Cat Haiku

There was a smart cat
who liked to solve mysteries
and catch the bad guy.

A Quick Haiku

I had a blue book,
and I read it in math class,
and now it is done.

Remember to Forget

Moon is shining, window to the soul,
stare through the paper doll,
wallpaper hearts raining
water rivulets, leading lines.
Into the ocean, dreams and wishes,
washed upon a rocky shore.
Starry expanse, scars and clouds,
laughing scissors, cut into flesh,
forget the heart and hopes behind.
Learn to forget, remember that.

Dreamer

A silent, dreamy place,
all blues and greens and greys.
Peace of mind, a quiet heart,
gentle, sleepy streams.
Thoughtlessness, weightlessness,
a mess of wonderful memories.
No where else to be,
save, this gentle place.
Timeless eternity looming before,
and the past slowly fades away.

Lost Words

I felt all the poets of the city straining,
teeth clenched at the sight of dead words.
Forgotten or loved, either way, now gone,
a collection of thoughts now burned.
The cries of the past, the dreams of the silent,
the handwritten fragments of man;
Now gone, in one swift blow,
a piece of the soul, extinguished and lost,
the deed of illiterate leaders;
the new age has come, mechanical dreams
the hopeful future of earth.

A Poem is Poem

(This was an assignment for my English homework)
A poem is a reborn phoenix.
A poem is a soul with new wings.
A poem is a dancing fire.
A poem is a distant memory.
A poem is a voice of the past.
A poem is a gift from the dead.
A poem is the anger of failure.
A poem is a mocking voice.
A poem is ink on a page.
A poem is a speaking ghost.

Nancy Drew Books

When I was younger, I loved it when my dad would sit on the couch with me and read Nancy Drew Mystery novels to me. I loved the simply written novels, no matter how obvious the villian sometimes was. The older I got, I started looking for the Nancy Drew books. Of the original series, there are fifty-six books. When I first started reading them, I had three of them. Thankfully, my grandma worked at a thrift store and could look out for them for me. Then, as I got even older, I went hunting for them myself. It was always so much fun, finding a book that I didn't have.
Finally, I had collected every single book except for one. I think I looked for at least two years before finally finding it, "The Double Jinx Mystery". I was so excited about finding it and continued to be happy....until I realized that now I had no series to chase after. My life had no meaning, as it were.
I slowly recovered, buying other book series to cope with the loss, but those were new books, where I had to wait for the next book to be written. And I could find them anywhere, at any old book store. How boring is that?
Now, about five years after buying that last Nancy Drew book, a friend of mine told me that she and her mother were collecting them. I immideatly said that I would love to look for them on my usual book buying rounds. She agreed and said she'd pay me back for the books I bought. So now the hunt is on once more!
Also, I've discovered that the Hardy Boys are so similiar to the Nancy Drew books as well, so now I'm collecting those for myself. Oh, how I love my books! ♥

Irish Blessing

(I wrote this two summers ago at a lovely place called 108 Mile house. There was a plauque with an irish blessing on it, so I decided to write my own.)

 May the sun watch you by day,
and the moon watch you by night.
May your friends always be near,
and your enemies always take flight.
May you always have good work to do,
and always do it to your best.
May you live long, peace filled days,
and in the end, may you enjoy
a well earned rest.

This Feeling

This feeling.
It hurts.
I feel it so much,
I think I'll break!
But what is it?

It strangles me,
chokes me,
Until I can't breathe anymore.
I feel weightless, floating,
but then I'm suddenly heavy.

It feels wonderful!
It feels horrible!
This thing that I can't name.
Is this, perhaps, a disease?

Can anyone cure me?
Perhaps it's a madness!
A wild, raging, beautiful
madness!
Is that what it is?

Whatever it is, I have
it quite badly.
I'll never return to
what I once was.
This feeling insdie,
so new, so old.

Could this be...
the thing they call
Love?

Alive

All is calm and silent.
I slowly look around.
It's so serene and magical,
this world I'm in right now.

A wave of my arm,
and I now look up.
There's a light, right
there.
I watch the light in wonder.

I reach up to the light,
but instead, I hit a glassy
wall.
It shines and sparkles,
like a mirror,
but it won't let me through.

Suddenly I grow weary
of this silent world
I'm in.
I don't want to be alone;
I don't want to be here
forever.
I want to touch the light.

I try again, reaching with all my might.
But it's no use.
I'm in this quiet, lonely world
forever.
I sink lower and lower to
the bottom.
I'm drowning.

Trapped in this world
that I have created,
I give up.
I close my eyes, losing all
Hope.

