PassionYou look me overPassion4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
And you turn away
You lead my heart
Into silent decay
'Cause you want something beautiful
Want something beautiful
You want something beatiful
So you look away
Well, this I call passion
This I call real
Are you ready to see me?
Are you ready to feel?
But you don't see anything
You don't see anything
No, you don't see anything
'Cause you don't see me
You speak such wise words
But won't believe what I say
Think you've got to hold out
For some brighter day
'Cause you want something real
Want something real
You want something real
But you turn away
And, this I call passion
This I call real
Are you ready to hear me?
Are you ready to feel?
But you don't hear anything
You don't hear anything
No, you don't hear anything
'Cause you don't hear me
I carry this torch
And its burning my hands
Can you see the scars now?
Do you understand?
You think I'm not good enough
Think I'm not good enough
Well, am I not good enough
To carry these scars?
This I call passion
This I call real
White OwlThe white owl opens up her eyes,White Owl4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
sways her vision to the skies;
seeking out a creature's cry,
through the woods' nocturnal sigh.
In the darkness crickets sing,
far beneath the owl's white wing.
Dew drops to the leaves still cling,
sparkling with a lucent sheen.
Senses alert, she prepares for flight,
hearing creatures near their plight,
she spreads her wings into the night
silent as moonlight, and as white.
December RainThrough mist, through my eyes, I see I am blindDecember Rain4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
my soul hath no knowledge, heart hath no sight
through my ears the wind blows, cold as the night
deafening me to the sounds of my mind
The sun, his face shining, mocks me with light
his bright severe finger pointing at me
illuminates things I can't bear to see
nowhere to hide, I am faced with my plight
But rain falls, empathic, drowning my cry
her icy chill numbs me so I cannot
feel memories of a heart so distraught
thus consoling me with tears from the sky
And if the rain cannot drown my sorrow
She will cry with me until the morrow
Copyright 2010 Julia Rain Jeys Wellman. All Rights Reserved.
I Belong to The HurricaneI belong to the hurricane I Belong to The Hurricane3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the screaming, untamed maelstrom that cleaves away puppet strings
and sharpens its teeth on misconceptions.
I belong to the harsh cold winter of an aching truth
one that beats a drum like a heartbeat under the graveyards,
whispering things that our ancestors knew (but we have forgotten).
I belong to the hurricane
yeah, that's the one the same storm that broke my back and scratched at my eyes.
It flayed open my chest and showed me my own diamond bones.
I belong to angels with battle-torn wings and voices raw from howling!
I belong to war
and to the air that sings a dirge for your dying freedoms.
I belong to the stark white walls of an empty room,
in the form of dangerous thoughts breathing in your ear.
I belong to rebellion.
So here, my friend, is to the bullet casings on your floor,
And bandages made of blankets you once slept soundly under,
And heartlines worn deep in the palms of your hands.
Ever-Fading DreamYou are my direction,Ever-Fading Dream3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
but you're more than what you seem;
you are my destruction,
you're my ever-fading dream...
Reality is so much worse
than the world inside my head,
where longing weaves a tangled web
of every word you've ever said.
Life is never quite the way
that love makes it appear;
Every time I think I'm close
I find I'm nowhere near.
If all my love has been in vain
have I ever loved at all?
Have I come this close to you
only now to fall?
I've danced alone with memories,
never knowing which were real -
the bitterness of loss,
or the joy I came to feel.
I cannot seem to separate
the truth from my desire;
despair and hope are intertwined,
crackling like fire.
Faith tells me to hold onto you
fear begs me to let go -
will I spend all my time waiting
just to be alone?
I stand before you motionless
not knowing what to say.
If I reach out to touch you,
will you fade away?
Like ripples fade across the surface
of my silent stream -
if I open up my eyes
I KnowI rememberI Know4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when you were born,
you were so small
I was afraid to touch you.
But you came to me, right away.
I know you wanted
to be my child
and I obliged.
Yet I often wonder
who it was that rescued whom?
that cold November day
when you cuddled against daddy,
warm inside his coat
and fell asleep.
I know you wanted
to stay always indoors
away from that wretched cold,
against which your dark, silky hair
simply was no match.
when you first spoke,
your voice so small.
How my ears perked up, and my heart leaped
when you tried to say "Mom".
