My Poetry: #9

Today I’m sharing a poem with you that’s the 9th in a collection I’m currently working on (hence the title).  As usual, this poem is pretty open to interpretation, so feel free to reflect and come to your own conclusions.  I would love to hear them in the comments! Enjoy.


I am a dark child

Wolves teeth, steel heart, black eyes, lightning breath, hair that hangs

like weeping willow tears –

all wrapped up in paper skin

not porcelain (like those other girls who live in mirrors)

but paper.  All the words lay waiting on my skin.

Some have been beaten in.

All the words are breathing on my skin.

Some have been beaten in.

And me – dark child, child of night, child of the lights that burn

when they sky has closed its eyes –

me – with words that breathe and wait, that paint my body with

vowels and consonants, nouns and pronouns, verbs, and all their

commanding action –

most often can find nothing to say.


Thanks for reading.

– Julia


My Poetry: Dreams Piled On Dreams

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow? Hmm.  I’m writing poetry instead! Please enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments!

“Dreams Piled On Dreams”

Dreams pile on dreams

all silver and grey

like stars in the night

a lifetime away

Some burn and die

while others hold on

they cling to the vine

and forget to be gone

But people remember

They stop raising their eyes

They only look down

They abandon their skies

But when time’s at its end

The silvery beams

Will still last undying

Dreams piled on dreams

My Poetry: “Roots” and “Your Gift”

I’ve got not one poem for you today, but two! The first one is called “Roots” and the second is titled, “Your Gift”.  As usual, feel free to interpret in anyway you like and let me know what you come up with in the comments! I would love to discuss these and my other poetry with you.  Enjoy!


You’re never going to see this tired bind of flower dreams

Blossoming inside my head

and behind my eyes

and between my lashes

That spread their grasping roots through every nerve

so even my fingertips are thirsting for your rainfall


Alright, after you’ve gelled with that one for a second, here’s the second one.

“Your Gift”

everything that’s ever made you break

and anything that’s made you come undone

all the pieces torn up in your hands

and all the threads that ever came unraveled


I don’t just want your sunny day

and I don’t just want the easy smiles

the way you laugh and look at me

and when your heartbeat matches mine


I want everything you have

give every joy and pain and last goodbye

it’s not a pretty present

but it’s beautiful to me


So what did you think? All writers need feedback.  Let me know in the comments and, as always, thanks for reading!

– Julia




A Creepy Halloween Poem By Yours Truly

Ohmigosh, Halloween is only a day away!

In the wake of my insane excitement for one of my favorite holidays, I’ve written a creepy, gothic poem that I hope you guys enjoy! I also hope it freaks you out a bit.

Just to reiterate what I’ve said before, I’m not goth! To quote Lydia Deetz from Beetlejuice, I myself am strange and unusual and this is reflected in my writing.  So in case you’re picturing me like this:


Here’s the poem.

“Flesh and Steel”

The day I tried to laugh

And blood fell off my lips from the effort

Was when I knew I wasn’t right

So I looked inside and saw the machine


It whirred and smoked and roared and hissed

Greased by blood that was not red

— but black — black like oil coursing through my veins


And then I saw my heart hanged on a chain

One side was beating crimson, while the other

— I almost could not bear to look —

was cold and steel

Draining all my light away, choking it

with what I could not feel


I know, I know, it’s dark.  But I like creepy stuff and it’s almost Halloween! I’ll give you a poem about unicorns next time.

Thanks for reading and have a happy and safe Halloween! Let me know what you think about the poem in the comments below!


My Poetry: Come Home Little Girl

Today I felt like sharing another of poems with you all! It’s a little long, but if you take the time to read it, I’d love to get some feedback!

“Come Home Little Girl” was a completely random thing that came to me at like 1 am…I get inspired at the weirdest times.  Feel free to interpret it as you like! Here’s another glimpse into the dark part of my imagination.

“Come Home Little Girl”

Once I knew a girl who got lost in her head

Dreaming up demons she did not know

Never knowing where to go

Come home, little girl, come home


Every day was a change in reflection

Daughter, liar, rebel, friend

Lover, dreamer, real, pretend

Come home, little girl, come home


And all at once her voices started screaming

Every painted face awake

She felt herself begin to break

Come home, little girl, come home


The girl I knew put on her veil

And smiling, buried her faces down

Deep in her skin, on dying ground

Come home, little girl, come home


I saw how easily her heart could change

How every time it stopped or broke

A new one rose from hazy smoke

Come home, little girl, come home


Year after year and she’s still at war

Where her voices and her faces rage

Some fight for freedom, some love their cage

Come home, little girl, come home


I once knew a girl who was lost in her head

I want to give a lamp to guide her

To rise above the selves inside her

But she’ll only light the pyre

Let it burn up in her fire


Little girl I used to know

Come home, little girl, come home

– Julia

A Poem For Writer’s Block By Sir Philip Sydney

The Daily Suck

It’s been one of those days.  Those inevitable days when absolutely nothing comes to mind as a writer.  Frustrating? Unbelievably so.  As I sat here searching for something halfway decent to write, I remembered a poem I had read in my poetry class last semester (in case you haven’t been able to tell so far, I really liked that class).  Written by Sir Philip Sydney, the poem is about someone trying to write a love letter but is unable to do so because of writer’s block.  It’s one of the most relatable poems as a writer and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did!

“Loving In Truth”

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,

That she (dear she) might take some pleasure of my pain,

Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,

Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,

I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe:

Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain,

Oft turning others’ leaves, to see if thence would flow

Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburned brain.

But words came halting forth, wanting Invention’s stay;

Invention, Nature’s child, fled stepdame Study’s blows;

And others’ feet still seemed but strangers in my way.

Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,

Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite:

“Fool,” said my Muse to me, “look in thy heart, and write.”


– Julia

My Poetry: “Caterina”

The Daily Suck

Almost two years ago, I was blessed with the most incredible gift: my little sister, Caterina.  With the 15-year gap between us, I treat her like my little baby and love her more than I ever thought I could love anyone.  She truly lights up my life and gives me so much happiness! That being said, on her first birthday last year, I knew I had to do something special.  I ended up with this poem.  Entitled simply “Caterina”, I’m very excited to share it with you so that you can get a sense of how special she is to me.  Enjoy!

If my joy and happiness and laughter are caged birds
Then you are the key
And in the shape of a smile you unlock my heart
And bring all the good to light

If I want to know of love and purity and grace
Then you are my teacher
With the quiet wisdom of a child you inspire
I am content to sit at your feet

If my soul craves a song full of beauty and truth
Then you are a symphony
And your music lifts my spirit to impossible heights
I want all the world to hear you

If I long to see Heaven or a glimpse of my God
Then you are a window
And your eyes radiate with the glory of Divine Light
In every act, a daughter of The King

So in my imperfection
I know my words are not enough
and utterly inadequate
But maybe when days have turned to months and months to years
Maybe when you feel small and alone
You’ll read the words of a foolish girl
who loves you
to the stars and back