I am suddenly picked up,
and brought to the light.
The light of the Father.
I breathe in the clear air,
and for once, I don't feel
alone!
I feel joy!
I feel peace!
And now, I truly am
Alive.

My Second Favourite Poem

(I recently discovered this one, and it right away became my second favourite poem.)

The Raven By Edgar Allen Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

My most favourite poem

I read this poem differantly every time. I discovered it about three years ago, and it is still my favourite.
 The Garden of Proserpine By Charles Algernon Swinburne

1Here, where the world is quiet;

2 Here, where all trouble seems

3Dead winds' and spent waves' riot

4 In doubtful dreams of dreams;

5I watch the green field growing

6For reaping folk and sowing,

7For harvest-time and mowing,

8 A sleepy world of streams.

9I am tired of tears and laughter,

10 And men that laugh and weep;

11Of what may come hereafter

12 For men that sow to reap:

13I am weary of days and hours,

14Blown buds of barren flowers,

15Desires and dreams and powers

16 And everything but sleep.

17Here life has death for neighbour,

18 And far from eye or ear

19Wan waves and wet winds labour,

20 Weak ships and spirits steer;

21They drive adrift, and whither

22They wot not who make thither;

23But no such winds blow hither,

24 And no such things grow here.

25No growth of moor or coppice,

26 No heather-flower or vine,

27But bloomless buds of poppies,

28 Green grapes of Proserpine,

29Pale beds of blowing rushes

30Where no leaf blooms or blushes

31Save this whereout she crushes

32 For dead men deadly wine.

33Pale, without name or number,

34 In fruitless fields of corn,

35They bow themselves and slumber

36 All night till light is born;

37And like a soul belated

38In hell and heaven unmated,

39By cloud and mist abated

40 Comes out of darkness morn.

41Though one were strong as seven,

42 He too with death shall dwell,

43Nor wake with wings in heaven,

44 Nor weep for pains in hell;

45Though one were fair as roses,

46His beauty clouds and closes;

47And well though love reposes,

48 In the end it is not well.

49Pale, beyond porch and portal,

50 Crowned with calm leaves, she stands

51Who gathers all things mortal

52 With cold immortal hands;

53Her languid lips are sweeter

54Than love's who fears to greet her

55To men that mix and meet her

56 From many times and lands.

57She waits for each and other,

58 She waits for all men born;

59Forgets the earth her mother,

60 The life of fruits and corn;

61And spring and seed and swallow

62Take wing for her and follow

63Where summer song rings hollow

64 And flowers are put to scorn.

65There go the loves that wither,

66 The old loves with wearier wings;

67And all dead years draw thither,

68 And all disastrous things;

69Dead dreams of days forsaken,

70Blind buds that snows have shaken,

71Wild leaves that winds have taken,

72 Red strays of ruined springs.

73We are not sure of sorrow,

74 And joy was never sure;

75To-day will die to-morrow;

76 Time stoops to no man's lure;

77And love, grown faint and fretful,

78With lips but half regretful

79Sighs, and with eyes forgetful

80 Weeps that no loves endure.

81From too much love of living,

82 From hope and fear set free,

83We thank with brief thanksgiving

84 Whatever gods may be

85That no life lives for ever;

86That dead men rise up never;

87That even the weariest river

88 Winds somewhere safe to sea.

89Then star nor sun shall waken,

90 Nor any change of light:

91Nor sound of waters shaken,

92 Nor any sound or sight:

93Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,

94Nor days nor things diurnal;

95Only the sleep eternal

96 In an eternal night.

A Sleepy World of Streams

A part of my favourite poem, "The Garden of Proserpine", by  Charles Algernon Swinbourne.

