the words always come

I don't write poetry much, not really. My emotions are better expressed through prose or pictures. But there are some events in my life that I feel must be immortalized in some kind of verse. It's been five years. Today, I finally found the words for that exact moment.

And finally, in one quiet shudder,
The November wind has blown out
The one kind flame that sought to heal so many ills. 

A sterile death is an expected one.
Each minute a dagger to the hope of life. 

xo,
Katy

July 1971

 

"In sickness and in health"
Was more than just a promise.
You showed it to your children,
And taught them to be honest.
Now they don't go a day
Without saying the words
"I love you." 

time of the season

Grey streets lined with the ancient bones
Of houses built so long ago.
Trees in the middle tinged with red
Leaves falling down upon my head.
Fall wind whips at my tangled hair,
October--sometimes too much to bear.
I see you slim frame walk along
The same paths my hands have drawn
In the shakiness of unmet grief--
Each thought captured by a falling leaf.
My mind sees this scene each night before
I lay my head upon my pillow. 
I would love nothing more
Than to hear you say hello.

xo,
Katy

under the bed

 

Light crept into her heart,
Found the darkest corners and
Cleaned under the bed. 

Hope caught her like a snare.
She had no choice but
To believe in tomorrow. 

xo,
Katy

acrostic, a cross stick

Instead of going to bed or doing some last-minute studying, I wrote an acrostic about no one specific. The things stress does to me! At least this is somewhat constructive. I could be pigging out on Ramen or something. This has fewer calories. 

A time forgotten long ago--

(Because of a faulty memory or choice? I do not know.)

Condescending voices rang out that night

Deafening words to inspire fright.

Everything stopped (my heart mid-beat)

Frankly, my knees were sickly weak.

Gone was the trust I had in you,

Hate, that sickly colored hue.

I'm sorry you're finding out this way,

Join me, on this mourning day.

"Katherine," your voice pleaded with me.

Lies, really, were all you could speak.

Mostly I'm over it, though sadness is there.

No, it hasn't been more than I can bear. 

Only you, forever, and always, for me.

Parting words shortened that eternity. 

Quiet, quiet, do not wake my heart.

Rest, let it rest! Don't let it restart. 

Stained, those memories are gone.

Time has not cleaned them, time has moved on.

Under my bed your pictures still sits.

Violently, dust gathers, in that dark pit. 

Waiting on you in the band room alone

Xylophone sounds, my company my phone.

You did not get the best of me after those years

Zoloft no longer needed, happiness appears.

 

xo,

Katy

cacophony

Time has slipped away from me

A fading quilt in the sun, you see,

I don't really mourn the day when

I walked away to a silent din.

Your words not forthcoming,

My heart not worth breaking.

I don't regret a thing.

Your eyes still search for me

On the streets filled by a cacophony 

Of lovers crying out to be redeemed. 

There will be no reconciliation.

Not with your notions, your eyes blinded

By what you thought love could be.

small comfort

I'll sit at this piano until I die--

Let the music be the tears I cannot cry.

Each note, a syllable, to fill the space--

Painting the words my heart cannot face.

Hard ivory and wood worn with time,

Many hands have touched; tears sublime. 

My fingers--so small--yet a large sound make,

Small comfort, shielding my heart from certain break.

I'm not a master, though I do try

Bach would laugh as I would cry. 

Of all the melodies played in our time,

Mine--but small thread in that great twine.

static state

I must confess, the view from where I sit has been rather grey. 

 

She sits quietly in front of her second story window. Even though the calender says February, the grass is green. Humidity hangs in the air. The cadence of the raindrops hitting her windowpane lull her into a quiet daydream. Life has been moving much too quickly for her liking. Time to think is a precious rarity in her world. Usually her self-seclusion brings on peace. Today it brings a longing for something more. Her heart longs desperately for the flowers to bloom or the snow to fall. This muggy in-between only causes her heart and legs to grow antsy.

