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.

9

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