[x]

LonelyI look at the stars
Hoping to see something
Looking back at me.

But its just echoes
Of dead and dying
Suns and worlds.

Nothing's listening,
Nothing's speaking,
Nothing really cares.

There is no design,
No grand plans to
Make the universe spin.

There's only darkness,
Suffocating and cold,
Consuming the light.

the weather latelywhen i tilt my glass up,
dregs of iced tea powder
become an orange starscape,
an eclipse wrought with holes;
summer, beautiful and searing.

ugly hungerI.

the wolf in her
heart is whimpering
like a pup hungry
for pure milk
but all it is given
is blood--thick
and warm in a
foreign way
one that isn't the
love of a mother
or love of any kind.
II.
in the dry shade
lies the beast of eden,
her heavy jaw slack
from gnawing rotten
fruit and he is saying
with sweet, red skin
between his teeth
she was asking for it--
how her thin fingers
wrapped and pulled
and plucked at the forbidden-
ness, this is no confession
he hisses like the snake
in his heart.
III.
we are all victims
says god

On days like thisOn days like this,
I like to think
About just how lucky I am.

How lucky I am
To have food
And a roof over my head.

How lucky I am
To have a beating heart
And air in my lungs.

How I lucky I am
To even have been born.
Imagine...

Out of every sperm and egg,
And every unknown miscarriage,
I survived. We all did.

That in itself is amazing.
Then add on that life itself
Is amazing and wonderful.

How many systems
Must work in tandem
To keep me alive?

If one single DNA strand
Were to replicate wrong
My life would be irreparably damaged.

If my temperature is off
By just the variance between in and out,
I die.

These things astound me.
Every c

ReptileBy design, I survive hiding, quiet;
carnivorous.
I am my fangs, or my claws, or my muscle;
alien from accepted.

Please, do not forget,
my cold blood seeks heat.

The softness of scales surprises the skin
of ignorant fingers.

Lookingwhy do we as human beings
ignore what is placed before us
at our feets
in our hearts

i want to be apart of nature
dissolve into the endless stretch
of baby blue skies
lift off in nimbus clouds

and when i want
gently float back down

LacusSunlight glistens off the top of the lake;
Fish swim beneath the cool, crystal waters,
And the wind chops at the surface,
Breaking, for a moment, the reflection
Of the azure ocean above.

RapeThere is something hideously clever
about watching television outside.
It is possibly the ultimate defiance.

Over there, rebels have flipped off officials,
they have fornicated with machines
and they have worn shirts like flags.

But here, revolutionaries have
ripped the binding dress off of mother earth
they have stuck their thirsty tongues
in the magnetic air of steel and wind
and they have swallowed the sovereign
waters of Calypso.

Gaia could not weep,
because her throat was plugged
by the sharp middle finger
of electric sockets and wires.

The WavesThe waves
Lapping the shore
Endlessly rolling
Merely repetitive motions
That
Unless you do not experience them day after day
Become merely a noise
A background song
To your day
Your life.
The waves
Lapping the shore
Endlessly
As if they are oblivious
To the way they are ignored.

What A Star SeesWhen they look down,
Do they look at me?
A slumbering form beneath sheets?

When they shoot by
Can they see me?
A blurred figure jumping with glee?

When I wish upon them
Do they hear me?
Whispering beneath the trees?

When I dream
Do they watch me?
Can they see what I see?

When I cry at night
Do they weep for me?
As I rock myself to sleep?

When I worry in my bed
Do they comfort me?
Help ease my mind of silly things?

When my eyes won't shut
Do they sing for me?
Lulling me into my dreams?

When they look down,
What do they see?
Insomnia, depression, guilt, glee?
Or this girl of nearly seventeen,
Stressed and tired,
Longing for a dream?

I k

Winter's Daylight, Spring's ShadowThe air still bites as cold as Winter,
The shadows in the sky have yet to fade away.
The trees’ arms, lonely and bare
As Winter morphs into the form of Spring,
But what can we compare?

Light creeps into daylight ever so slowly
It’s pale glow rarely emanating across the sky.
The bay’s breeze is carried in
Raging war against sun rays—
Cold and warmth inseparable everyday.

But whether it’s Spring or Winter
Can we ever tell?

The first of
Spring, the season that shakes Winter off it’s back.

After It RainsWhy is it the leaves always seem greener
after it rains?

Does that mean
after a bad time
comes a great time?
And after a great time
comes a memory?

When it rains
are you crying inside?
When it cries
is God helping you?
When it rains
does it always storm somewhere?

When it sprinkles
will there be ice cream?
When it sprinkles
is the world going tinkle?
When it sprinkles
is there a surprise inside?

When it storms
it seems like the day couldn't get worse
or are you dancing in the rain?
When it storms
are you blowing the clouds away
or are you getting struck by lightning?

When lightning strikes
is someone always hurt
physically or emotionally

Ode to the WindWest to East,
North to South,
From great lands,
From the ocean’s mouth.
Who is this Great Whisperer
Who hums through the trees?
A zephyr wind,
A gentle breeze.

A joker you are,
And a saint, O wind,
To gather the waters
And in clouds send
Rain and snow,
But also dry out
The torrential flooding
And heal the drought.

You play in the fields
And run through the pines,
Playing with leaves,
Laughing all the time.
From the center of the sea,
To the mountain’s height,
You take off once again
On your continuous flight.

No maze you cannot solve,
No space you cannot fill,
Creeping from under the door
And by the window sill,
Never happy to

The Little BirdI used to have a bird

He sat on my shoulder

His songs comforted me day and night

Every time I opened his cage my heart filled with delight

For he was my only company

But then one day he flew out the window

I shouted and called his name

Until the night was gone

Sometimes if I play a song he would come to me

But when he did not come my eyes filled with tears

For I thought he had gone to the place in the sky

At least he was in a good place if he was or was he?

After days of not finding him I gave up and sat with a piece of bread

My eyes were bloodshot from nights of looking

Then I heard something familiar, was it him?

True enough

Morning CallMorning Call
Sudden shower
Lying half-awake in bed
The soft, tender form of my darling touching me
To my delight, the trill of the bugle
The tumult of the rifles
Had been stilled by the rain
The only sound i heard
Through the soft, quiet swish of my fan
Was the soft and silent swish of the late summer rain
I lay in bed to listen
Until 9 AM

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Nature's Awakening.

by ~catalystica, Mar 26, 2012, 5:27:50 AM
Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

sparkling dew drops form
on early-morning leaves.
the crickets still whisper
sweet songs to the winds,
while the Eastern sky takes
solace in the sun's warmth.
white clouds drift along like
pale shadow puppets--
their shapes ever-changing.
hummingbirds dance the day
away, flitting left, then right,
then dipping down to taste
virgin nectar from Spring flowers.
Fawns frolic through fields
of reaching grass and buttercups,
their mothers watching with pride.
all around, Earth renews herself,
restoring beauty to Winter-ravaged land.

Nature's Awakening.by ~catalystica

Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

=MummyWriter Mar 26, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This was lovely! To me, nature is the best inspiration, and this was a fantastic capture.

~catalystica Mar 26, 2012 Hobbyist Photographer

Thank you!
I agree! I'm always inspired by nature. =]

=MummyWriter Mar 26, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Any time!
And yes, probably because it was the first source of inspiration for anything in general!

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Nature's Awakening.by ~catalystica

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