September 28, 2015

poet tree / a list of eight

i am about to share some of my poetry out into the interwebs this is quite a frightening venture for me. i can't clearly formulate the reasons for this fear in my head, but they include concepts such as:
     a. my poetry is quite angsty.
     b. my poetry is quite poor.
nevertheless, i'm releasing these vagrant poems from their paper cages. they are mostly from a slim volume of poetry circa. 2014, and they are mostly drawn from pink floyd songs, thinking too much, genuine boredom, and cute boys. and there is also quite a bit of Jesus in them as well. they are long and quiet summer nights, when my mind was wretched and raw with sorrow, and they are my memories, and they are my insecurities. but i'm not a poet. 
i'm letting these pieces because i need to be more honest with myself and you; you need to know that i am not a poet and i need to stop taking myself so seriously. i wrote these poems because i wanted to write poetry; i'm not a poet.

FEBRUARY THIRD, 2014 - the story speaks

welcome, wayward warrior,
to the river of my soul.
enter, hopeless wanderer,
to a scattered, silver shoal
and inside my mind enscroll
all that's left of your control,
and on the ragged page unroll
the blood you never bled,
the words you stole.


??? / 2014 - northern skies

the howling fire of the dawn,
the cracked and bitter sun:
you fade as night's dark ocean 
falls to cloak the winter sky.

this sunless fabric rolls 
across the shoulder of our ground;
yet still with hope, the faultless stars
pierce chasms in the sea.

i fell in love with northern skies;
they hold my heart in slavery.
encased in ice, my lungs whisper
in wonder of the stars:
the faultless stars.


FEBRUARY TENTH, 2014 - enjolras

do you remember yourself
in your quivering past
when your coming of age
ran away with your rage,
and the gathering stars 
slept beside your head.
but the blood in your veins
stained the paris streets red.
you fell for freedom,
and all your dreams
fell with you.


JUNE TENTH, 2014 - the storm: an experiment in slant rhyme

you saw my heart in fractures,
and you pushed your fingers in the cracks;
the wind is falling from my lungs.
my skin is drying on the rocks
of shale, and shaking in the sky,
with feathers frayed and black eyes dim,
the raven reads between the lines
and shudders at the story in
the clouds, and when the city lights
have faded and the sea runs red
you'll find me on the rain and 
in the rain, and of the rain: sad
lifetimes chasing through my hair;
grey ghosts inside a neverwhere.
we are the only ones left there:
the silent clouds.


??? / 2015 - she's a sculpture

she's a sculpture: cut and dry,
carved from mountains, born of sky.
ocean salt is in her veins;
she's an artist, scarred with stains.
silver stairs dance in her hair:
golden fire in her eyes.
she's the only one left here;
elvenfolk left her behind.


SEPTEMBER 24TH, 2014 - there are tiny moths in my room

shivering, quivering, inaudible wings -
the black and silver dust:
the charcoal beings.

shuddering, fluttering, i can never escape them - 
they, the mass of bodies:
the mass of ghosts.

chaos above, below. i huddle in the darkness - 
i'm shrouded in whispers;
the whispers of flight.

chaos below, above. i see constellations -
they correlate the sky;
they've taken my ceiling.


MARCH 2015 - a poem about God

you are irregular: lovely, terrifying.
i need you, but i am afraid.

you are the sky: soft, gentle, angry, terrible.
i cannot control you.

you are an enigma: a sword or justice, a cross of love.
i can't wrap my head around you.

you are the stars: brilliant, soft, full of rage, powerful, cold,
so near, and so far.

and you are an ocean: enthralling, dark, unfathomable.
i'm sinking into you.


AUGUST 2014 - the mourning star

a flash. a wave of light:
the rimless shell of light that fell
over his face...

his face is like the sun, the stars.
his eyes are full of tears: 
the world's tears, yet 
my tears, your tears.

in his eyes, all the sadness
of the world. the light 
that warms my skin in Jesus,
the mourning star.


  1. you may not be a poet, be these are poems. and they are ones that i love dearly!!

    i miss my abby. but these words make me happy.



    a poem about God reminded me of /fake you out/ by twenty one pilots.

    // You say I'm not alone, but I am petrified
    You say that you are close, is close the closest star?
    You just feel twice as far, you just feel twice as far //

    1. woahh. thank you, my love.
      i miss you too.

      i have never heard this!!! holy wow. it is so similar.

  2. Oh Abby....its beautiful! I hope you post more of your 'non-poems' soon. <3 :)

  3. I really loved enjolras and she's a sculpture.
    brilliant work Abby <3

    1. i truly appreciate it: thank you!
      if you like les misérables, we must talk.

  4. You know... you might be downplaying yourself a bit.

    If you posted these without the disclaimer, I'd be fooled into thinking you were a poet, no doubt about it. Each one is beautiful in its own way, and they all show glimpses of your heart and soul, which makes them fascinating. Poetry is what we make it. And one who writes poetry is by definition a poet.

    Anyway, just here to mention that these words are brilliant... So thoughtful and impassioned. I hope you choose to post more. (:

    1. this is extremely flattering as i truly admire your own poetry: thank you.

      you make good points. in retrospect, i think that i was attempting to disclaim my title of poet because i have never truly written poetry simply for the sake of writing poetry. i write when i am tired or angry. i'm glad you found it fascinating! the internal exposure was a new experience for me.

      thank you again. :)

  5. You have a way with words, non-poet Abby. <3

  6. ok you may say you're not a poet but
    these words speak like poetry to my soul
    i don't even
    your words (and your honesty alsdkfj) always pierce my soul and gah
    thank you for this
    you inspire me :')