You have left stain
Upon stain
Upon me
Across the surface of my body
And upon my brain
It’s a wonder my skin
Hasn’t turned red yet.
My front porch – A poem
Whenever my breath feels stale but I need to breathe,
I sit on my front porch (preferably in the early morning
But sometimes afternoon)
Only when it’s sunny
(Usually I have to squint my eyes but I don’t mind)
It cleanses me in a funny sort of way
(Even when it’s loud with endless planes
And cars and caravans
Travelling from the park up the road)
Everything seems quiet
Everything seems calm
The breeze settles a stillness within me
As I sit behind my white picket fence
The world seems at ease
And everyone and everything is just
Living their lonely lives
Everything that’s left
Journal entry: 14/9 | 9:27pm Yesterdays are only mixtures of memories and maybes. Maybe I’d be happier if things had been different. But maybe I wouldn’t be me. I try not to regret. I try not to let all the stories that fill me, consume me. Time is only the rhythmic in and out of…
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Grey skies and no rain – A poem
This is one of my favourite poems in my new book, ‘Messages in Bottles (hoping happiness replies)’. By the way, it’s not actually about grey skies or rain.
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Time spent still – A poem
There is time spent still
And time spent running
You are still
You are quiet
You are in between
You are a breath
You are fresh air and petrichor
You are an escape
Nothing could have been different – A poem
Remember:
Your thoughts aren’t real,
They stir your mind into a swirl
A tornado
With power to turn dreams to ruins
If only you let them
But you have the power to stand as strong
As a deep rooted tree
Withstanding rains
And winds
And storms
That cloak the world in a fog
Transforming it into something
Unrecognisable.
To everyone I’ve ever written about – A poem
To everyone I’ve ever written about…
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To write what I can’t – A poem
My tongue will twist around words
Unable to be spoken,
My voice box choked
By your ineffable beauty.
Your glorious grace,
Not perfect for all
But perfect for me.
Mind of its own – A poem
Sometimes I think
My thoughts
Are also thinking.
Like thoughts inside thoughts.
The life of an ambivert
An ambivert is someone who is neither an introvert nor an extrovert, but somewhere in between. Instead of having a battery that is recharged solely by either social interaction or alone time, it can really depend on the person and the situation. For me, I have more like a double ended battery. I think that’s the best way to describe it.
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Lauren Kathleen 