Night: My Mistress

Come to me,
she beckons
effervescently.

Let my wild, dark curves
lead you in
- silently, longingly.

While my bright white
fluorescent lights blind
you into submission.

Come to me,
dancing wildly,
bobbing and weaving

this way - now that.
Just one more drink,
I’ll guide you home

under a blanket of gentle
stars with ruthless clouds
as pillows for your weary head.

Electric Pink

Crepe drapes of sunshine
fall about my legs,
and they worship me.

A vast expanse,
a golden ring,
a heartfelt “I love you.”

He promised me
- he promised me
He wouldn’t fall so
f

a
s
t.

A Test In Reality

I catch shooting stars with my tongue
as I tolerate the blue balloon
drifting farther from my grasp,
teasing with elusive dreams.

The hen that follows after me
refuses to speak truth
despite my lame-laced attempts
to teach it.

I’ve succeeded in powdering my nose
nearing five and some-half times
with the ax that weighs
shamelessly at my side.

The bright red foxes squirming
in my quart berry basket
peer holes in me with their
coal-black eyes

silently questioning
as I casually make a meal of
the silver bullets in my
lint-strewn pockets.

This fire that I breathe
suffocates me slowly
while I struggle to thread this tail
through a slit in my corduroy pants.


*Another of my assignments from last semester...if you're really interested in how I came to this, feel free to ask.

She Is:

wrapped in a night blue sky,
swathed in the colors of the ripest plums.

Velvet chestnut drapes
glint in the sun -
grace upon her shoulders.

Miniature metallic hula hoops
dangle from ears hidden away,
as safety creeps about her neck.

Her shoes: as slightly scuffed as
the miles of ground they’ve
softly stepped upon.

While tendrils of anemones reach skyward
from ponds of skin
on a sea of denim.


*This was an assignment from a Creative Writing class I took last semester. I had to describe one of my classmates. I left her name out of this draft.

Spring Twilight

Sleek silver swans of summer
slide slowly downwards
gracing emerald swords:

peacefully,
quietly,
playfully.

Onwards they glide,
tracing crimson scars
amongst the concrete jungle.

Finding no serene silent paradise,
these phosphorescent, luminescent
gods of wonder travel on.

Castaway

I wash ashore
pulled down
in waves.
Dripping deliciously
soaked words
like foam from
sea-swept lips.

Fingers and limbs
like anemone tendrils,
grasping sand that only
falls through empty
spaces like pearls.

I'm Back...And I Brought Sexy With Me

Hello all!

I'm back. For the most part. I don't really have anything new to put up at the moment. But I was really missing this. And thought I should give a little update.

So, I submitted four of my poems to isabella magazine. *fingers crossed* Phil, thanks a lot for the suggestions. I took two of yours, and two others I'm partial to. I really appreciate your input. Honestly. So I ended up submitting these four:

Silence
What A Waste
Fight Against Me
Beautiful Suburbia: A True American Lie

I've got another deadline coming up in November...hopefully I'll actually be able to do more work on revision and such before that one. And I'll be submitting different works than these four, so who knows!

I'll put new (or old, depending on what I can find) stuff up as soon as it becomes available!


Thanks as always,
Caitlin

Hiatus

So, sometimes those PostSecrets just seem to speak to you. This one speaks to me. A lot. As in, I could have written it. I've been having an extremely hard time lately, and it's been affecting my writing. I haven't much felt like writing, and when I do, my heart's just not in it.

So I'm working on fixing myself, and then I'll work on writing.

In the meantime, feel free to pick apart my old writings. In all hopes, I'll be back as soon as I can be.

Stranded

Adrift in a
sea of eternal
chaos I float,
quiet and still.

While wearily
watching the
world slip by,
helpless to stop it.

I've reached for
a thousand hands
if I've reached
for just one.

And somehow
yours was the
one I caught
to pull me out.

Now the world
spins a little
slower, a bit
less recklessly.

Help, please!

I have a favor to ask [challenge to issue] of you guys [my lovely readers].

I'm going to finally get off of my ass and submit some of my work to a few on-campus literary magazines. So you're probably thinking, 'Ok, good for you. What do I have to do with that?'

I have a little problem. I have an extremely difficult time 'picking favorites' while looking back on my work. So I'm wondering, what do you guys particularly enjoy and/or think I could work on and submit? Please feel free to give me multiple works, as I am allowed to submit anywhere between four and seven poems to each publication. The first deadline coming up is October 5th, which is relatively soon. The other two deadlines fall in early November. I'm pretty stoked about this.

