a poetic presentation of the madness that goes on in my head

it seems i’m slowly descending into the aesthetic. my title isn’t capitalized, these sentences aren’t capitalized, i’m not capitalizing the ‘i’s, and this is a post about poetry. i might as well try to be a basic instagram celeb.

yep, it’s true. i finally decided to slap myself in the face, decide that i really don’t care anymore, and decided to post some of my poems. this is gonna be SO fun…

by the way, i can’t stand myself not capitalizing the things i need to capitalize, so i’ll just do it for this post. do it for the  a e s t h e t i c

 

as you may already know, i HATE sharing my poetry/writing. i hate it.

oh well.

*oh gosh the red grammarly thingys are driving me NUTS omw*

---

 

the clock,

that beast that marks me til my death,

ticks louder, louder still

as i lie and stare at the wall

my sister’s breaths

come in syncopations

and they are heavy

for she is far away.

 

A thousand whispers

Live within these walls

From when this old room

Echoed with fresh youth,

Boyhood, and energy.

But now it lies still

Stagnant and dusty

A relic of things past

Resigned to a dusty fate.

 

My mind ticks

tocks

ticks        tocks

rings at every quarter-hour

chiming at me and chiding

“go to sleep now!

now you must sleep!”

warning of me of the night

but it is far too late

to listen to any reason

least of all my own.

 

One would come, one would go

One would smile, but then say no

The lies were thick, the drama wild

So I became a lonely child

But then you came, we talked for hours

and you were the best of all the flowers

^ i don’t like the ending to this one but i couldn’t think of a better rhyme so i’m just hoping in vain that you get that metaphor/reference from harry potter idk

“People who feel deeply are like the deep end of a pool; they’re harder to trust but once you do, there’s so much depth to explore.”

^ not a poem but good enough

in my head, it sounded like shakespeare.

on paper, it sounded childish.

–

on paper, it sounded nice

in my head, it sounded like overanalysis of silent sound.

^ idk what this is tbh

To her,

It wasn’t a bedroom;

It was a cave

To stuff her treasures

And climb the rocks

And view her riches.

To her,

It wasn’t a bed;

It was a mountain

To sit atop,

Curled up,

Surveying the land.

To her,

It wasn’t fur,

It was scales;

It wasn’t breath,

It was fire

Hotter than the sun.

To her,

She wasn’t a cat –

She was a dragon.

^ ah yes, my cat XD

“poetry, for me, is when i stop thinking about my life for a few minutes and just feel. just raw emotions and love; and it’s just me and my heart, staring at the fish tank, desperately trying to understand myself.”

^ wow, catharine, so original

the room is static

with my anticipation;

the fish tank bubbles

get louder and louder,

the music from below

grows tenser every beat;

my heart beats, beats, beats,

waiting as the seconds

stretch to hours,

then to years,

until you tell me.

^ guys honestly idk at this point, there’s no going back now

my mind’s pitch black

it’s dark in here

hello there,

will you let me out?

my poetry’s sappy,

my brain’s a mess

hello there,

will you let me go?

i know it needn’t

be all about you

hello there,

will you set me free?

but that’s the only thing

that’d come out of my pen

hello there,

you were the one who let me out

^ huh?

another long night,

staring at the fish

listening to the bugs

wondering about everything

–

just one more “i can’t sleep”

to add to the gallery

of rereading texts

and rethinking my past

–

just another excuse

to think about you

or count sheep

but i’m not sure which

^ this one might be my favorite

you told me to write;

but how? i said.

don’t worry, you said,

your pen will find its way.

you told me to write;

about what, i said.

about anything, you said,

it doesn’t matter.

you told me to write;

but i can’t, i said.

yes you can, you said,

there’s always something.

you told me to write;

i’m no good enough, i said.

yes you are, you said –

why? because i said.

^ s/o

we are all mist

all told that we matter

that our voices will be heard

that we will change the world

but our ideas

float away

they blow off

with the wind

just the mist again

the whispers

of a better future

that are never heard.

^ OK BUT IN MY DEFENCE it was 12:10 exactly (yes i wrote the time down) and i couldn’t sleep

their hazy world

all quiet

light diffusing gently

they live in their fish tank

noise is inconsequential

the hurt is blocked out

by five thick sheeets of glass

–

but one day

the glass will be shattered

and the hurt will reach them

and they will realize

after all those years

of hiding away

finally they’ll see

the part they missed

^ guys just being real, the last two poems were written within 10 minutes of each other and i was literally staring at my diffuser (rose fyi) and my fish tank i’m only half being serious

blunt

but the sharpest

most penetrating

–

aloof

but the most knowing

most present

–

vague

but always knowing

my right direction

^ vague, just like the meaning of this… you will never know, and seriously, future english majors, don’t even try to pick it apart

what you said

was not what i heard

what you thought

i thought i knew

when you laughed

i guessed why

–

but when i asked

if i was right

i still couldn’t get

what you meant

^ i’m not sure either

 

so (finally) that is the end of the poems in my little brown notebook with the coffees on it with the botched identification inside the cover + a good try at a drawing of a coffee

(and yes that’s an inside joke)

 

if you haven’t already left due to boredom, depression, second-hand embarrassment for me publishing these, or a shocking combination of all of the above, i advise that you leave.

this whole “a e s t h e t i c” thing isn’t lasting. just for the poetic post about poetry.

 

sorry.

 

baiiiiiiiiiii