I know you want
to speak just like me,
but for never saying a word
your vocabulary is superb.
And I wonder which of us
is the true poet.
when you tried so hard to walk,
balancing upright against the wall, so proud.
I know you want
to walk just like me,
and I'm sorry I'm such a poor example;
And my limps, my crutches, my misplaced steps
make your efforts all the more valiant.
those gorgeous eyes
blooming gold rig
Dead PrettyDead PrettyDead Pretty4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I saw a girl in the street today
Her grace and beauty took my breath away.
She had dazzling eyes of bottle green
The most beautiful eyes i had ever seen.
Her hair was the colour of autumn leaves
It shimmered in the light as it danced in the breeze.
Her porcelain face and tinted pink cheeks
were enough to make any man's knees weak.
She caught my eye and then flashed me a smile
I have to admit i was dazed for a while.
She stepped into a car and it drove away
Still, i saw her again that very next day.
Though not in the flesh, Oh no not at all.
I picked up a paper and my heart sank when i saw...
Upon the front page, typed up in bold
Were words which made my blood run cold.
Another girl murdered, found dead in the park
Though twas the image below that broke my heart...
Though the colours were faded, I could still see
A pair of green eyes staring up at me...
Set into a porcelain face framed by auburn hair
Life is so cruel, injust and unfair.
I read the rest of artic
Clouds In WinterI remember every day,Clouds In Winter4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
slipping, slipping away
into memory's abyss.
Oh, what I'd give for this...
The relentless sway of time
rocks the cradle, trembling,
while I'm lost remembering
in the boughs of timeless trees,
shattered by the breathless breeze;
above me swaying candied apples,
perfect in a childhood dream.
My heart drowns
in the empty space
that no time ever shall erase;
left by the memory, the endless demand
of time immortal severed by our own hand.
Hours and days,
dreams gone astray.
Weeks and months,
of fruitless hunt.
It's all gone wrong
our years dying and gone
We cease to exist
as the chasm rips,
and leave only the husk of resplendent memory,
begging the sky for identity,
to grace the edges of the places we have been.
...will we ever be there again?
Today, I Am Still ThereToday the wind is warmToday, I Am Still There3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and carries scents that spark my memory.
Today, I am not here.
On a day much like this
I shattered my spirit;
splintered shards slid from my spine,
through shattered vertebrae,
and clung to cracks in walls,
then scattered on the wind.
Today I can feel those fragments,
I can smell it in the musty scent of books
that takes me back to the house made of paper and words.
Some fragment would remain there, I know,
even if not for the fall.
Today I smell roses,
I feel warmth against my skin,
and hear birds chirping hymns to the spring;
sometimes I can almost hear
footsteps on the deck,
and I wonder
if I even miss the sun.
Today, I am still there.
Today I can feel wind in my hair,
and if I close my eyes,
I can catch that fragment that still flies,
zipping past the sidewalks
on legs strong above the blades.
Today, I ride the wheels I long for.
I've always heard I was was an air spirit;
sound and scent my guides,
The Ballad of SerenityA nightingale in a birch nearby,The Ballad of Serenity5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
sang a song that made her cry.
"Another note and I shall die!"
Her threat was met with no reply.
And so she rested by the stream,
and heard the crickets softly dream.
She watched the cattails kiss the stars,
believing heaven not so far.
"And here is where I shall be free,"
whispered fair Serenity.
The orphaned child, the strange young girl
born into an ancient world.
No elegance or skill had she
but the ballad, of Serenity.
She was cursed with just one song:
a ballad haunting, soft and long.
The words were never hers to hear,
but danced always beyond her ear.
On harp, flute, lyre she wiled away,
the notes that only she could play.
Yet she grew tried of just one song
and ran away before too long,
into a wood with stream of gold
where rumored lived the bards of old.
She found the caves of deepest blue
and told them, "I have searched for you."
Serenity the bards admired.