I would really appreciate any suggestions! Thank you very very much!

Perfect Punctuation

Life, I believe
is no
parentheses.

The punctuation
between our
forms is sparse
and brief

As fingers
caress semicolons
and lips feign
quotation marks.

To hell with
unsuspecting periods.

I want you
to be the
exclamation point
at the end of my
paragraph.

Life, I believe
is no
parentheses.

Some Thanks Are In Order...

So. Something that's not poetry. Hope I'm not throwing anyone off too much.

As the title of this post implies, some thanks are in order. Also a bit late in coming, I think. This is mainly due to the fact that my main hobby lately seems to be procrastination.

There are three gentlemen I'd like to thank. Because there's a possibility they may be the only ones reading this, and if so, that's fine. At least I know someone's out there. So Ken, Phil, and Keir, thank you very much. Phil and Keir, especially, for the recent (and not-so-recent) compliments in your own blogs. I really appreciate it. And Ken, of course, for telling me that you like (nearly) every one of my poems. Again, it's quite appreciated.

And, I'd like to return the favor. Sincerely, of course.

To anyone else floating about out there in cyberspace, you should definitely check out both Phil and Keir's blogs. Most certainly worthwhile, they are.

Phil's: Reverse Entropy
Keir's: disTaupia

Happy reading!

On another note, I think I may start using this blog as a forum for more than just my poetry for a bit. Namely, more random posts such as this. Who knows. I often have a habit of saying things and not following through. New Year's Resolution, anyone?

So that is all for now, I believe. Let me know what you think. And newcomers: comments are always welcome, thank you!

Signing off,
Caitlin

P.S. Currently loathing: Windows Vista

What A Waste

A punch
to the stomach
A kick to
the face
was all you
ever gave.

Your 'contribution'
to this house
a mess of
spilled vocabulary
your mother
would die to hear.

No, but tell me
that you love me
quickly before the
click. I'll try
to listen without
laughing.

Your definition
of love is
quite skewed
and rarely
near the mark
of anything sincere.

If you've given
me anything
worth keeping it's
the hardened heart
that scoffs at
everything you are.

Untitled

Dear, lately
it seems to me
that we're really
different people.

You've been
living on the edge,
while I prefer
to live.

Love Evolves

Kiss me
like it's your
first time and
I'm that shy girl
you once feared.

Hold my hand
and whisper
your fears into me,
while fearing
what we've become.

Walk with me
at night, your
feet shuffling,
breath in clouds
deafening silence.

Look at me,
and see that
I'm still here,
begging you
to love me.

Hold me closer,
attempt to accept
you've tripped
and you're falling
into me quickly.

Lay with me
and free those
words you've
been poorly hiding.
Love me.

Kiss me again,
like you love me,
like you breathe me,
like I'm the last girl
on this earth.

Untitled

My rock
you are my
life-preserver,
my rescue from
our storm.

I beg of you,
be strong,
and yet
reveal to me
your cracks.

If what I
say confuses
or calls to be
misread, listen
once again.

In you I've
stored myself
and locked
away
my heart.

Protect it
for me, dear.
But please,
not
from me.

Some Food for Thought...

Instructions for Life:

1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

2. When you lose, don't lose the lesson.

3. Follow the three R's: Respect for self, Respect for others, and Responsibility for your actions.

4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.

5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.

6. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.

7. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

8. Spend some time alone every day.

9. Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values.

10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll be able to enjoy it a second time.

12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.

13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don't bring up the past.

14. Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.

15. Be gentle with the earth.

16. Once a year, go someplace you've never been before.

17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.

18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.

19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.

~Dalai Lama

Lover's Night

Sleep, a dream
I chase
elusive as
the stars
above us.

Hold me
rock me
by the
rhythm of
the moon.

Sing me
the song
of tonight
save tomorrow
for dreamers
and poets.

Tonight,
this night,
is for
lovers,
so take me
to sleep.

Grasp
my form
between
your's and
the wall.

Take me
and learn
my geography.
Explore me,
know me.

I can
go without
sleep,
but without
you never.

Dear Father

Funny how
words are a
dangerous thing.
They slice you
while splicing
your heartstrings in two.

Funny how
father's a
subjective term.
The love you
and hate you
and make you their toy.

Words were always
your weapon,
leaving less
marks while
tearing my insides
to ribbon-thin shreds.

