To Summer Day

In these moments there is peace
-the kind of peace that you read about in stories,
            usually fairytales or something of that sort

The dark green blades of grass coupled with those of the dead
dancing in the heavy breeze
While the evergreens laugh with me
   -Waving back and forth

My good old Belle,
loyal as she is
lays sleepily beside me...
     the red bricks warming her belly
While her ears perk up to the
Wind chimes singing with the birds

I can only wait and wonder
how long this peace will last

Oh, to my summer days,
how much I shall soon
miss you

The Promise

I guess there's only one thing left to do when I'm not allowed to be with you, and that would be to pour my heart out like a vase with old water; the flowers left withering and crisp.  I cannot help but to love everything about you.  Whenever your hand, ever so softly, caresses my face, I could die in that moment and know that my life was complete.   Every time that your lips meet with mine, I know that we are meant to remain together until the end of our time.

And I promise you that I am, indeed, obsessed with you.  How could I not be? It has been four long years and, my Love, I have missed you so much.  The once a month visits were never enough and I know you say that you love me but, God, if there was some way to bring us closer together. 

You say that marriage is just a dream right now but you promise me it will happen soon.  And, you know what? I smile at the thought because I just want to know that I am bound to you in the Holiest way possible.  Call it whatever you would like, but I love you and I know that you love me too.  I know that when you hold me, you wish you didn't have to let go.  If time could stop forever, I would never let you go.  I would hold on stronger than vice grips or gorilla glue.  

Our parents don't know what to think. They accept it but don't want to jinx it, or at least that's what I like to tell myself.  Honestly, I have no idea.  You know me; I just like to daydream about everything.  You tell me that I can't always have my head in the clouds.  But where else is it supposed to be?  

My Love, I want you in the best way possible.  I want you to be mine.  I want to know that you are safe and that you are sound.  I will do anything to keep you comfortable and happy.  Your wish is my command.  If I held the traits, I could be your nymph. However, I don't think that my qualities   Trust me though, I will sure as Hell try.  

And what does that even mean?  Sure as Hell?  What is Hell?  Does it even exist? I don't even know if I exist.  Half the time I'm stuck in my own world wondering what is real and what isn't.  If you're not real, that would come as no surprise because you are better than all the dreams I ever did have.  

And... and-

Have you ever just though... what if things didn't happen this way?  We are so lucky.  Out of six and a half billion people and we happened to live down the street and fall in love.  We held each other together for four years and plan to keep it going.  I don't know about you, but I think that the odds that were against us were pretty high and we conquered.  

And if you want to leave me tomorrow, it won't come as a surprise.  You are just so perfect.  I cannot even begin to explain it.  How when I look at you, I have no idea what to do.  I am so in love with you.  

So...

If you ever forget me,

I won't blame you.

The Comforting Silence

From here and then farther
    into the night we shall go

A comforting silence while my chin rests on your chest
nose nuzzled into your side
and it feels quite alright

             Like someplace that I would like to...
     Oh, you know,
Stay for a while

As we watch the expanding universe veer off towards infinity
   and the gravitational pull of
Earth's atmosphere drags us in deeper
                                             and deeper
into itself

And yet,
I can't help but think
I wouldn't mind staying here for a while

Emily Dickinson... my lady

Oh the things that I could say about my dear friend Emily...  She brings me back all the way to my beginnings with writing.  I love this lady.  A close friend of mine's mom brought us to Emily's house when we were somewhere around ten years old.  Well, I found that her writing was inspiring and truly touched my heart and wanted to do the same.  I understand that with all things, practice makes perfect but I wanted to share with you a poem that really sparked the interest:

It was not death, for I stood up,
And all the dead lie down; 
It was not night, for all the bells 
Put out their tongues, for noon.

It was not frost, for on my flesh
I felt siroccos crawl,
Nor fire, for just my marble feet
Could keep a chancel cool.

And yet it tasted like them all;
The figures I have seen
Set orderly, for burial,
Reminded me of mine,

As if my life were shaven
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key;
And I was like midnight, some,

When everything that ticked has stopped,
And space stares, all around,
Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,
Repeal the beating ground.

But most like chaos,--stopless, cool,
Without a chance or spar,--
Or even a report of land 

To justify despair.

Saying Sorry

The wind blows

and where it goes

-nobody knows

it just flows away

into the breaking horizon

as the sun rises up

and the brilliant shimmer of day

glitters across the calm water bay.

