many times I will manage the gym this week. eighteen credits can be nothing, if I'm awesome. If I'm really awesome about it. I have a dream I take the test on time.

[jscarrie]

From Class Margins

J.S. Carrie

Stars and exes sprinkle the skin over the back of my hand. Why am I wrinkled? Why do I see markings there? My veins, a deathly blue, shine through it all. I am only nineteen my flesh too damned for taughtness