You took them
and hurled them
word after word
at my horrified ears
as I stood by
and took them, defenseless.

Funny how
I've let you win
and done nothing to stop it.
I loved you,
and hated you,
and pushed you away.

Funny how
words - now
my weapon of choice.
Only difference is,
I've chosen paper
as my whipping post.

Silence

I pour out my
soul, onto your
floor, and all
I receive is
silence.

I'm met with
blank stares,
gaping eyes,
broken jaw lines,
silence.

I beg you for
help, or some
understanding, and all
I receive is
silence.

You ask me
what's wrong,
how you can help,
and all I return
is your silence.

Fading Twilight

Day's dying breath
collapses into red
hues of orange
drenched canvas.

The death throes
of sun's last attempt
burst into purple
smoky blues.

While earth opens
wide its hungry jaws,
enveloping what's left
of baby powder sky spots.

Shower forth the
night diamonds
and ruby jewels
of another universe.

Paint me a
pretty picture of
connected dots
of blue lemon-drops.

A Broken Apology

"I'm sorry,"
you whispered in
my ear, hoping
no one else would hear.

Sorries are for sinners,
for those repentant
of their crime, you
really should have guessed

that sorry's much
too late for me
I've learned to live
without it.

So pack up your
apologies, and move
along without me.
If you couldn't

mean it then,
why should I
care to listen
to you now?

No Bounds

It's true, what they say:
Love can know no bounds.

My heart, I gave to you
and waved as you had to walk away
knowing you'd return to me
and my love one-hundred fold.

With time, we both shall heal,
though the cold telephone at my ear
is no solace while thinking of
your hot breath upon my neck.

The chill that accompanies me
to bed each and every night
is no comfort while dreaming of
your arms around my waist.

Someday, I know you'll come,
with my heart in your hand and
a smile for each of our faces,
a kiss that I'll never forget.

'Til then, I'll wait for you,
knowing that you've crossed
the bounds that hold my love,
knowing you'll return.

Love Is A Two-Letter Word

Between
you and I,
love is a
two letter word.

Us, you and me
inseparably
inseparable
tied at the hip.

One being,
one soul we
share united
at our core.

This thing
we feel,
it's real.
I breathe it.

I breathe it,
I live it,
I feel it
coursing through my veins.

See with me
what's real,
what's now,
what it is that we share.

Between you and me,
love is a
two letter word:

For Us.

Just For Tonight

Lay me down,
softly in the moonlight
we'll whisper our souls
into each other's mouths.

I can feel your heart beat,
steady in my chest
while butterfly kisses
caress your pale warm cheek.

Share with me, everything
you've been hiding in those eyes.
Take from me my cares
and all my inhibitions.

Lay me down,
and hold me in your branches.
Count my single petal;
I'll give you what I have.

Fight Against Me

Fingertips trace
the scent of yesterday
around my ruby lips.

While shards of heaven
glisten through
your dirty windowpanes.

We've built our own
heaven, a home
for two hearts

-intertwined among
the love we
fought against.

Yet fell crashing
gasping for air
pulled under the tides

of each other
-with each other.
Finally giving in.

Throw me a
life preserver, dear.
Save me from myself.

While I'll gladly
get lost in the
sea of your sheets.

Let's spend the day
in this heaven
we've created.

Behind locked doors
and silently screaming walls
your eyes say more

than my lips ever could.
Don't waste your
'I love you's'

on me.
I'll take them tomorrow
when I've cleared my lungs.

Say it all and nothing
saving your goodbyes.
They'd kill me now, you know.

Throw me a
life preserver, dear.
Save me from myself.

Freshman Year

The weekend
but a sigh
a hiccup in the
larger week.

Pretend there
are no rules
no papers due
no Monday exams.

Masquerade as
an adult, while
you hide you inner
child in the closet.

Do things you
wouldn't dare
tell Mom and Dad
of at Sunday dinner.

Wake up Monday
morning, hope to
God he was worth it
pray that you'll forget.

Step one - survive.
Step two - sleepwalk
throughout the week.
Step three - repeat.

Crash

Salt flows freely
down my twisted face.
A toxic lullaby to
fill your wounded head.

My faux pas, again
-not yours. A trial
I've seen and yet
still fail repeatedly.

Even the pretty
things in life fall
in sometimes,
silently, desperately.

I am that trophy wife,
smiling in family photos
while yearning for tomorrow
through a tar-stained soul.

Dial Tone

Disconnect me as
I feel you float away.
Time and space but a
theory, an idea I've
failed to grasp.