Hunted

Silent paws creep silently across the freezing grass. The icy scent in the air is the only guide that the starving creature has. A warm creature is nearby, ready to be eaten. The stalking creature knows the danger, but desperation overules it. Closer to the source of the scent, stomach tight and twisted. Lips begin to draw back in a silent snarl, revealing a row of white teeth. The prey is very near. The hunter can see it now.
A young girl shivers in the cold of the night. She wishes to finish her chores quickly, so she can go back inside and sit by the blazing fire. Impatiently, she waits for the lazy chickens to go inside their coop, so she can lock them in. While no chickens had been killed by wild animals for years now, it was still a slight threat. Clucking at the plump, silly creatures, she began to herd them, feeling colder by the second. Above her, the full moon rose higher in the frozen air.
The scent of warm blood was now floating towards the hunter. It took all he had to not rush out there and then. But he had to wait, had to be a little bit closer before charging. The frail looking prey would come down easily and would make a great meal.
Locking up the coop, the girl turned around, but then froze. She had seen something, a swift movment, a glimmer of eyes, hidden in the bushes. She stared intently into the bushes, waiting for the creature to appear.
Appear the hunter did. He leapt out of the bushes and hurtled towards the girl. Hunger now led him completely and he gave no thought as to what he did. All he knew was that the girl was prey and would soon be eaten. He leapt at her throat, teeth ready.
The girl didn't scream. But all of a sudden, the girl wasn't there anymore. Instead, a large wildcat stood there. Without a moment's hesitation, the cat attacked the wolf, tearing with both teeth and claws. The surprised wolf never stood a chance and within seconds, his worries were forever over.
The girl stood, gazing over the ripped apart remains of the wolf. She looked back at the chicken coop, where the chickens were all panicking at the sound of the fight.
"You're safe for now, you silly things. Be quiet." She said to them, and then, after wiping her hands free of blood on the the cold grass, she turned and walked away from the body of the wolf.

Lies

Please wake me up from this dead place.
It's all so fake and awful, so stifling.
I can't breathe for all the lies in the air!
What is truth anymore?
A thing of the past?
Once green life is now withered brown.
No more words to believe in.
A hall of mirrors, our only home.
Fake, cheap dreams are all we have,
too blind to see the ruse.
Once upon a time, I knew the truth.
Now I know a web of deceit,
of hateed and of sorrow.
Let me rest, I beg you, please.
The light is going out.

Spring

Across the green glade,
free in the wind.
Feet beating on hard earth,
a musky scent of early spring.
Warmth cuts through the chill,
the new sun bringing hope.
Frost melts into drops of life,
and first flowers spring from the ground.
Sprouting wings, flying free,
calling out with joy.
The rains are gone and spring is here.
Let life begin once more.

Unicorn

It was a creature born pure,
without hateful thought, or evil intent.
A creature of love and peace,
white as falling snow, and just as pure.
It grew up, cared for, watched over,
learning kindness and patience.
The creature grew wise as it grew,
and one day the delicate creature
went out to find its own land.
Farewell to the green forests,
and farewell to crystal lakes.
The creature hoped to make new friends.
But as the pure creature stepped
out of its safe haven,
it met a bitter darkness.
The darkness was strong and forceful,
spreading with ease, and consuming light.
Light such as the beautiful creature.
Time and again, the creature fled,
until it returned home to be safe.
But alas, the darkness had already
come, destroyed, and gone again.
And so the creature was the last of its kind,
shedding bitter tears of grief.
Then fled the still pure creature,
away from the darkness, to another place,
and so fled the last unicorn.

Complex. Confused. Catastrophe. Calm.
Hurt. Hope. Heal.
Dream. Dare. Dance.
Sing. Share. Seal. Smile.
Laugh. Live.

Beach

Across the dusty ground,
a light, a soft, comforting gold.
Waning warmth and friendships felt,
salty air, bitter and sweet.
The feeling of freedom, of eternal peace.
Lazy birds cry in the air,
back and forth in gentle breeze sway.
Dreams are alive and well,
floating in the air; potential is there.
Sculptures and games melt away,
as the soft cool approaches.
Time has no hold just now,
all is one lovely dream.

Silence. Sound. Speak. Stay.
Talk. Tell. Together. Torn. Tears.
Cry. Cut.
Sigh. Sick. Sore. Slide.
Fall. Fail. Feel.
Lost. Left. Locked. Loser.
Stupid. Simple. Sorry. Sigh.
Breathe. Break. Beckon. Believe.
Trust. Turn. Take. Talk.
Grow. Give. Gain.
Weaken. Wake. Wan.
Sigh. Sleep.

Hurt. Heal. Hurt.
Remember. Recall. Restless.
Stretch. Strain. Seal.
Dull. Dusty. Dead.
Friendship.

First Blood

A scent in the air,
a shiver across fur.
Closer to the target,
metallic taste in mouth.
Creeping slowly, eyes glinting.
Calm, peaceful scene,
soon to be changed.
Gentle breeze, hint of dark.
Roaming, unaware,
innocent life, innocent hunger.
Closer still to the target.
A slight stumble over stone,
sudden awareness, panic.
Let loose, bursting forward,
energy unleashed.
No time to run,
eyes grow dark.
Eyes gleam with success,
and the taste of first blood.

