The Music In My Bones

It’s the twirling and the twisting

And the spin, the dip, the whirl

The flying of my feet

And the beauty in the beat

.

It’s the music in my bones

And pounding in my chest

The laughter from my lips

And swinging in my hips

.

It’s the smoothness of the steps

The feeling of the frolic

It’s the hand upon my waist

And the smile upon your face

.

It’s the very need to dance

The knowledge of the steps

It’s being unrestrained

Exhilaration that’s unfeigned

.

It’s the sweat that’s in the movement

And the feel of hand in hand

It’s the flight, the fight, the fall

The splendor of it all

.

It’s the rush of being held

The rush of my own feet

It’s the beauty in the action

The following chain reaction

.

It’s the tune that’s in my soul

And the steps that match

It’s the very dance that embraces

And the whirl of all the faces

.

It’s the twirling and the twisting

And the spin, the dip, the whirl

The flying of my feet

And the beauty in the beat

 

Many of my closest friends know that I have a thing for guys who can two step. I love it. For somebody to be able to grab you, go through the motions, dip and spin you around till you’re dizzy, for me, it is so much fun. What more do you want that a guy who can dance? I mean, half the time I’m busy singing the country music we’re dancing to, and then laughing when they can spin me around, and around and around. I love it.

I bring this up because over the past couple weeks, I’ve been able to get out and dance – and not the clubbing type ‘dance’ either. True, down to earth, spin, dance dip, two stepping. There’s something about it that just drives me crazy in the best of ways.

I mean, I had so much fun a couple weekends ago at a uni party. A country song came on, and so me and this guy two stepped. When it turned into top 40 again, and people began grinding instead of true dancing, he only smiled, and asked if I waned to to two step again. “To this?” I asked. “It’s top 40!” He only laughed and said “We’ll make it country.” And sure enough, to the surprise and astounded looks, we two stepped. And it was great.

So that’s what that is about. Hope you all get to have a little fun this weekend, and get that freedom and fun that comes with the feeling of the dance.

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The Dark Man and His Deathly Steed

The dark man and his deathly steed

Feasted upon man with greed

Taking lives and taking tool

Taking man where they did not wish to go

.

He stole at war, he stole on blades

He stole through a thick bloody haze

With his grey cape flapping fast

He stole the future, left the past

.

He plundered on murder, he plundered on doubt

He took the young and old, the thin and stout

And he loved the sick, he loved the ill

So he took those with no hearty will

.

The dark man and his deathly steed

Feasted on plague and times of need

When people were poor and sick and slender

In their slumber they would surrender

.

To the deathly horse’s iron hooves

Centuries of blood within their grooves

Where he trampled upon the light of life

And took away the human might

.

For everyday they trample fast

When they steal the future, leave the past

And they steal the starlight, they steal the sun

They steal life’s pleasures, with death begun

.

For the dark man and his horse of death

Pride themselves on living theft

Of stealing life, of stealing light

Of stealing friends, the son, the wife

.

A little dark, I know, but what’s darker than Halloween? And yes, I consider this a more Halloween poem, considering Halloween was two days ago. Pity that it wasn’t a Friday, but what can you do?

Anyways, this poem/horror story/creeptastic fiction was written a while ago. Like, six months ago. However, I thought, in absence of a light-hearted poem  full of stars and skies and nature and love, I would throw a wee bit of a curve ball at you. So. I hope you enjoy it, even if it is a little twisted.

Dream.

When you fall asleep

When you close your eyes

Do you dream of me?

And of sunset skies?

.

Or do you dream of roses?

Their petals soft and sweet

In their beauty, powerful

But their thorns that cheat?

.

Or are your dreams of stars?

The Milky Way and Orion’s belt

The inky sky, black as pitch

Each star glowing, each one felt?

.

Better, do you dream of song?

Of distant harmony?

The song weaving through your soul

Creating a sweet agony?

.

Or are your dreams of spring?

The sweetness of reawakening?

The sun kissed grass, the azure sky

The world from winter, awakening?

.

Or do you dream of love?

The chase, the fight, the fall?

And when you do, who do you find?

Is it my name that you call?

.

And when you fall asleep

When you close your eyes

Do you dream of me?

And of sunset skies?

.

I wrote this when I was supposed to be doing homework, but, alas, I’m easily distracted, especially when I haven’t written anything creative in a while.

I will admit, that I was also listening to a select mood of music when I did, and suddenly, knew I needed to write something, anything. And this is what I ended up with. Not bad for almost spraying words onto the page.

As for what I was listening to…Ed Sheeran’s Give Me Love, Dustin Lynch’s Hurricane, and Kip Moore’s Hey Pretty Girl.

On that same note, I love how music can change our moods, our lives, and inspire us. I’ll give an example; There is this one composition by Hans Zimmer. It gives me chills. Everytime. I hear it, and I literally stop everything, just to enjoy it.