I'm alone and yet
you're there, traveling
through the telephone lines
to reach my simple ear.

Mess

I'm a mess
what the hell.

Look at me,
honestly,
sincerely,
with those puppy dog
eyes of yours.

Can't you see what
you're doing to me?

Don't you feel me
crumbling under the
weight of the wounds
on my shoulders?

What the hell.
I'm a mess.

Now I'm yours.

My Separate Way

Those first days
after you told me
"I think we should
go our separate ways,"
were worst.

In finding my bottom,
I felt free to find my top.
A journey you never quite
cared to understand.

I caressed my wounds,
played in my denial
laughed through deprecation
smiled through depression.

All the while,
you were but a
memory, slipped
into the night.

Deaf Ears

It's funny-
no one ever told me
life would be this hard.

Wait, they did?
I hid behind my
books and rhymes
hoping not to hear.

But here I am,
on my own
wishing I'd been told.

Wishing that I'd listened.

My American Dream

Desolation, an American
wasteland. What was once
a home, now nothing but
an empty shell.

This concrete jungle
houses only broken dreams
and wasted tomorrows
hopes for better things.

You've escaped-
run away, some say
with plans for
prettier days and nights.

Those lullabies of
bang, pop
gunshots
get old too fast.

You look a little older,
a little stronger,
a little wiser
around the eyes.

A little like
you know
that running often
gets you nowhere.

With nothing but
a pain in your side
and something to look at
over your shoulder.

True Story*

Seventy pages
of my writings
plus a good twenty
copied pages

I was hoping
to retrieve
after waiting
far too long.

Postage paid,
left forgotten
a harried professor's
careless filing.

Upon retrieval,
I heard those words
no writer
wants to hear:

SHE LOST IT

*This is just me ranting. I'm not looking for any legitimate feedback on the poem itself (if you can call it that) - unless you really want to give it. Commiseration would be nice, though. I could scream.

And then egg a car.

Untitled

Staring through
the looking glass.
Your eyes,
my smile,
glisten in the darkness.
Two minds
intertwined.
Four hands
moving in
the light.

Beautiful Suburbia: A True American Lie

You, with your heads
held high.
You, with your
candy-colored
popped-up collar
dreams.

Are nothing.

Heretofore, so that
whatever you may be
is lip service
smack worship to the
god we call
commercialism.

What can you do?

Nothing.

My Star

Oh pretty dear
you get my star.

You kiss me
and two paper hearts
revolve around the sun.

I'll be here
in the morning,
floating.

Oh pretty dear
I hold it in.

Darkness. Rapture. Blank.

Sorrow never looked so sweet
falling past your smile.

Kindness never looked so vile
flitting past your switchblade.

My God

This differing judgment
the people of earth
simply God reasoning out
All your brains and mine.

reason things, wondering
which is right
waiting for experience
God reasons through your brain.

Through my brain,
the "logic of events"
shall show him
the point of real harmony.

Just don't kick up a muss
because he thinks through my brain.

Your Fallen Angel

Your eyes, they mask the
lies, the hurt and pain
I hid behind them
carelessly trying
to please, to satiate
everything you wanted.

I'm not that girl,
but I was lost
behind everything
I wanted to be.
Nothing I am,
something I seemed.

Until you, driven by
desire, illuminated
my every flaw, revealing
me for what I had become.
Something cheap and tawdry,
no longer quite as clean.

And suddenly, I saw
everything I wasn't
and I burst from the inside.
Wishing that I could
knowing that I couldn't
change what I had done.

I'm your fallen angel
pick me up, help me soar
fix these broken wings.
Shelter me from the
storm we've inadvertantly
created in your sheets.

Hold me close and whisper
'everything's all right'.
Tower over me, shield me
from my wrongs, my
beautiful mistakes.
My sacrifice to you.

Regret, a word I've
long forgotten, creeping
through my brain.
I'll push it aside,
because everything we did
was everything we wanted.

Just nothing we needed.

On My Own Again, Rewrite One

Blood stings hot
rushing through
my pale cheek bones.
You've lost again,
I've won-and yet
I feel no-relish no-
sweet enticing triumph

"What's the matter, dear?"
"Aren't you feeling well?"

Veils of liquid fire
refuse to let me
see quite clearly.
As I stumble
towards the door
my waiting escape.

"You can't run forever, girl."

The door, so close
now begins to fade to black
as searing, slicing hot
lines shoot up my spine.

