Favorite Poet

My favorite poet would definitely have to be Percy Bysshe Shelley. He only lived to be 29 years old, but in that amount of time he created some wonderful masterpieces both in fiction and in poetry. He was married three times, and lived and traveled all over Europe; now wouldn' that be the life!! I mean the traveling part....not the being married 3 times! I have included my favorite poem. I am quite the sucker for 19th century poetry....and this is it in it's finest.



The Indian Serenade
by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me -who knows how?
To thy chamber-window, Sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream -
The champak odours fai l
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must die on thine,
O beloved as thou art!

Oh lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;
Oh press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last!

Lost

This is a poem that I wrote a very long time ago....it was probably one of the very first ones I have ever written, so we are talking about like 1995. There really is no story behind this one. It is one that just came from some place inside of me with no story other then the one that needed to be told in the poem. This was also when I first started writing and thought that all poems had to rhyme. I soon learned that that wasn't the case, as 90% of my poems do not rhyme.

LOST

A lonely girl walks the streets alone,

Looking like nothing but flesh and bone.

Her skin is pale and fair;

Her eyes a ghastly pair.

One eye is black and the other is blue.

Bruises up and down her arms,

Hide what's left of the little girl's charms.

Tears roll down her face in a sheet,

Only to drop on her tiny bare feet.

She scratches her back with her shoe.

She walks through the night and into the day,

Never once stopping for a second to play.

The wind stings her face,

Yet she still hasn't a case.

No mother worries for her.

She is wandering in this terrible place,

Where a child can disappear without even a trace.

She wanders the streets completely alone,

Not having a place to call her own.

Hate is what people prefer.

j.l.h

SPIDERS

So, my husband is out of town at the moment, and he is usually the defender of this castle when it comes to all things icky and bug related. Well, last night, just before I went to bed, I noticed a rather large...yes, spider....crawling on my kitchen ceiling. Now everyone knows that when a bug is on the ceiling, it becomes rather impossible to catch such bug in an easy and unemotional way. Let me just back up and say that I am seriously afraid of spiders...like clam up, break out in sweats at the sight of one, won't go in the room scared. I think that it stems back to an incident where my brother decided to chase me around the house with a very poisonous spider that he had in a jar. So, of course, I couldn't go to bed last night knowing that the evil being was just sitting there waiting for me to turn in so it could suck all my blood from me in the middle of the night! My first plan of attack was to sit there and wish it away. Yes, I actually stood there and asked the spider ever so nicely to crawl back from where it came, into the darkness, where I didn't know it existed. After a few minutes of wishing, it proceeded to repel itself halfway down to the floor, at which point I shrieked and ran for the hills. Upon returning to the scene, the little booger had managed to crawl back up to the ceiling. So, plan B....grab the nearby bottle of 409 and spray it to death. Yeah, such a bad idea. The spray is more of a mist....so I inadvertently, 409'ed my entire kitchen with one spray (the fan was on, it wasn't pretty). The spray never even reached the spider. Plan C, I open up the cabinet under the kitchen sink and low and behold, there is my best friend, the bottle of RAID!! Since said spider was obviously not coming down from his perch on my ceiling, I would have to attack him from his own playing field. The can of RAID I knew had a pretty long spray radius, so standing back from the area of said spider about 15 feet, so as to not be to close for him to land on any part of my body, I pointed the can of RAID, and Blam! Spider is gone! What? Spider is gone, where did it go? It is on my head! I knew it!! No the spider was not on my head and after careful examination of the floor, I saw him struggling for life. I got to hand it to the little guy. He hung on for quite some time. Managed to get about 2 feet from where he landed, until the mighty force of my hand, from behind a long green fly swatter, brought him to his demise. I scooped him up on the end, held him as far away as I could and straight to the trash for you. Now, taking out the trash, will be a whole nother dilemma.....cause he is in there. Yes I know he is dead....it's just the thought. Seriously, I need to seek help!!

My signature

You may notice that on most of my poetry, I have signed it. I am copying and pasting a lot of it from documents that I have saved, so I just cut and paste the whole thing. Before I was married, I always signed my poetry with my intials all in lowercase, or my first 2 intials, and my last name, all in lowercase. I have decided to keep this trend up now that I am married. It is something that I started a long time ago, and it is how I will sign the last poem that I ever write. Capital letters are just so formal to me, and I am anything but a formal person!!

