A helping hand
we are just caught in a wave of history
let others rise and take our place until the Earth is free
the color of the world is changing day by day
surrounded and sprinkled on all sides by stars
joy is the backward surge of terror
how your world may be changed in one burst of light
we are children of dust and ashes
with their candles of grief, we will kindle our flame
a breath away from where you are
where you once stood will let us rise
rain will make the flowers grow
with their voices as soft as thunder
So my best friend texted me needing help finding a quote (likely for an embroidery project). As follows is her request; "
Surrounded by random flowers
BUT WHAT QUOTE?
It has to be from a musical, I've decided that.
Not too hedonistic, not to blatantly theater, me vibe,
I trust ur judgment."
So I sent her a list of various quotes from musicals we both love, primarily Les Mis, and gc. I kept searching and found some new ones so I sent those as well, and then realized it almost read as a poem.
If you want to know where any specific quote came from, just ask.
Heavy to a Warmth
Everything is heavy
Some of us still have jackets on
I don’t know why
My veins feel like they are being filled with lava
Smooth, feverous, and so, so heavy
My thoughts are muddled
They always are
I know the girl in front of me
She’s sweet and kind
Motivative, supportive, but wearied
Her head lowers every minute that passes
The guy to the right of me is also a friend
He’s clever and has a sharp tongue but exhausted
Exaggerated scribbles cover his page
Insomnia has always plagued us both
The boy behind me I also know
Not well like the others,
But I do know him
He plays soccer & has a girlfriend
He also plays the guitar
The pencil he’s holding droops
Conversation pops up through the class
It never stays long
The default is heavy, heavy silence
But we appreciate it nonetheless
A reminder of those alive around us
A song plays through my headphones
The beat is different
It’s a song from my childhood
I forgot the name the minute I walked into the classroom
I forgot my name too
My leg sways back and forth
Not to any rhythm except to the thoughts in my head
Eleven minutes left
But time never has any real meaning
At least to us
Someone walks past me
Stifling a yawn
The breeze that follows is the same temperature as the sodden air
It never really changes
Every thought is numb and slow
It might have to do with the whole not sleeping thing
Or maybe because I haven’t had food today
But that’s neither here nor there
I trace my veins lightly with a pen
They are large and green
It bugs me that they don’t match my left hand
Those are tiny and purple
Never beating fast enough for this world
My glasses fall off so I put them back on
This repetition will follow us forever
A bell rings somewhere
I’m not sure why
But I know I’m supposed to leave
For somewhere else
My head drops lower
I don’t hear the music anymore
The earbuds are gone
My glasses too
I hear my Chromebook closing in front of me
A sweet familiar voice asks me a question
I’m not sure what question though
I open my eyes and I see the face of the person I trust most
A friend doesn’t even begin to cover it
She’s crouching next to me
I don’t think she goes to this class
No one else is here
No one ever is
Why is she here?
Are….no...am I okay?
Her face looks concerned
She’s asking another question
This time I can understand it
No, I’m not feeling okay
I think I shake my head
She sits on the floor next to me
I close my eyes again
My teacher asks her a question
It sounds muffled and bleak
Not sure what it’s asking though
She laughs it off
Her laugh is so sweet
I hear music again
A soft voice singing
“Si tu n'étais pas là”
An English voice singing French words to a French song
The irony is always lost on me
The warmness around me
Is sweet now
Not heavy like it once was
I close my eyes again
And feel warmth
This is an old poem about the same lovely person from the Yellow poem, who I am unfortunately still in love with. I suffer from several disabilities, the big one being chronic neurological pain, and depression, which leads to me being fatigued, and feeling heavy. This poem starts off in my algebra class which was right before my lunch and walks through my observations of people around me, and then to slowly falling asleep, and my dear best friend finding me and convincing the teacher to leave me alone, and then singing sweetly.
A one-sided poem (pt. 3)
Ah I hear love in the world,
it fills my heart
replenshing my soul.