"You think you've won?"
"You thought you tried?"
You jerk your blade
through my open back.

"You can't run forever, girl."

No, perhaps not quite.

Perhaps I'll try.

Epiphany, Rewrite One

Crack. A rush of wet sound
slicing through-between-
my ears, whistling wild.

I'm drowning from within.
How can I come up for air
when I'm filled to breaking?

Waves pull me under,
stuck within and beneath
that life-giving wind.

Sucking in my rush of elsewhere
a breeze from yesterday
I long to imagine as mine.

Instead, I'm immersed in blue
it fill my lungs, my chest heaves
I struggle for the surface.

I open my eyes and look
to the sky, my breeze
one last fleeting time.

Hoping for anything old
to suddenly become new
and worth breathing-drowning for.

Untitled

My past, my future
two doors on either side.
One I've left, another waiting,
tempting me to call.

The one closed behind me
memories leak through,
tearing at my soul
holding me back, slowing me down.

While the one ahead
uncertainty shines through
risk marks the path
to a lifetime of unknowns.

An inevitable reality
refusing to relent
my only way is forward
I can only gaze behind.

My Wedding Band Meant Nothing

It's so hard
to see transparently
through that
amber-tinted love.

A knowing glance,
a sleight of hand
you quickly hide
that wedding band.

You cad, you wink
and smile my way.
What the hell,
nothing left to lose.

I'll return that smile,
raise you a wink.
Send me a drink,
I'll send you another.

I'll show you some skin,
beckon you closer
push you a way
in a matter of minutes.

On My Own Again

Blood stings hot
rushing through
my bone-white cheeks.

"What's the matter, dear?"
"Aren't you feeling well?"

Veils of liquid fire
refuse to let me
see quite clearly.
As I stumble
for the door
my waiting escape.

"You can't run forever, girl."

No, perhaps not quite.

Perhaps I'll try.

My Heart

You are
my white picket fence
my American Dream.

My worth-fighting
worth-living
worth-breathing
worth-dying for.

The dream I fall into
when I lay me
down to sleep.

My hope that I
may be so blessed
to have my fate
intertwined with yours.

Baby, the stars aligned
to lead me straight to you.

I run to you,
into those arms
I call my home,
providing shelter from the storm.

I see in those
eyes of yours
our future
crystal clear.

When you'll
come home to me
into my arms
you'll call your shelter.

Epiphany

Crack. A rush of wet sound
slicing through - between -
my ears, running wild.

I'm drowning from within.
How can I come up for air
when I'm filled to breaking?

Feet kick dirt, a sight
I'm stuck within and on.
Avoid the beauty that rises above.

Sucking in my rush of elsewhere,
a breeze from yesterday.
Opening my eyes one last time.

Hoping for anything old
to suddenly become new
and worth breathing - drowning for.

Paper Leaves

Two more steps
a door
nothing more.

A shell is all
of what you
used to be.

Black holes, glazed
boring into me.
Running up my frame.

Your laugh could
shatter glass and
crinkle paper leaves.

The grapefruit in
my throat
threatens to escape.

"What is it, dear?"
You sigh, deliciously delighted
for how you've frightened me.

The skyline, through
the broken window
wills me an escape.

My eyes,
but a child's
refusing to be met.

Running now, fleeing
from the hell I've
walked into.

A bird, in flight
knows no simple
devastating sorrows.

My soul, so now
takes wing into
tomorrow.

Ill-Lit Morning

Wrap me softly
with your gently
hand-woven lullaby
of self-doubt, disapproval
and loathing.

Kiss me half asleep
while wishing
prettier things were coming
your way in the
ill-lit morning.

Your hopes and wishes
like kitchen knives
hanging ever above
my precious head
seconds from dropping.

I'll doll myself up
in your ill-lit morning.
Lipstick lines and bobby pins
trace our
broken future.

I'll be all you ever
wanted - nothing more.
So sweetly sincere beneath
my twelve layers of foundation
and false eyelashes.

After all - wasn't a
trophy wife
- a doll -
all you ever wanted
-nothing more?

Vortex

My ribbon of crimson
a vortex
falling away into
the black hole that
stains the porcelain.

As drops of light fall
onto sun-kissed tresses,
I peel
these eyes, my mask
away for one last time.

My world begins to fade
too soon, too quick
too real.
Falling away, I
remember the crimson

Hands and knees
cupped palms like bowls
scrambling, begging
to become one with
my crimson again.