Changing Seasons

I cannot find a date for this poem, but I am guessing it was written around the age of 16 or 17. To give you a little bit of background information, my parents separated when I was 10 and were divorced by the age of 12. My father and my stepmother were married when I was 14, and two years later my first of 3 half brothers was born. To say that I was bitter towards my father and her would be an understatement. Since all of this, we have both been saved and my relationship with my father has never been better. But once, this was the way I felt......

Changing Seasons

The silence falls like leaves all around me
A gentle breeze blows in from the East granting my wish
The tears are dripping down onto the dewy grass
The valley below me is alive with mayhem
And no one realizes that I am gone
The excitement below is quite a remarkable sight
Yet no one questions my disappearance
Isn’t life just like one giant party
Where the host greets the guests with a jubilant smile
And the hostess plays “princess” with the child by her side
The guests are all among the up-and-up
And yet somehow you are invited to this feast
And left out in the cold with nothing to eat
But you know right away that you are the talk of the party
Do they know that when all is said and done
You cry those tears that are so commonly known
And you make those wishes that will never come true
Do they even realize that the last person on their invite list is YOU
What does it take to get noticed ‘round here
Can I help it that I am just so full of fear
It’s not my fault that you made the choice to leave and never come back
It’s not my fault that you chose to start a new life
So why then am I paying the price
For the mistakes that you made in this life
I have feelings and emotions and dreams and fears
But most of all I want to feel like I am important to you
Not like I am a reminder of the troublesome past
Seasons come and they always go
But I will always be yours and you will always be mine
No matter what time of the year it may be



j.l.h.

Afraid to Fall Asleep

Okay, well this poem is a lot more along the lines of what I have typically written. As most of my life has been lived in a state of dark depression and anguish, my poetry tends to lean towards that way of thinking. I have come to find that I do my best writing when I am at the lowest points in my life. Most of my poetry also includes dates when it was written. It helps me to remember that certain time in my life, as I have managed to actually block out most of my life before the age of 22. When there is a date on one of my poems, I will also include my age, so that you may be able to see my life as it unfolds before your very eyes. This particular poem was written at one of my lowest, but not necessarily darkest, times.

Afraid to Fall Asleep

Looking around and learning
Seeing things I’ve never seen before
Wondering what it is that’s behind the next door
A picture says a thousand words
But those words are different to everyone
Building up my garden of lies and truth
Believing that it will grow and prosper
Never thinking that my efforts won’t be enough
Doing it all for the happiness that it brings
The misery soon falls like a bird from the sky
Landing somewhere in the depths of my heart
Misinterpreting the misery for hurt and pain
Questions fill my head with doubt
Worrying won’t get me anywhere
At least not in this dream
Will I soon wake up and say
“What the hell was that?”
Oh please let me wake up soon
Before this dreaming of mine becomes my life



j.l.h.

March 18th, 2002

Age: 20

The first one

I decide that I would start out with a little sweet and sappy poem that I wrote for my daughter inutero. I take no claim over it as the hormones that were raging through my body at the time wrote it for me....it is definitely one of the most cutesy things that I have ever written. Moms...it's a real tearjerker.

Unborn

There are so many things for me to tell you

To show you and help you do

I don't even know what you look like

Or how you smell

Yet already I love you with all of my heart

Every day I become more anxious for your arrival

To look into your eyes and pull you close to me

I want you to depend on me for everything you need

I worry that maybe I won't be enough

Or that I'll get things all mixed up

So bear with me when I don't get things right

And know that I do it all for you

For my daughter who I love

September 11, 2005

Age: 24

This is me!

Or at least a recent photo of me seeing as how my overall look seems to be changing on a regular basis. It is amazing how a simple haircut, or an eyeshadow color can make a woman feel as if she is someone new all together. And men wonder why we get so upset when they don't notice. Somehow, the fiery redhead look seems to be my favorite, as it gives me that extra little spunk that I need.

I have decided to start this blog, not only to be able to have someplace to come to vent and try to keep my sanity while chasing my precocious toddler around, but at the same time, I wanted to be able to share with the world my poetry. I have a collection of over 100 pieces that I started on over a decade ago. To be able to read me and understand me through my poetry is to be able to understand a side of me that not many in this lifetime have seen. To many, I am sure that I may appear dull and commonplace since the majority of my day is spent cleaning house and changing diapers....but in the inside there is a truly adventurous captive waiting to be set free.

As I embark into the ever growing world of Blogging, I am sure that there will come many a day when the site of this computer will be my only link to the outside world. So to you my readers, my common thread to the masses, I encourage you to find something that you are passionate about that can take you away from the every day stressors of life. And I leave you with this....

"Fight for your opinions, but do not believe that they contain the whole truth, or the only truth." Charles A. Dana