She knows either snow will fall or the flowers will grow in their own due time. One or the other must come. She cares not which, only that she finds the strength to breathe again.

A discomforting itch one cannot place--

The longing for new time and space.

Wanderlust will strike us all

Unexpected, we heed her call.

Take me away to that garden above--

Give me wings like the white-feathered dove

Show me the world I have not seen.

I know somewhere is beauty I can glean.

Let me breathe the cool, clean air--

The smog of this city hangs in my hair.

My lungs are restricted by ropes of twine

My heart, it ignores the wandering signs.

I'll be covered in ivy before I can move--

My static state is merely cued

By the intense desire to run away.

I really can no longer stay.

xo,

Katy

hey jude

So, I've really failed at my "fifty-two weeks" project. And to think I wanted to do a 366? Ha! School is crazy this semester. Craaaaazy. I feel like I say that every time I blog. But it's the truth. So here are some old pictures. I was going back through old Facebook profile pictures and really liked these.

 

So do three old pictures make up for the lack of a new one? I think yes. :) I did have time to write a poem, though! There was much rejoicing! 

Unto my eyes and to my heart
A word of wisdom I must impart:
Life is not a perfect sea,
Not tossed about by storm or breeze.
It is a tempest, raging at best,
Pushing, driving, unto its death.

That hazy vision of glass, depart!
Do not darken the hopes of my heart.
Frail and thin your argument lies--
Though sought after by human eyes!
I wish your visage would shatter and see,
You are not all you are cracked up to be.

So I’ll stay in my rags and not glance upon
Your lies of a life lived fast and strong.
Perfection does not your beauty make,
But chaos is my life to take.
So here I’ll live so quietly,
Content and oh so happy to be
The sole desire of my Savior’s eyes.
In His grace is no man despised. 

xo,

Katy

Listen to--> Hey Jude- The Beatles

moving and sinus infections

I am no longer a Missouri resident. It's very bittersweet. As a child, my family visited Nashville often. I fell in love with this city at a young age. A huge part of my heart has always belonged here. However, as cliche as it sounds, you can take the girl out of the Ozarks, but you can't take the Ozarks out of the girl. Rolling landscapes, afternoons spent at the cabin, and trips to Silver Dollar City will all be sorely missed. I've traded a rugged, expansive landscape for city lights and concrete towers. Grass for pavement; a starry nighttime sky for an overcast one, illuminated by the lives of a million. Part of me longs for the solitude of the country, but my heart is happy here.

My dad has a nice apartment in a less-busy part of town. For being in the city, it's pretty peaceful out here. Much different than the hectic part of town my college is in. I'll still be living in the dorm, but it's nice to be "home" right now, even if home is still packed in boxes, even if I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight.

In other news, I have the worst sinus infection I have ever had. I've been a baby about it all week, to be honest. It feels more like the flu than anything. You know that pressure you get in your face with a normal sinus infection? Multiply that by 12, add in a headache, multiple toothaches, a jawache, and some crazy congestion and fatigue and you have me right now. I finally found a cold medicine I can take with my thyroid condition, though! Thank goodness I don't have to tough it out now. I'm going to sleep away the weekend so I can be good and ready to go on Monday. I had to miss quite a bit of class this past week, and I hate it. I never miss class. One professor was so concerned that I wasn't there that she emailed me to make sure I was okay. Yeah. 

Your picture once hung on my wall.

Now it’s under my bed, I let it fall.

Do you think I really cared at all?

After those weeks of unanswered calls?

The sticky tack is the only reminder.

I don’t take it down, though it would be kinder

To my heart and to my eyes

But this shouldn’t come as a surprise.

You don’t hold a soul, nor do I.

But this is not occasion to cry.

You have your dreams and I have mine.

And honestly? I’ll be just fine.

Well, I'm off to sleep.

xo,

Katy

two of fifty two: poems and pictures

Miles, like flowers, wither away.

Each step brings me closer

To your smiling face.

Tomorrow I'll see you,

Today I will wait

Here in the silence

For your warm embrace.

