omg hi!!!

omg hiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have an english test tomorrowthat i need to study for, but heres a poem instead. i wrote it myself!!!!!!!!!!!

with the crackling of the fire

 and the whirring of the ceiling fan

 all cluttered thoughts are swept away 

and the very world feels 

Melancholy

 i can feel the fabric brush against my skin

 i can feel the hum of lullabies in the back of my throat

 and i see in the window,

 a ghost

 she retreats in fear that no one believes her,

 held hostage by her memories

 she’d like to slip away but instead

 she’s stuck in my window frame 

her face is pale and her eyes carved out 

like her sculptor scraped too deep 

translucent fabric hanging from her frame 

No Idea

Let me preface this by saying: I have no idea what this poem is. Who it's by, when it's from... As you may have noticed, I haven't touched this blog in years. I just recently decided sí want to post here again, and I found this laying in my drafts with no other information. It's possible that I wrote this, but I honestly think it would have been  above my skills at the time.  I guess enjoy? So sorry so can't give credit to whoever wrote this. (I tried googling the poem, nothing came up.)

Roots

I lean deep,

lean back and deep into black-bark trunk,

The air is silken and the grass is a blanket,

a blanket I could pull around me and use to disappear

as part of the woods forever.

Here I am safe. Here I am gone.

Here I can sleep, sleep under the sky

and hundreds of stars.

But for now it’s just me

and the tree.

Sapling

I lower it gently into the

cradle of loam, pressing black dirt

in around the roots,

a cool embrace from the land it will thrive on

in the years to come.

Leaves glow and rustle,

spots of soft green light
against a spine of black.

Blood

All is the deep crimson of the sky and
the choking, twisting, ash.
The soft blanket of fresh grass is gone,
blade-sharp broken needles in its place.
I drop to my knees, and they sink into my flesh,
staining burned palms with my
blood.

Hello world, it's me again. I have some more poetry to snack on. 

Unknown - a poem by me. Enjoy. Or not. But please, if possible, let this poetry make you happy. That's what it's here for. Some of it is actually here to make you sad or aware or excited - but I put poetry right here in the sky is so you can be happy. My point is: Enjoy.

Unknown

If I could send a message

To the vast unknown

I’d tell it “please be kind to me”

And then I’d scurry home.

If I could write a letter

To the strange unknown

I’d write to venture into it

Although I’m all alone.

If I could only run

To dreams where moonlight shown

I’d take my pencil and my book

To that sweet unknown.

My Fairy

Here is a less known poem by Lewis Carroll - My Fairy. Carroll wrote it at age thirteen in the means of entertaining his brothers and sisters. Both he and his siblings were strictly brought up so I think this poem was not only written to cheer up the sibling of Lewis Carroll, but is also a reflection of Carroll's young life, growing up in the strict environment he did. Enjoy! It's really something to think about.

I have a fairy by my side 
Which says I must not sleep, 
When once in pain I loudly cried 
It said "You must not weep"
 If, full of mirth, I smile and grin,
 It says "You must not laugh" 
When once I wished to drink some gin
 It said "You must not quaff". 

When once a meal I wished to taste
 It said "You must not bite"
When to the wars I went in haste
 It said "You must not fight".

 "What may I do?" at length I cried,
 Tired of the painful task.
 The fairy quietly replied, 
And said "You must not ask". 

Moral: "You mustn't." 

The Bubbles from Mars and Other Sorts

Here is an excerpt from my sister's blog. It's pretty cool, and you can visit it here.

But before you get lost in her blog, let's get lost in her mind.

The Bubbles from Mars


When the bubbles explode into existence, you are mesmerized. Your eyes go like stars, a few bubbles alight on your hand, and you are holding the Universe. The fragile Universe.

-Lily, Macarena Gun

Here's another cool one from here brain:



Wake Up Again

Those winter days when one feels happy and feels lonely all at once

The way my heart melts into me from sitting long hours by the hearth

The feeling that it’s all the same and yet that something huge has changed

And like a person dying I am born from ashes of cold fire

Something new is stirring and it wakes inside us, all of us

Endings and beginnings hearken to the recent, fading past

The memories that wait here to be made anew and fall away

Wake up again.

-Lily. Macarena Gun.



Photo Credit also goes to Lily check out her Instagram - macarenagun

The World of our Hearts

Here's another poem by me, I don't know what inspired it, but I wrote by accident, and it ended up less than awful. So here it is, guys! 




The World of our Hearts
When the air of the sun
Let's the light flutter by
Then the snakes and the Mayans
Gaze up to the sky.
And as the world spins around
Like a big Lollipop,
And we fly to our hearts with even no shock.

Burning Song

Fire has always been of great interest to me. It can cause life, yet it also causes death. To honor this peculiar element, I out some song into in and wrote a poem.

Song is the fire
The fire is the song
The song is the fire when there's always something wrong.
Fire will be thrown
When the song is sung.
When the song is sung
the fire will be done
We will run
But don't forget
The songs we've sung
And as we skip along the sun
We're burning with the fire.