They gave to her the sacred lyre,
which bound her soul between its strings,
to find th
perpetual decemberwould you give me your december?perpetual december4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i am holding out my frail plywood wrists
and begging you for something
too heavy for either of us to hold
[though you are somehow cradling it
in your fractured celestial mind].
would you sing december to me?
would you play it in thirds
and mold it into something i can see?
i would give the dying bamboo
on my window sill to feel you again
[like when you cut your hands on raw selenite
but they don't bleed].
december is slipping out of our reach.
she is slipping quietly out the door
and i have my hands held high
like sentinels of the sky
and my eyes closed in patient rapture.
you are slipping quietly out of my reach,
out the door
[you did not want to interrupt me;
me and my goddamn emotional revolution.
i am awake and it is not december anymore,
but there are dead leaves on the kitchen table
and it is time for me to go
[i am left with falling in love with people i don't know,
i will see you again].
Winter's Kissi saw winter dancingWinter's Kiss4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so i grabbed her
and pulled her in for a kiss.
with a sweet, slow
i swept her off
and carried her down to summer.
December RainDecember RainDecember Rain3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
So it was the end of December.
There was a steady rain touching the peaks
of our eyes' tiniest lashes
to shroud them in cracked drops
that would ice over as your breath did.
(why was it so cold?)
It was to make them as strong as steel,
though they crumbled like dust, nearly
collapsing from the wind flurrying around.
(I could trace it from the rain and
carcasses of leaves that stuck to its sound)
And each and every note that left your pharynx
was the color of a dead blue, blending in
so it was invisible under all the noise in the background.
And I stood, waiting for the time your mouth would just stop and
for you to understand how much time could hurt
when abused and left out to dry like a towel in the sun
on a day like today.
With each tick of the clock I rocked on these nearly-new feet
and tried to taste the remnants of autumn wafting from the lawn.
(that was my favorite season, though it won't come again)
Though when I saw the lights go out in your eyes,
ransomand I don't know what'll happenransom4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I pray to gods whose names I forgot
long ago because of you
and the charm you put on me
and I beg beg with words I can't even
say out loud
the fire burns deep inside
cooling everything to a zero ground
I hope it still has sense
I beg myself not to close my eyes
images of our talks your scent
and those meaningful smiles
I need to believe you're still alive
why i'm scared of ghostsdear ghost of christmas past,why i'm scared of ghosts4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it's christmastime. christmas eve, to be exact. i can't look outside without seeing the shimmer of the snow, like tiny fireflies etched into each flake. glistening strands of colorful bulbs christen the neighborhood, like they're declaring us worthy of a little light.
i'm shivering like i got caught in a snow bank, and i'm blinking like i'm hoping my eyelashes will tangle together and pull my lids closed.
i was wondering; if dreams are so pretty, why do they shatter like sherry glasses against tile as soon as we open our eyes? maybe they aren't meant for us to hang on to, cause the most beautiful things are only ever viewed at a glance.
(any more than that, and you start to notice the bloody color of the sky and the way the roses smell more bitter than sweet.)
and i was thinking that's why snow gives itself over to the wind so easily, cause looking too closely at your hand linked through m
Dark MotherBleed your colors to the ground,Dark Mother4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
let them swirl in the vortex of your breath.
The gathering chill escaped from your lungs
whispers the green earth into death.
Dark Mother, keep the spirits
you hold within your hands.
Souls eternally bidden,
soaked and seeped into the land.
Dark Mother, keep your fury
quivering deep within the ground.
Harm us not, but let us hear
the power of that sound.
The wheel is turning, always turning
as the sun falls from the sky.
Mother can you tell me,
oh can't you tell me why?
Dark Mother, stir your cauldron
deep living waters of rebirth.
Wash clean this wretched wreckage
we have wreaked upon the earth.
Dark Mother, shall we reap
all that we have sown?
When spring returns will you be there?
to light our path toward home?
The wheel is turning, always turning
as the seasons slowly die.
Mother can you tell me,
oh can't you tell me why?
Will you exhale a merciful breath,
to warm our world once more?
Or stop the wheel from turning,
leave us trappe
Things You RememberYou remember the time when, as a child, you were taken away from your mama and guided to a forest by the man you thought was Papa. He left you alone in the darkness. You cried and cried for hours, but he didn't come back. You were cold and scared, and you could hear the sounds of the monsters coming closer and closer. All you had were the clothes on your back and the trinkets he had given you. The necklace at your throat was a strange cube with no center. You clung to it, desperate, and eventually fell into an uncertain slumber.Things You Remember4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
When you awoke, the monsters had appeared. They were bigger than you, and you were scared, and you started to cry again. But the monsters comforted you. They cuddled close to you to keep you warm, and dried your tears. You felt a little less scared, and although you missed Mama, you felt safe in the hands of these powerful beings.
