All the creatures and critters,
Flying, walking, some swimming with flippers,
By their own way, yet constantly being hitchers.

Close by and sometimes clingy,
Every time I'm out on duty,
Sunny finds it so cutie,
Although it still annoys me.

Glancing at a mirror asking thee,
Give me a clue to this magical mystery.

Why do feathers and fur flock to me,
Is it the caring side they see?

Do I hold a sort of aura,
That exudes safety in a plethora,
Do they feel so secure,

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Jane: I am 18 now, I'm an adult, I can do whatever I want.

Dad: Jane, you've always wanted to work in my company, what made you change your mind?

Jane: Working in your company did not include the mail room!

Dad: Your sister Sarah started in the mail room and worked her way up, do you think you are better than her?

Jane: *Rolls eyes* Look, can I just have my inheritance?

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Set off the firecrackers, watch them swirl
Changing colours, winding with no direction
Bright stars hover above, staring down intently

Hollow love, masking a deceitful lie
The light sparkle of damp grass
Spinning, spinning, spinning

Fireworks, setting into overdrive
Deafening, intoxicating blurred lines
Players rejoice in a game of hurtful fiction

Wailing sounds behind the fence
Raised heartbeats scatter jumbled thoughts

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Nothing has a shadow without sunshine
And nothing has exhaustion without rest
Humanity, gods greatest disappointment,
Which somehow leaves us existing, at our best.

And though the oceans turn today
The winds are rising, my good friends
It's time to find that balance
Between our beginnings and our ends

we lack that true peace,
Which all of us shall dream
And here within the quiet
There is innocence it seems

A quiet child's laughter
Or the sun after the rain

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NOTE: I'm not depressed or anything, I'm doing really well, don't think that the poem I am writing is reflecting on my current feelings. Happier one coming later

Your everything I'd want in every single way
But i'm tired of waiting for you each day
Cause I know that you'll never say
"I love you too babe"

I'm just too in love too let you go yet
But one day I will, don't you fret
But right now your the best that I could ever get

Blocking me out of your universe

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Hi, I created this account with the first goal of spreading a short story I've been working on throughout a wider audience. However I have been inspired to do something else beforehand. My first follower has seen nothing of my work, but still believes it must contain something worthwhile. As a fellow poet, I herein offer a small piece from a few weeks ago. Though no one ever really knows what their poems are about for at least a few years, I imagine this has something to do with becoming a

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Books (12)

Books with their many tales,
Shouting out from their cages,
And if not read they cry and wail,
For, they are priceless pages.
"Fly free now!" I shout to them as I pass,
I say" Let your knowledge be shared, (give me your pearls)"
But then I hear a bell and say, "I'll be late to class, goodbye!"
I'll tell my story to all who'll listen, yet none care.
Books, lying on the shelf,
They gather up bugs and dust,
In the dark and shadows they dwell,

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A poem about Harry Potter erotica.
Its point is that the porn considered "normal" is more twisted than the porn in fan-fiction.

... though I'm not sure all of our fandom can say the same.

Live On

A man looked to me and said;
“All your fame is in your head,
The world will forget you when you’re gone.”

But I smiled at him, instead;
Turned around and looked ahead,
Because through it all, I will live on.

A woman looked at me with shame.
The world within my soul to blame.
With my hubris I let hatred spawn.

But through it all, I stood tall;
Never surrender, never fall.
I showed I was nobody’s pawn.

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Afternoon everyone

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Publish or perish, or something. Obviously less good than the other one, but I'd feel guilty about not posting something, and I want to work on my stories a bit more. (Granted, I did earlier today, too, but D&D and Cities: Skylines kind of devoured my whole day, fam.)

Anyways!

He came from the sea on a midsummer morn,
The nothing-faced boy with the salt-wrinkled hands.
He put on the clothes which he never had worn
And marched from the waves through the desolate sands.

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Since a poem is far too small to upload here, I figured I should offer it up via a blog post. This is something I wrote back when I first got into MLP:FIM, in fact I don't even recall when I wrote it. I do however remember writing it, considering the oddity of me writing poetry of any sort, since I've never really been interested in poetry.

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The Cold Heart (Previously: My Heart is Cold) (5)

My heart is cold stone,
Made up of granite, ice, and ash,
Never did it mourn,
And many times did suffer a lash,
My heart cannot break,
It cannot tell love,
Nor does it ache,
And neither does it rove.
My heart is shattered,
It cannot take or give,
And nothing really mattered.
For no reason there was to live.
My heart has been tossed away,
And there (in the ocean) will it ever lay.

The Wind

Oh blow away, go away, I say,
Come back oh please, cool me off,
Then it says, “How am I to please you?"
"How can I answer every whim?"
"Tell me, oh please, the answer,
And please don't change your mind"
I said, "You come on cold days,
And you don't on warm,
Tell me why you change?"
And it said, "I go where needed,
I cannot always be here and there,
For I am bound to nowhere,
Now I must go, do not try to follow,
For you cannot catch the wind."

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Hiya, lovely peeps!

I just wanted to share a poem with all of you. Itʼs written by a dear friend of mine. Enjoy.

The skin you inhabit is a sacred physical vessel for your soul.
So, be gentle towards your body; it keeps you alive every day.
And I know there are days where itʼs difficult to look in the mirror and smile,
We all struggle with insecurities at times.
Itʼs so easy. To glance at our reflection and think,
“I look like a mess today.”
“I donʼt feel beautiful.”

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I figured I'd share some of the poems I have here to make a timeline of when these poems were written, and also to give a tiny sneak peak at some of them. I hope you all enjoy! There's going to be at least 30 poems in the final book, and I'll post about it here when the time comes! After that, I hope to finally be ready to move back onto The Paths we Carve. I have all my notes prepped, and they're pretty much finalized. I just have to finish writing out the actual prose.

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Droplets.

Falling from above as we sigh.

Droplets.

Streaming as we cry.

Droplets.

Cascading though we don't know why.

Droplets.

Unpreventable even if we try.

Droplets.

Washing away the lie.

Droplets.

Redemption from the sky.

Tell me if you hear...

Hide away the fear...

Washing away.

Washing away.

Droplets.

Rain... Darkness... Why must we shun these things? These dichotomies of tranquility and chaos. We carry our own heat, when we bear our own light. Why don't we let our own warmth guide us? To see us through to better days, past momentary misery and inadequacies and sham and the iniquities of the powerful minority? There are so many more of us, all with our aspiring lights, our drives and dedications to do more, to think more, to become more. We stumble, we falter, we question and doubt and

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Art thou truly like my art?
art thou a fan of mine?
if thy is true to heart,
i thank thee, you're too kind.
~

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