And that’s what I love about music. That it has that ability to give us those chills, to speak for us, to tell a story. Even it it doesn’t have words. Which is why I love soundtrack music. Sure, it was meant initially to accent a movie. But if you listen to it enough, it becomes something different. You know all the parts of the song; so much so, that you can hum along with it. And when you watch that movie, the music seems out of place, because you know it so well.

At the same time, I love music, because the words (even instrumental music has it’s own words, in a way) can speak so personally to us. And that’s poetic.

Was this aside a little off topic? Perhaps. But it’s all connected, in one way or another.

Starlight

Into the stars, shall I run

No longer a thought for the sun

The starlight is soft, the starlight is easy

And it kisses my shoulders

Leaving me dizzy

 .

Across the skies, shall I race

The night sky’s heaven, is my grace

The starlight forgives, the starlight forgets

It knows who I am

And knows no regrets

 .

Far from the moon, shall I fly

With the hope I’ll never die

The starlight is gentle, the starlight is tame

For on my shoulders

Is nothing like blame

.

Beyond my dreams, shall I chase

Stars as a net, just in case

The starlight is bracing, the starlight is steady

So far shall I sail

Never unsteady

 .

Unto my schemes, shall I soar

Dreams as loud as lion’s roar

The starlight is beauty, the starlight is strong

It knows my own life

It knows my own song

.

Until the stars die, shall I dash

Until my world is naught but ash

The starlight is heaven, the starlight is hell

I burn and I yearn

To be under it’s spell

.

Have you ever had a time, when you found a perfect moment? Where you could barley breathe in the awe and the beauty of it? Where you felt infinite? Where you felt strong?


They’re rare, for sure. But when you experience them, it just feels like nothing else in this world.

I’ve had the fortune to have a few of these moments. The one that this particular poem is modeled after is when there were a bunch of us, sitting around the fire, looking at the clearest patch of night sky I have ever seen in my life. Billions upon billions of stars, just scattered across the sky, twinkling and dancing. It was a moment that seared into my mind.

Not only, in that moment, did it feel crazy, and amazing, but it also made me realize that there are millions of reasons that I could – or couldn’t – be here. And to look into that night sky, it was like looking into something inexplicable. And I loved it.

With Your Eyes, A Smile

Kiss me with your eyes

And love me with your smile

Let me know what I

Haven’t known in quite a while

.

Let me feel the freedom

That comes with your soft gaze

To wander in each other’s eyes

And roam for all my days

 .

Kiss me a sweet question

Let it tingle down my spine

A thousand answers on my lips

All ways to call you mine

 .

Let me feel the power

That lives in your silk touch

Knowing that I have you

Feels like it’s so much

.

Awake me from this dream

Awake me from this wish

Wake me with nothing else

But the knowledge of this bliss

.

Alright, so it’s short and sweet today. Mostly, because I’m so busy between coaching and school, but also, because the majority of my poems tend to be long and drawn out. It’s really just who I am as a writer in general; even when I was younger, my stories and essays would be way longer than what was asked.

And, why a love poem this week? Well, I’ve left you some pretty serious poems the past couple weeks, so I thought I would lighten things up a bit.

And, okay, fine. I like love poems. I don’t care if I’ve never been in love, let alone ever had a boyfriend. We all want that special someone; the one who sweeps us off our feet, makes us laugh, smile, cry. So here’s to wishing on stars, that someday that special someone will find me. And, preferably, appreciate instead of scoff at my romantic notions and poetry.

For One More Night

 Set me free

For one more night

Where I can taste

The bliss of flight

 .

And feel my wings

Upon my back

Before I have to

Give them back

 .

Before I return

Unto the night

A life of slumber

Without sight

 .

To wait within

My gilded cage

To live forever

And never age

 .

To live in heartache

In freedom’s want

The cage of gold

I’ll forever haunt

 .

So tonight I’ll fly

And soar and hope

That I’ll learn

Of how to cope

 .

And while I fly

I’ll remember this

The taste of heaven

And starlight’s kiss

 .

So set me free

For one more night

Where I can taste

The bliss of flight

.

I don’t know where this poem came from. I don’t know why it speaks to me, when I’m the one who wrote it. And I certainly don’t know why I felt sad when I wrote it.

It’s funny, how, sometimes, the words just appear on the page for what seems like no reason. Like your just a tool for your own imagination. It’s a weird feeling.

Perhaps I’ll just sit down to write freely more often…

Breathless

The ocean blue

And its whispering hue

Has always sang to me

.

A song to hope for

To long for more

Within it’s beauty bold

.

For in its thralls

It calls and calls

To come to it, to live

.

To love its power

To accept its shower

Of salt and spray and sea

.

For to touch the sea

 Is to become free

And let my soul take flight

.