So come in your car,

And I'll walk down the street.

My pace will match 

Your pounding heartbeat.

This distance is hard,

To that I'll admit.

I often wish to talk and sit.

But someday will come

When we're together at last.

You'll hold my hand,

And we'll laugh at the past.

 

Part two of fifty two, poems and pictures. 

I get to see my boyfriend tomorrow, hence the sappy poem. :) This photo was actually taken a few weeks ago, but I've had no time to do anything creative this week, thanks to school. Besides, I absolutely love that picture. So it gets to be photo numbero dos. :)

Well, I'm going to eat some Ramen and go to bed. 

xo,

Katy

bare trees

Bare trees:

stripped, naked, cold.

Most despise you.

"What good is a bare tree?"

They say,

Not knowing that you hear them.

You lift your sturdy arms in despair.

"Clothe me!" You cry.

The dark, winter sky stretches out around you

Like a blanket, cold and brooding.

Unlike the evergreens,

Who hold their secrets behind their sharp, green needles,

You are transparent and vulnerable.

Secrets?

You have none.

Your bark is bare for all to see.

Your cry is heard.

Slowly, softly, snow begins to fall

And clothes you in its sparkling presence.

You take comfort in its cold cover,

So you lift your branches with joy.

 -December 16, 2010

There isn't much better than a solitary walk through the woods, camera in hand.

xo,
Katy

Please Cut to the Chase

Sometimes, I write really depressing things. But if writing does not convey emotion, it does not serve a purpose. Therefore, I write my emotions: whether they be sad, happy, thankful, or, in this case, distressed. 

I was having a tough night. This was written a few days after, but the emotion was still there. 

Please don't think I'm a mopey, pessimistic individual. (Although I am a pessimist at heart...)

This is just how I felt. Many things are implied, but please, do not make inferences.

I almost did it,
The truth is there.
You did not see
Nor did you hear
My life nearly leave
This precious soil
But here I am
Caught up in toil.

Strife and grief
Are my best friends
They hold my hand
They’ve seen me sin.
If she were here
All would be well
If he was well
I could breathe again

If I could breathe
You wouldn’t leave.

But I can’t.

And I won’t stay by
And let you watch me
Cry and cry.
These wounds won’t heal
These scars remain
A reminder of
All my past pain
I hate myself
For what I’ve done
To you and me.
And all I’ve won
Is shame and regret.
My face turned away,
My needs unmet.
I am not beautiful
I cry.
I am ugly

And not just on the outside.

My pillow wet
With a thousand tears
My mind is blank
I’ve struggled for years.
Words carefully chosen
Escape from my lips
“The Lord is my Shepherd.”
A cry, not a quip.
I repeat to myself
Over and over
Your promises there
Between those worn covers.

Not worn by me
But by her and her love
I know she is watching
Down from above.
You and her are who I please
As I lay here with shaking knees.
Terrified, I put it away.
I will live to see
Another day. 

Picture: unrelated.

Oceans

 I realize that the following poem is going to sound terribly depressing. But what good is poetry if it doesn't express how you are truly feeling? No facades, no masks, just words. I've been dealing with a lot lately. I can't say much more than I'm scared. So I'll let this poorly written poetry suffice for an explanation.

Standing on the brink:
Will I float or will I sink?
This fear is overwhelming me
I merely float upon this sea.

I cling to my fears
And I let go of my hopes.
This is folly at best; my heart
Is beating out of my chest.

The waves crash over
My head and my heart.
I should have taken
Your hand from the start.

You throw out the raft.
I shouldn't have jumped
Off of the edge of my heart
In to this slump.

Wrap a rope
Around my fears;
Strangle them,
Bring them to tears.

I do not want this despair I feel
Love? Hope? This fear is more real
To my shaking hands and my stone cold heart.
Could you wake me up? Pry me apart?

I cannot face this alone
Oh God, hold my hand
Don't let me be stone!

Apathy is worse
Than dying alone.