Love is truly a special thing
not to be spoiled with thiefs and liars
Ah, alas my heart loves once a theif
and many times a liar,
though I have never once regretted
the love I hold,
many a people have told me off for the love I once held,
and I vanquish these detriments.
We wished and waited for the
Earth to grow into something good.
But it became more than that.
It became life, water, air, winds and people.
Animals and creatures able of good
It was the best thing we ever made.
It was the worst thing we ever made.
Alas this is our stop for now, hopefully the future holds more poetic sentiments, but I am quite sick as of now, so we must pause it.
Will return in the future,
Thank you so much for the follows and likes dear readers.
A one-sided poem (pt. 2)
The deep cerulean rivers watched you gro,
learn and play,
and they will watch you die someday.
They will watch over your children and your home,
until it long has since been yours.
But do not be afraid,
for it is not a warning,
but instead, a promise made to our kind.
A flower is only as strong as its roots dear child.
It grows and grows until,
eventually, it is stable enough
to flourish and shine,
Do not push yourself, dear,
for we are only as strong as who we are.
Ah, dear love,
life without tragedy
is as boring as one without love
for love and tragedy define our souls
to prove if a heaven and hell exist
or if we are,
A ghost of my affection lies in your heart
I haven't seen it in years
so please my dear
care for it until our deaths,
and share it with people of love.
They get longer and longer as we go on.
A one-sided poem
Flowers will blossom in your presence,
Ah it comes to reason;
the gray will fade in time,
though the country flag will raise inevitably.
and the Sweet nature of those
that rose above silently and benevolently.
The gray headed wept
the songs of the unknown,
lost forever to time.
My lovely friend Jo was texting me beautiful poems she was reading,
and so I was responding to those poems, and these are just my replies to them.
My nerves fight against me
The sinews tangle, tripping me from life
My muscles react suddenly
Making me fall
I and the glass in hand crack
Balance was always bad
“Clumsy,” they said
I’m dehydrated and exhausted
Who cares enough to fix it
I barely eat or sleep anymore
I couldn’t ever explain the lethargy
Now I can
But there’s nothing to fix it
The bruises develop
I see the glances
They think someone’s beating me up
Just me and my constricting blood vessels
The shaking is frustrating
My hands are always uncertain
The nerves are slow now too
I can touch a burning surface without realizing it for a few seconds
Seems it shouldn’t be that bad
But the countless burns that speckle my hands
Would beg to differ
Physicians and pharmacists look at me skeptically
Guessing I’m faking for attention
It’s even worse when it’s basic adults in my life
Teachers, nurses, cashiers,
I hate explaining it over and over again
But it’s my life and I have to continue it
You see her colour in every person’s laugh,
In the trees and birds,
While watching the world one moment at a time.
You watch her grace,
Her messy hair,
And think perfection is in imperfection.
She texts you worried and frantic,
About your health & wellbeing,
The colour that glows from your phone is one of caring and fret.
When she talks to you excitedly about the things she loves,
Or texts you late at night with the stupidest jokes,
It’s the colour of warmness.
Her ideas & designs,
The way she wants to change the world,
Paints everything in the colour of incandescence.
The times when she’s sad,
The world is muted and tired,
Her colour is one of life.
When you tell her a joke,
And she laughs so hard she cries,
Everything is the colour of joy.
She shows you how silly the world can be,
Permanent markings of her creativity line your walls,
When you are sad, you look at them and think of her.
She giggles when you make height jokes,
Occasionally poking fun back at you,
The colour of amusement shines across her face.
On a sunny day
When the wind is moving,
The trees rustle,
And you can truly see the beauty in this world,
You see her colour, emanating from everything.
An old poem of mine about my best friend who I am (still) pretty in love with.
Dreams of Poets,
Memories of twisted sleep
Deep, dark, compelling
Writhe, and fall
Though not all are dark
Some are memories of light
Sweet, calming moments
Laughter spotted through the wind
Sunshine, mountains, oceans
People of love and loved
Some are neither dark nor light
Instead, a wrinkled thing of varying grays
Not of sunshine nor the absence of
Instead of perpetually gray
Consuming and dull