The birds sing

as the breeze dances on their wing

and maybe this time

the preying jester will fool his king

Into thinking

that on this first day of Spring

nothing will come of the man

who refuses to say sorry

that his guilt will not haunt him

That he will not have to

go out on a limb

for anyone

And when he realizes he is wrong

He will have claimed

“I knew it all along”

Though in his heart

he is deeply shamed

because it is so hard to say sorry

when, afterwords, all he can do

is worry

that sorry will not mean Enough.

Sweater Vests

Sweater-vests are so cool

I wear them all the time,

Yeah,

Even at school.

So, I’m a tool

What of it?

You think you’re so nifty

Well, you don’t look so thrifty

So kick me,

A little boy just screamed:

“Ew, he licked me! He licked me!”

Johnny, stop it

Don’t lick anyone

That’s rude

Calm it down a bit

Don’t intrude

on my bliss

Well hey now,

     Check out those wrists

But you can’t top this

Check it with a plane white tee

I’ll dress it up

with a button down

So will you PLEASE

                  Look at me!

No, I said

                     Look at me!

I’m like a four year old

learning my ABCs

I’m so proud

You could spot me in the crowd

But it’s only because

sweater vests are so cool

Don’t look at me like I’m a fool

It’s the fashion key

Just wait.

You’ll see

This has been my one and only attempt at slam poetry.  Having recently graduated from boarding school, I rocked the sweater vest on occasion and found them to be quite fashionable though my classmates would most likely disagree.  Anywho, give me some feedback or send in your own!  Slam poetry is serious fun.  Try it out!  =D

Carrie Rudzinkski's Dear Stranger

I wasn't familiar with slam poetry until last year when my friend introduced me.  This friend of mine has a great reading voice and wound up winning a poetry recitation contest with this poem.  If you like this style, you should check out other authors such as Taylor Mali or Gerald Jackson.  Try writing your own!  (I wrote one about sweater vests that I'll post soon)

Dear Stranger,
if you hear this and think it could be about you, please don’t stop listening.  I am homeward bound and if I have found you then it must have been meant to be.  Take each word that is more than silence and place it inside parentheses.
You’ll know what to do soon enough.

Dear Stranger,
I used to be told by the boy that was in love with me that I had the talent to keep him on the phone for three hours longer than he’d planned to be.  It wasn’t until I would hang up that I would realize it wasn’t talent, but complete fascination of the sounds of our voices intertwining between two states
and the belief that we were closer than we were that kept us up all night.
He and I were the kind of bad dreams worth having.  Unforgettable with the desire to find out how it would have ended if we hadn’t woken up when we did - I’m not saying I’m still in love with him.
I just don’t believe I would be able to stop myself if I found him all over again.

Dear Stranger,
we were pipelines fumbling chances of locked eyes six inches away from all that we could breathe and I knew I liked it too much because I couldn’t pull my face out of a smile for two weeks.  I keep seeing you in the faces of boys who look nothing like you when I’m riding subways, but it’s been worth it every time for the eighth of a second roller coaster ride my heart gets to go on.  It’s like a chance meeting with Disney World and I don’t even care that the palm trees are bare this time of year in Boston.  I keep having to remind myself that we’re not in love yet, but I’m pulling for the fact that it could, should, might, has to happen so you’ll know my promises are worn on my hands like lifelines.
Permanent.
Pulled out of the sky, I made you into a constellation that spelled “take” so that every girl that laughed at your jokes would know that you laughed at my jokes and I don’t want the best.  I just need what can pull me out of the worst so that we can exist as storm clouds on dry summer nights.
Furious.

Dear Stranger,
I’ve been crossing out the word “sorry” from every dictionary that I could find since the age of ten and I’m not about to stop because I wear my emotions on my sleeve.  Piece me together with patches of three hour timeouts and the three minutes that elapsed before we met.  I’ll keep breathing for you, even when you don’t want me to.

Dear Stranger,
Daylight.
We haven’t met yet.
When we do, our smiles will be so close we’ll believe they’re from the same light source.
And that’s the way I like it.

One of my favorite poems

=] I love this poem by Laura Jackson

Take hands.
There is no love now.
But there are hands.
There is no joining now,
But a joining has been
Of the fastening of fingers
And their opening.
More than the clasp even, the kiss
Speaks loneliness,
How we dwell apart
And how love triumphs in this.

There's some pretty cool slam poetry that I'm really into as well.  I'll post some of that soon.  Share some of what you're into! =D

Love and Freindship [sic]