To accept power and might

To conquer my fright

Of things this bold and daring

.

For the rumble, the roar

Is what I live for

In its terror, there is love

.

For the silky caress

Makes me confess

My love of this ocean blue

.

Okay, okay, so a couple of things to say.

Firstly, I apologize for the long break I took from here…though I have several valid excuses. Of course, the first being my break in Hawaii (which was awesome, lovely, and a heck of a lot of fun), the second being my laptop deciding to go kaput (I now write this on a shiny new MacBook. I know, fancy.) and thirdly, I was going through major, major writers block.

Not to worry, however! I’m back, and I’ll do my best to be sharing my poetry and picture quotes every Thursday/Friday, as per usual.

Moving on.

While in Hawaii, I noticed something that I’ve noticed before, when in California, Vancouver, etc. I love the ocean. I find it daring and bold and beautiful. There’s a peace to it, but also a strange power about it. And I really enjoy being by it, listening to that great and terrible beauty that is the sea. It  didn’t hurt either, that in Hawaii, the ocean is a heck of a lot warmer than in Vancouver. It has a silky, warm quality that you don’t find anywhere else.

I think that part of it could come from the fact that I was born by the sea. I lived in Surrey until I was two. So maybe its just a psychological thing…or maybe I’m just crazy. Either way, I love the sea. Almost as much as I love the prairies.

And with that, adieu.

Hope

It’s the budding of the flower

The spreading of the wings

The spark that creates a flame

The way the caged bird sings

.

It’s the smile of a stranger

The promise of a friend

The smile of someone loving

The person on the mend

.

It’s when the world is dying

And there’s little left to save

That everything looks different

The light at the end of the cave

.

And when that day comes

Everything will bloom

The world will turn once more

And never meet our doom

.

It’s just a short poem for today…a happier one, to offset the last one. Sadly, I haven’t been too creative in the past couple days, so I don’t have anything truly exciting to post. However, I will say, that now that it is summer, I feel more light hearted, more awake, than I have the past couple months. And, oh my goodness, I’ve been able to sit down and read. Holy mother of ducks. I now have run out of the books I was lent…already. Oops.

And, on that note, I’m going to have to find some more. My parents announced a couple days ago that they are taking us to Hawaii for two weeks, and I’m so excited. So, hopefully, I’ll come back from there inspired, rested, and with a good tan. That’s not for another 20 days yet, so I will keep posting until that day, and then, I guess, have a two week hiatus from here. 

Anyways, hoping your enjoying your summer so far.

Where The Angels Sing

The rain is falling down

The sky is grey and bleak

Everywhere is silent

A cheerless, lonely town

.

Like ghosts along the pier

Like phantoms in the night

We can only cry and wait

For our ending to come near

.

No place for us to run

No place for us to hide

We can only hold each other

As history is spun

.

As we see our town in ashes

The baker’s store, the willow

The cobbled streets, a better time

That comes to me in flashes

.

And it includes a young man, grinning

A man that I have loved

With sparkling eyes and barking laugh

A way that made him winning

.

And when days were good we’d meet

In a summer valley

With dewy tress and singing creek

The only place I was complete

.

It was there that he first kissed me

It was there that he proposed

It was there that our hearts came together

And helped us both to see

.

It was out there in that glen

When war’s whispers finally came

We’d hear about it; its bloody trail

Every now and then

.

And he and I, we waited

For what we knew would come

The draft, the uniform, the soldier’s gear

The fight that we both hated

.

And when we said goodbye

In a lingering kiss

He whispered a sweet promise

And I could only cry

.

And so I watched him go

In a uniform we both loathed

But we knew, our time would come

My lover, my beau

.

But not long after he had left

New lines of war were drawn

And our lovely, carefree town

Suddenly, was bereft

.

For the enemy soldiers came

Took over our poor town

Used it as a battleground

And used us in their game

.

And like pawns, we were used

To help them win their war

A disposable town, pathetic people

A resource to be abused

.

So with optimism we responded

Hoping it would help

Hoping that our boys and men

Would receive what we corresponded

.

But nobody came to help

The battle lines drawn clear

The soldiers were here, here to stay

And they treated us like whelps

.

They used us as their servants

They abused us their leisure

Made us treat their wounds

Let nothing but observance

.

And anyone who disobeyed

Suddenly disappeared

As we became their slaves, their whores

Every whim to be obeyed

.

So when the gunshots rang

And the front lines started closer

We wondered if our men could return

As the bullets and shout all sang

.

And these soldiers were suddenly smart

When they looked at our old town

As they realized just what they could do

Se we could become a part

.

And now we play a part, in this wicked war

We became hostages of these men

Suddenly fine pieces

Better than before

.

We were given a warning

‘Be good to us’, they said

And now that we’ve been good

We’ve see the dawn of morning

.

