Through the forest of thorns and bristles….

So I like to write but I’m never satisfied with what I write because I just have a low self of steam (I’m working on that). Poetry and fiction/playwriting are the types I like to write the most, especially poetry. I have never been one to keep a diary- for some reason writing out my thoughts or daily struggles isn’t therapeutic for me contrary to what the typical psychologist says. But I can find solace in writing a piece of poetry or a short story, whenever I feel the need to get my thoughts down- whether good or bad. I think it is because I feel weird writing “today I got into a fight with my parents and I’m really upset because I feel like a piece of shit and the opposite of a good daughter- why do I have to be so mean”, it is very “dear-diary-ish” and it’s a little uncomfortable for me. However, I will pull out my journal and write a poem or short story or even just jumbled sentences that only make sense to me. The things I write to release some of my stress do not directly deal with me or my exact problems, but things or ideas that are influenced by my thoughts at the moment. In this way, I can avoid the awkwardness of seeing my list of confessions and problems written down on my page; it is more subtly shown through my writing. Well, I have been going through my journals, looking back at stuff i have written and I decided to compile the poetry I like best so far in a consolidated space- a separate journal. I’m not sure what I will do with them- I might make a little book and give copies out to my friends and family, but for now they are safe in my journals. To get over my fear of multiple people seeing my work at a time- I already started by posting my photography portfolio here- I am going to share some of my writing with you guys. So here are four poems to start off with. I’m no Frost or Dickenson, so bear that in mind 🙂


She stands facing a mirror
her eyes misted over
her arm moving forward.
she touches the glass
to see if it’s real
fake is all too familiar
in this world she can’t feel.

Fingertips graze across
a double edged sword
brazenly cutting her
yet makes her assured.
she leans closer and closer
her eyes wandering ships
exploring new waters
her cheeks, nose and lips.

She laughs and she cries
at what this mirror is saying
lies and deceits
yet the honesty’s aching.
and then she steps back
reality steps in
fake is the mirror
society’s kin.


Quiet falls the snow
on an evening with no stars-
the moon a lone soul.


Hold with a heavy heart
your tears
Hold with a heavy soul
your years
Hold with a heavy head
your fears
And walk away
with your death near

You’ve overcome what has
been put in your path
Yet the tide always rises
with its harsh wrath
It destroys and destructs
with a sad aftermath
Sends you out in the cold
with no view of your path

So hold with a heavy heart
the moments that crumbled
Hold with a heavy soul
a life that was bungled
Hold with a heavy head
the words that were mumbled
And walk away when it’s time
Life no longer is troubled


Through the forest of thorns and bristles….

You will come out to see the sun

and the moon and

the stars


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s