by Naomi L. | May 16, 2014 | J.C. Wolfe's Writing, Poetry |
I’m so sick.
I’m tired.
Did I fail?
Have I done anything right?
Am I doing anything right?
What do my feelings count for?
Anything?
Are they worthless?
Am I worthless?
No, I’m not.
I hate feeling so lonely.
I don’t talk to anyone.
But I want to.
I miss talking to someone.
I just want to be heard.
Is there any respect for me?
For how I feel?
I feel undermined,
Without value.
I’m afraid.
I’ve brought this on myself
Because I’m afraid.
Afraid of what they will say.
I don’t want their advice sometimes.
I just want someone to listen.
I’ve been reduced to talking to myself.
Because I feel like only I hear me.
Someone please listen.
Please listen.
Please.
I feel so alone.
I’m not like you.
My feelings don’t go away
With just a smile.
They come back,
Even worse,
If left unshared.
They must be set free.
I can’t let go.
I’m not like you.
I can’t let go
Of my sadness
And anger
And fear,
Not by myself.
I have to release them
To the world.
I want to scream,
And break things,
And hurt myself
When I’m left alone too long.
The feelings build up inside me,
And I can’t let them go by myself.
They have nowhere to go,
So they come back.
They need somewhere to go.
So I need to be heard.
I need someone to listen,
And not make me afraid to speak.
Do not undermine me.
Do not belittle my emotions.
Respect me.
They are big to me,
They are important to me.
Listen,
And they will be set free.
And I will be free.
While feeling particularly blue one day, I decided to turn my angst into a writing exercise. I took a pencil and a sheet of paper and just kept writing nonstop until I reached the bottom of the page. This is what came out. The poem is made purely of raw emotion; the only editing I did was to arrange one long paragraph into poetic verses. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
by Naomi L. | March 21, 2014 | J.C. Wolfe's Writing, Poetry |
Standing here within my bedroom,
Looking through the open window,
Staring out onto the street,
I see nothing.
Lying still upon my bed
As the sun recedes outside,
Breathing slowly, my eyes closed,
I hear nothing.
When I walk across my campus,
When I move along the streets,
When I stand at my front door,
I feel nothing.
Why am I here?
It was no fault of mine.
It was no choice of mine.
It was no wish of mine.
And yet, here I am.
In a world where I am blind,
In a world where I am deaf,
In a world where I don’t feel.
I am lost.
But I will be found.
I look out my open window.
To the north, I turn my gaze.
The horizon in the distance
Hides a place of better days.
For beyond the north horizon
Lie the promises of change.
The promise of dreams,
The promise of hope,
The promise of love.
My body is here.
My mind is here.
But my heart wanders elsewhere,
In that land to the north.
My past was not here.
My future is not here.
My life will not be here.
Not here, but in the north.
So come and find me where I lie.
Hear me as I breathe a sigh.
See me as I close my eyes
And very gently start to cry.
Come sit beside me, wipe my tears.
Raise my hopes and drown my fears.
Tell me that you’re here today
So I can smile and hear you say
That you came to take me away.
Yet another old poem I recently dug up. This one was written a few years ago, at a time when I was feeling especially homesick for America. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
I was inspired to share this poem after reading this blog post by Vanessa Levin-Pompetzki. You should totally check out her blog. She’s pretty awesome!
by Naomi L. | October 4, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
When Nadine moved to her new home with her parents in September, the wall was a plain blank white, yet to be touched by the artistic vision of a timid young girl seeking refuge from the world in the creative space of her basement.
In October, a month after starting at her new school, Nadine found she was still having trouble making friends. Shy and in fear of the school year to come, she descended into the basement one afternoon to stroke the wall with a thin paintbrush in little streaks across an array of grays, the palette the other students saw when they looked at her.
In November, Nadine finally engaged in conversation with a few other girls in her homeroom class. Her new hope of friendship found a place on the wall as light brushstroke patterns of daisy yellow.
In December, the cute boy Nadine often admired from a distance approached her after a Math exam. She went home still blushing profusely over Alex’s interest in her, and her wall was later decorated with bubbles of bright carnation pink.
In January, Alex invited Nadine to join him on the floor at the winter dance. Her heart still fluttering as the music echoed in her ears, Nadine twirled before the wall that night while sweeping wide strokes of royal purple over it.
In February, Alex told Nadine that, although she was a nice girl, he wasn’t looking to pursue a relationship. Heartbroken over her shattered hope, she spent that evening crying through her finger-painting of drooping midnight blue waves down the wall.
In March, Nadine saw Alex kissing a cheerleader in the hallway between classes. Though she showed no reaction at school, she stormed into her basement that afternoon to hurl water balloons filled with scarlet red paint at the wall.
In April, Nadine walked past Alex and his new girlfriend holding hands as they made their way to American History. Still she said nothing, but she took time out of that late afternoon to fleck the wall with bright spots of poison green.
In May, the girls with whom Nadine had been slowly forming a friendship spent their lunch break consoling her and reassuring her that Alex was the one missing out on a great relationship. She continued to keep her emotions to herself in school, but her renewed enthusiasm drove her to spend time later that day painting bright orange bands over the gloomier colors on the wall.
In June, Nadine’s friend Amanda knocked on her front door, intent on returning the yearbook carelessly forgotten on the bus. The man who answered the door directed the visitor downstairs, where his daughter was busy channeling her creative energy. It was only when Amanda entered the basement and saw Nadine draped in a paint-stained poncho before a colorful wall that the truth finally came to light: beneath the deceptive palette of grays was a beautiful rainbow.
by Naomi L. | May 17, 2013 | J.C. Wolfe's Writing, Poetry |
Deep in the cavern it sleeps,
Silent as the shadows,
Still as the earth.
And as it lies in rest,
The land is at peace
And all is well.
But at the turn of the moon,
The creature awakens
And chaos reigns once more.
It emerges from its lair,
Eyes gleaming, teeth bared,
And emits a mighty roar
That shakes the earth
And the souls of men alike.
And a fearful whisper sweeps
Across the land,
“Beware the beast…”
Claws unsheathed,
It rampages through the world,
Slashing out at all
Who would cross its path,
Tearing through flesh
And spilling the blood
Of the innocent.
At the slightest provocation,
It rears its great head
And shrieks a piercing cry
That shatters many ears
And fractures many hearts.
It twists its body
To constrict its victims,
Forcing out their breath
Until they’re gasping for air,
Then leaves them broken
In its wake.
Yet when the moon turns away
The creature retreats.
Docile once more,
It succumbs to the control
Of its one true master
And withdraws into its lair
To sleep again.
The master sets about
Repairing the damage,
Healing the wounds
Of the injured
And fixing what the monster
Left broken.
Peace settles on the land,
And all is well again.
But the master never rests,
And stands ever ready,
For as everyone knows,
At the next turn of the moon,
The dragon will rise again.
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