done at six

My friends died today. I miss them terribly. They were a pair, and almost identical, but i could always tell. I lost them, which happened too often. I'd always find them hidden in the oddest of places. The little metal round nooks of my desk, in the folds of day-old clothing, one time i found them in my eyebrow! They were very tiny, so it wasn't ever difficult to lose them. But when i did find them, they had magnificent stories! Well they were quite ordinary stories, but from their meek perspective, even the chubby dust bunnies can be hazardous. Jeremy told me this one time that he watched Cecilia fell asleep on the newspaper funny pages. To someone so small, the pages are really soft! It makes me jealous that I can't be so tiny as to... but then the fate that they met... But Jeremy was telling me a story, and i was thinking it, and then not, but he said that she had layed her face on the funnies, and the colour sticked! She had a blue face the entire day. She said that she could have taken it off right away by flying around. Their sweat pushes out bad stuff. It's why they were always so pure. They went to visit my fishie the other day. His name is Hawk Megatron Bunnies. He has the sharpest eyes, but the softest tail. His scals are shiny like a metal rainbow in the light of the setting sun. Jeremy is a poet. He told me that, and he wrote it down too. Too small for my bulbous eyes to read, but i guess not small enough for a magnifying glass. They were in my microwave. In my cobbed corn in the fridge actually. But my  big friend who wanted  to eat the corn didn't know. She couldn't see my two little friends. Jeremy was who i heard first. his scream was an eerie persistent whistle, and then Cecilia chimed in with a sound like a screech from something sharp scraping across a bell. The noise broke my heart before I even understood that it was them. But it's okay though, they were old; way past their years. My mom says imaginary fairy friends can't survive past my sixth birthday, and I'm now 20...

Un-spirited

this little poem is flawed because I'm too lazy to work with it at the moment, but i will update it soon :P

One of many gorgeous round things,
Rolling like a scatt'ring blast.
Swept them sideways on their sideways,
Rolling, gliding, they'd been cast.
Unpredictable,
Nervous and gullible,
Scattered, splayed,
Cast, played.
Rendezvous,
Round they view.
Little men, young boys,
Freeing their hands and
Throwing their marbles. If
Only they knew.
I play a game, game,
The game if skills.
I steer the marble, and
I may make it still.
Still still i wait for
Some boys to play while,
Stuck inside a glass bubble,
Humble.
Painful: a sentence, to aid boys in fun.
It's fun, so so fun,
With my wings stuck straight...
And my spirit stuck straight...
I have no choices outside of this game.

Look to center of our mother,
plastic chokes the life of nature.
plant me some imperfect flowers.
ones to nourish bees and laughter.
enjoy colours, scent thereafter.
sun's sweet kiss and children's patter.
grass through toes, safe lovely nurture.
capture it, feed child's vague future.

fight to live

Trivial daunting
Light becomes haunting
Life less than living
I feel very guilty
So empty of filling
I’m wanting I’m yearning
I don’t cry. I should cry.
I’m much less more fortunate
My life is ornate
Privileged but burning
Crumbling for upkeep
Passion dwells hazy
In the corners of each eye
Always there but not fully
I can’t ever reach it
Too shy to exist
I must will it
And call it
And yearn

Sidewalk

Balancing on the edge of the sidewalk is tricky business.
One hearty gust of wind, and no matter how much arm-flailing,
falling from that ledge is inevitable.
A slight heart-skip and a step up later,
I find myself on the ledge once again.
I close my eyes and imagine i am on top of the tallest building.
Twilight has set upon the city, and a storm is rolling in.
I feel the first kisses of baby raindrops on my face.
The mist snaps at my senses, and my ankles start to wobble and strain.
It suddenly feels much higher up.
But I can’t step away from the ledge.
The fear of falling is hidden behind a veil of wonders.
The sun is flickering like a child’s heavy eyes,
upon the tops of cars lining roads like veins through the city.
The wild has come to reclaim their forest.
I see raccoons, and skunks, and possums,
and squirrels running feverishly free.
I wonder what falling would feel like.
I know my ankles and knees are in favour,
but my heart is hiding in my throat.
The wind is much stronger up here.
The baby drops have grown up into rain now.
I was once told that God is in the rain.
I wonder if He’ll give me wings.
I step forwards, heart swelling in my throat!
And it sinks back down as I land on cement.
Beside my sidewalk.
What limitations.

Light Age

Light Age, by Chelsea Papps.

acrylic on canvas