You stayed with them in the years to come. You learned how to speak to them, and although you still thought about Mama and the man y
EnoughI'm holding on to secrets so tightly my hands start to burn.Enough3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Winter has come full-force, wind sending the windows quivering against their panes and snow blanketing the Earth in an ivory sheen. We're all bundled up inside, pressed together for warmth to maybe give a bit of it to the not-still-living locked up in a metallic casket no bigger than a shoe box. The mix of flowers yellow roses, her favorite and the musty smell of the funeral home permeates everything, makes my nose crinkle up and eyes sting, spilling over with tears.
The sea of nameless, faceless acquaintances part as I walk forward, cold hands on my back and muted, guilty I'm sorrys assaulting my ears, prolonging my mission. I meet the table, watch my Aunt sniffle and move on her way, pausing to wipe her tears on my shoulder and hug me tight.
I take my turn, all eyes on me. They know,
Her face stares back at me, a dozen pressed beneath glass, her hair in a bob the color of driftwood a
Of treesDeep ghost-groves of freckled aspenOf trees3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
burn white beneath the winter sun,
whisper hoary adulation,
canticles for the Holy One.
And in the trees, the spirits dance
betwixt the motes of starry snow
illuminated by the lance
of lightning flash and candle glow.
All lights within this place combine,
reflect in splendour, white on white,
and mingle in a trance sublime
that breathes in peace through winter night.
The lofty heads of stately pine
rear up and brush the lowered sky
as if they could, by straightened spine,
so please the God who built them high.
Their incense needles, fragrant, fall
in silence to the chapel floor
and still above, they shade the hall
where ghosts who come by night adore.
Black on black, and brown by green,
create a hush bereft of light
where one may linger safe, unseen,
and sleep in peace through winter night.
Stories From the Psych Ward (2 of 3)I'm so cold I feel it down to the bones,Stories From the Psych Ward (2 of 3)3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sitting in the dining hall trembling
over my cup of tea. A huge Christmas
tree twinkles merrily beside me in red, blue, silver, pink and gold.
Patients huddle together outside to talk,
but I'm forbidden to join them,
trapped inside the ward on a category four.
They're all strangers to me, I've spoken to no one.
Smoking their cigarettes in faded pajamas,
looking tired and worn down,
lips twisting into smiles as the smoke
curls down into their lungs.
Nurses find me hiding from evil spirits in the cupboard.
They let me stay inside, safe until the panic stops and
the shadows disappear, give me blankets
to stay warm, until they take me by the hand and lead me out.
Two psychiatrists come to speak with me
While insects pour from my lips
And satellites speak of the death of stars
The voices scream at me
But I talk.
They want me to trust them
They want me to stay alive.
A nurse takes six canisters of my blood,
a deep frothy red. It pours out of my
Peace On EarthFreedom is not freePeace On Earth4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Love, it never lasts
Forgiveness has its limits,
We are trapped within our pasts.
all the bodies fall,
all the blood is shed,
Where is the " g i f t " we fought for?
Is there a reason that we're dead?
And one tin soldier watches
DecemberMy hands areDecember4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
black with soot
and shiny with grease;
the embers lie low.
The air grew teeth.
We sit alone
in our separate dreams
and entertain the shade
of what was lost.
Our fingers will twitch
with phantom pain-
our mouths will run dry.
Everything I am,
by a fistful of
words with teeth;
as heavy as gold,
as poison as lead,
and I can't write poetry
because I said I would
leave you alone
and you never leave the lines-
you are there between them,
the promises of winteri will wear gloves fromthe promises of winter5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
now until march. this is something
i decided last year and i am
determined to stick to it.
if there is anything to which i will
adhere, any self-set rule i will follow,
this will be it. and i will
know myself better for it.
when i am handed a
hot white mug of peppermint tea
i will not be burned because of
these gloves. and when there is
snow all over the place, when the
streetlamps are cold with it,
my hands will be
ecstatic with heat.
my only fear is the wearing-out
of fabric. my hands are put to
good use every day and i can see this
becoming a kind of problem. i will
have to guard my hands very carefully
from now until march. i will
treat them as glass.