Poetry of a Conlanger

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Retitled (6/28/06)

and re-turning
To the beginning.

Why so important?

Why so intriguing?

Cross-outs and blots,
Rough and messy handwriting—
That’s how life should be.
Save your mistakes; you’ll thank them later.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Moving On (6/24/06)


I’m beginning to breathe again,
Letting go of what happened.
It’s fading into fog,
And I have no desire to snatch it back.

Can I take back what I said?
Can you take back what you did?
No, of course not,
But it’s passing anyways.

Forgetting a lost love is called moving on.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Crown of Roses (6/5/06)

It’s something simple,
A crown of roses on a Monday morning.

I don it, and suddenly I’m different.
I walk and grin at complete strangers.
Weird looks? I laugh effervescently.
I have a tendency to dance from class to class.
I’m bubbling over with
A confidence I haven’t felt in ages.

I’m the unfolding bud,
The heir to the summer queen-
Who knows what I’ll bloom into?

And you? Oh, take a good look at what you’re missing.
I am ridiculously full of fun,
And I’ll share it generously,
But if you still don’t care—
Well, it’s as simple as the crown I’m wearing:
You lose.
I win.

And I dance away down the path.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Doldrums (5/31/06)

Stuck here,
In the Doldrums,
That dull valley between loves.

I’m a sailboat
On still, muddy water.
There’s no fresh breeze for me.

I try to get out,
But I’m rowing in circles,
And my oars get caught and lost
In the seaweed.

I’m bored,
And frustrated,
And I want out.

But I have to wait
For a fine, following wind
That can blow me
To a sheltered harbor
Or a sunny lagoon.

Don’t Make Me Hurt You (5/17/06)

Excuse me, slut,
Who do you think you’re looking at?
No, don’t you even
Touch him.

That’s right, you heard me.
Keep your filthy hands
For a change.

Yeah, I did just slap you.
Don’t try to tell my
You didn’t do that,
Or you’re sorry—
I know it’s a

I am so fucking sick
Of whores and how they
Fuck up
Good people’s lives.

You have the right to remain silent.

Dreams (5/21/06)

I cried silver tears
Because it was falling to pieces
And couldn’t stop.
I tried,
I tried,
But I couldn’t argue eloquently enough
To stop what he said.

And the tears
Glimmered on my cheek in the moonlight,
Pale and beautiful.
And somehow,
I found peace in this sadness,
A cool hollow where I can rest

The blue of tears.
Wove themselves into a blanket and a basket,
To comfort me and catch what I cried.
And when I’m ready,
When I’m ready,
The blanket will become my wings
So I can fly away.