You Really Do Have Worth

 

“After awhile you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

and you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t mean security,

and you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises,

and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open,

with the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child,

and you learn to build all your roads on today,

because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans.

After a while, you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,

instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure…

that you really are strong, and you really do have worth.”

 

-Veronica A. Shoffstall

Untarnished Love

You’ve become a memory

Our days together seem so far from me

like fog on glass, it’s so hard to see

into the other side.

Time ticks on and the world keeps spinning

but memories of two loves grinning

are so distant they start dimming

leaving me alone.

Yet despite the distance; the miles away

in your hands my heart does stay

my love untarnished, without decay

is reserved for only you.

My, oh my, the sun in the sky

Grey Rocks.

(I hope you liked my little pun)

So this is a poem Grey Freeman wrote and posted on my facebook wall. And well, I thought it deserved more than just a facebook wall, so I am reposting it here.  Be sure to check out his tumblr. :]

 

a little letter was stamped wrong
and across oceans, it traveled long.
it was meant for you, and you alone;
your name is on it as if in stone.
and though this envelope has many hues,
to open it i shan’t muse.
these pictures of people in green and red,
were all meant for you instead.

-Grey Freeman (http://greyfreeman.tumblr.com/)

ps. Happy Halloween! :]

Here’s a po-M ’bout the eng. language. Ok?

Evolution

or decomposition

has occurred within the English Language.

Words were once pondered and selected with great care;

Speech was articulate and sure.

Language was beautiful, even fashionable;

It directly corresponded to ones rank and education.

But over time,

Such carefulness and importance

has been lost.

Replaced with abbreviations,

intentional misspellings,

and new-age lingo

all completely lacking the beauty language once maintained.

People speak mindlessly in broken, improper sentences

punctuated only by questions of approval.

It is as if that which is spoken must be approved by the listener,

or else its validity dimishes…

you know?

Language has been so severely reduced to

shortened words or

combinations of letters and numbers that form

gr8 and EZ wayz 2 communicate!

Contractions are consistantly laced within our language:

the ultimate form of laziness,

But,

Y do u kare? It doesn’t relle matter. Duz it?

Disgustedly,

Rachel

Plagiarism Results in Publicity?

Today I found out that my poem that I posted awhile back entitled “Simple Curiosity” was plagerized by a woman on a site called gather. She was caught plagiarizing other peoples’ work and left the site. After discovering this, I made it my status on facebook. That my work was plagiarized, that is. And I posted the link from the site where it was plagiarized. So I guess a few (and by a few I mean like 70) people checked it out, happened to scroll to the bottom where the woman was called out, and click on where it was cited to my blog. Therefore, thanks to someone stealing my poetry, I got 82 hits on my blog today. My average is around, well 5… On a good day, 10. Weird? Yea. I’m not sure how to feel!

Confusedly,

Rachel

Simple Curiosity

Do the colours of the flowers in the sunlight; so bright,

lose their colour as they fade into the night?

Do they seep through the stems and into the dirt,

to provide for the other side of the earth?

Are the colours that glow in their flowers that bloom,

recycled from our spring afternoon?

…to be continued. maybe?

Poetically,

Rachel

Rest

Rest your eyes now little one.

Rest your eyes; so tired.

Let your lashes kiss your cheeks good night.

Rest your eyes now, for the sun is gone.

Rest your eyes now little one, let your dreams be your guide.

Quietly,

Rachel

Rubber Glove Kingdom

Here is a poem I wrote in English class. (Posting it by request of Madeline) The assignment was to write something hinting the style of Ginsberg. Or, well… at least writing something obscure and making up some words I guess… I wrote about hospitals (because I wrote this when my uncle was in one…) and, I don’t mean to  make doctors and nurses sound bad. I actually aspire to be a nurse… I guess… I was just mad. Haha. Here goes:

The Rubber Glove Kingdom

In the ever enchanted Rubber Glove Kingdom,

Dwell the lime-jello brained care-giving doctors and nurses set on autopilot.

Check a chart, check a chart, check a chart, lunch break.

Feed their jiggly, shapeless fruit brains.

Each word they read in medical school, just another minute in the fridge,

Solidifying the gelatinous substance in their cranial mold.

And cranial mold was exactly what it was.

The rotting, wasting, destruction of something that could be good.

 

In the suburbs of the kingdom live the employees, the staff, the slaves.

Not good enough for jello, so pudding to fill their heads.

Whether they dance with the mop, fix the ever-dripping ceiling, or serve the voluptuous mystery of ground-to-a-pulp monkey masterpiece,

they are of the same species, and they all think with their jiggly mold minds.

 

When the electric egg yolk sun cracks and crashes onto the frying pan horizon each evening,

The dessert-headed robots head back to their cells.

They forget about the lives saved or lost in their daily symphony of sadness.

And this is the price of living in Rubber Glove Kingdom.

Dear Uncle Alan,

Leukemia is tough, but you are tougher.

Uncle Alan,

I love the way you cherish life.

I love the way you give.

I love the way that you believe.

I love the way you live.

I love your imagination.

I love to listen to your stories.

I love your crazy projects,

And that you stop to smell the Morning Glories.

I love your chipper laugh,

That goes along with all your jokes.

I love the way you’ll travel far,

Just to see your folks.

I love your appreciation for nature,

And your love to be outside.

I love that you can walk out the door,

And let the stars be your guide.

I love the way you teach your kids,

To grow up strong and smart.

I love the way you encourage them,

To listen to their hearts.

There are so many things to love about you,

And I thought that you should know,

Your family loves you endlessly,

And will never let you go.