And with the dawn came fire

As they burned down our poor town

They let the rain sting our faces

While they built our unmarked pyre

.

So now there’s little left

Of this place that we called home

Where children played, where people laughed

Our hearts torn with the theft

.

And now, while we wait

All sentenced to our death

I can only think of him

And what happened to our fate

.

Where a white dress waited

And a violin would play

Where a kiss would seal our hearts

A hope now desecrated

.

The barn where we once danced

Will now become our tomb

As these monsters light the fire

I think of his romance

.

And thus, I whisper my goodbye

I whisper ‘I love you’

And as I find my happy place

I let out a sweet sigh

.

And focus on the better times

Focus on the love

Focus on that valley

Where pain was once a crime

.

And as I twist the diamond ring

And think of his sweet promise

I can only hope that one day we’ll meet again

Up where the angels sing

 

 

Okay, so I know this isn’t my usual type of poem. Very dramatic, very dreary, very drastic. In truth, though, I wrote this months ago, and it sat on my computer because I was worried about putting such a touchy poem up.

Then I watched The Boy In The Striped Pajamas. Suddenly, that very dramatic, dreary, drastic movie helped give me confidence in this poem, and it’s story.

I will be the first to admit that the atrocities of World War Two are very, very interesting to me. Not in a morbid way, but in the mere astonishment of what people will do to others. From the Nanking Massacre in 1937-1938, the Oradour-sur-Glane Massacre in 1944, and, of course, the murder of six million Jewish people, along with the masses of the mentally disabled, Romanian, gypsy, homosexual and other cultures killed in work camps throughout Europe. This also includes the horrors of what the Nazi party did under the orders of Hitler, including the twisted Josef Mengele who preformed brutal experiments on children.

However, there was also some light in that dark time. Viktor Frankl is one of my favorite psychologists; I find him to be an uplifting and highly intelligent man; a psychologist that was more human than say, some of the psychologists such as Freud andSkinner.

The horrors of war are awful, and many of them leave scars on many of us. However, there have been many, many other awful wars and massacres even recently. The Rwandan Genocide in 1994, The Srebrenica Massacre in 1995, and some massacres and genocides as recent as 2001. Hate still is in our world, and apparently, we don’t learn from our mistakes.

I guess what I’m trying to say here, is although I wrote this poem with one of the World Wars in mind, it honestly, could be any country at war, any place that has brutality. World War Two was hardly the end of such atrocities such as the concentration camps. All we can truly do is learn from our history, and not doom ourselves to repeat it.

Believe me when I say that I am not usually so ardent in my ideas of peace. But by doing two projects (Nanking and a all-too-short bit on the holocaust, here and here) and yet still reading about some of the awful things that go on in our world can make me a little upset.

So, there’s your summer history lesson for the day. I’ll be more light hearted later, but perhaps, sometimes, its good to introduce something for people to think about. Don’t think poorly of me for it.

Fly, Fly, Firefly

Fly, fly, you fireflies

Wrapped in your star disguise

As you flicker and glow

As wishes we throw

As kisses we blow

Fly, fly, you fireflies

 .

Fly, fly, you fireflies

Dance in your rush

A twinkling hush

Get me to whisper and blush

In a night so lush

Fly, fly, you fireflies

 .

Fly, fly, you fireflies

Light the sparkles in my eyes

Light the flame

Start the game

Whisper my name

Fly, fly you fireflies

 .

Fly, fly, you fireflies

This heated night

Take your flight

This place alight

A glittering kite

Fly, fly, you fireflies

 .

Fly, fly, you fireflies

In your star-lit disguise

Give me a final kiss

With nothing amiss

Leave me in bliss

Fly, fly, you fireflies

.

Do you ever have those moments that you forever remember? Like they’ve been etched into your head and your memory for forevermore, and just a word can bring back a time, a moment, that you can recall with such vividness that it hardly seems a memory?

I remember the first time I saw a firefly. Because, here in Alberta, they’re rare to see, especially cooped up in the city. We were on the beach in Manitoba, the beach fire blazing, the stars in the sky glowing, and the water lapping at the beach. It was a calm moment, coupled with laughter and smiles from the family. Then the fireflies came out…

And we chased them and danced and sang, running up and down the beach like madmen, but in such utter joy that I’m sure we could have lit a room. And when we calmed down, we sat on the logs ’round the fire, and tried to count them, mixing up stars with fireflies.  Listening to the crackle of the flames, the smell of the beach, the white sand, the glow. 

It’s a moment that I will forever remember. It’s a memory that I can’t forget. And I love that. At the same time, I also wish I could be that carefree again. To live out this summer like that night where we chased a million fireflies, and danced like nobody was watching. I want to make sure that this summer is one I remember. Where it becomes one of those memories. And I can’t wait.