Summer Day

Golden light, warmth and laughter.
The smell of green, musky, sweet.
Shoes forgotten, along with cutlery.
Wild freedom, drifting clouds,
and warm water.
Dead creatures ignored,
laughing, cool shade.
Sitting, dreaming, eyes open.
Eating, singing, timeless peace.
Blending together, dry dusty road.
Forgetting; blissful silence.
Cool breeze, hint of rain.
But for now it is summer.

Attic

Decrepit, dusty place.
Cobwebs spun, stick to my skin.
Memories flutter in the breeze.
A hush, a whisper, a slight remembrance.
Scuttle, scurry of hidden creatures.
Rot, musk, forgetfulness, lost.
Watchful blind, golden light.
A wish, a dream, packed away.
Stolen thoughts, worn out floorboards.
A silent flutter, crystals in the air.
Voices silenced, frozen smiles.
Creaking door, final farewell.
And the magic once more is lost.

I know I`m awful, but...

So my plan when I first restarted my blog was to post something every day. And it worked well for the first two months. But then January and February hit, and I got busy, and then lazy, and I stopped posting every day. And I felt so bad! But it`s a new month, and I`m determined to post at least one thing every day again. I`m already ahead for this month! Yay!

Katherine

(So you know how musicians and other people get a part of a song stuck in their head, or one line, or something, and it won't go away until they write it out? Well it's like that for me, except with characters. I had this character stuck in my head and her story had to be written out. Below are two poem/monologue type things about her. Her name is Katherine.)

In a school somewhere:
Oh, I see. That's how it is then? A ring, a ring. Ashes. Did you see me falling down? Like a badly built bridge? So....you don't feel the same way? At all? No, no, it's all fine. I simply thought...no, maybe I hoped...but it doesn't matter now. Or does it? See, before, I thought I had a chance. No matter how small. I guess...now? Now I don't. I simply don't understand, that's all. I have so much love for you! How...how is it that you have none? Oh, of course, you have plenty. Just not for me. It's okay though, really. Really. You see, I love you so much that I have enough love for both of us. So it doesn't matter if you hate me. Ashes; and then we all fall down, into the dust. So it's okay. Really. Because...because I love you too much for it not to be.

In a dark, cold building:
Me? Oh, I`ve always been here. Always. At least, I think I have. I have such a bad time remembering things. But I`ve never needed to. No...that`s a lie. They always wanted me to remember, back then. But I couldn`t. Wouldn`t. I`m like a wild bird, you see; you can`t tame me, even when you try. It only...crushes me...but now I`m fine. Oh yes, I like it here. I like it a lot. I have to, don`t I?  My only home. You could say it`s my world. If I hated my world, then life would be nearly unbearable, right? Friends? No, none...no, that`s a lie too. I have many friends. But they don`t like you....no, you can`t meet them. Of course they`re real! I`m friends with them, aren`t I? In my head? Haha. What isn`t in our heads? Take...love. You can`t see it. Touch it. Wrap it up in a box and give to me. But you seem to think it`s real. Well I don`t. It`s all in your head, you see. This...love. Lies, lies, all lovly lies. No, I don`t. In fact, I could even say I hated you...but that`s all in my head too, isn`t it? You might say that my entire world is in my head. And that`s what makes it real.

Books-February 2012

(From now on, I'm also going to be adding the total books that I've bought in a month. Just because.)
Books read:
-The Dangerous days of Daniel X by James Patterson
-The Hunger Games Official Illustrated Movie Companion by Kate Eagan
-The Hunger Games Tribute Guide by Emily Seife
-Watch the Skies by James Patterson
-White by Ted Dekker
-Scorpia Rising by Anthony Horowitz
-Forbidden by Ted Dekker
-The Cat who ate Danish Modern by Lillian Jackson Braun
-Stargirl by James Spinelli
-The Sable Quean by Brian Jacques
-The Art of Leonardo Di Vinci
Total:11

Books Bought:
-Fire Bringer by David Clement-Davies
-The Paradise War by Stephen R. Lawhead
-Patrick by Stephen R. Lawhead
-Byzantium by Stephen R. Lawhead
-Taliesin by Stephen R. Lawhead
-The Crystal Cave by Mary Stewart
-The Cat who ate Danish Modern by Lillian Jackson Braun
-Scorpia Rising by Anthony Horowitz
-Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
-The Hunger Games Official Illustrated Movie Companion by Kate Eagan
-The Hunger Games Tribute Guide by Emily Seife
-The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux
-Shakespeare (complete works) by Shakespeare
-Lady of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley
-The Forest House by Marion Zimmer Bradley
Total: 15