For those who still follow this blog- I commend you!
But I have also moved to http://writingwhileteenaged.blogspot.com/
It's a different blogspot account. It's also not a poetry blog; it chronicles the process of writing my first novel, which should be.. interesting, but not poetical. At least not in a daily basis. I'll try to appease.
Anyway, I haven't felt confident enough to post any of my poetry in awhile, obviously, so this blog is pretty defunct. Sorry to disappoint!
I'd love to see you around my new blog.
Much love,
Abby
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Thursday, November 17, 2011
"Utterly worthless," he called me. The words kicked around like an ox in my mind as I gathered up my discarded clothes and pride from the unclean floor. Anger flamed in my stomach, burning into my bones, creating fuel for my trembling legs. Rising from the floor, from my ashes, I locked eyes with my next obstacle, noticing how the morning light glinted though the windows on the door. It would be an easy escape. One twist of the knob, a foot over the threshold, into free land. Hardly anything fantastical about it. People walk through doors all the time.
The anger in my bones drove my fingernails into the palms of my hand, relishing the real pain, the physical pain, a departure from mental torture. The anger in my bones drew one silent foot into the air, brought it down on cool wood flooring. It was that easy.
I could do it.
I winced as worthless played a repetitive loop in my mind. Dropped my clothes, neatly folded, to the unclean floor.
"I knew you'd never do it," he said as I climbed back into bed.
Monday, October 17, 2011
For Emmeline
For the girl who was fraught with death
who followed it around like a martyr
with flowers in your
hair, and a pencil in your hand.
Did she reach for the moonlight
as she blinked in the face
of two familiar deathrattle eyes?
And for all your odes and well-wrought verses
were you prepared to leave
hand in hand with that spectre
when he grasped your hands in his?
And did she sigh
as the moon chilled the sky
and whisper
"I'd like to stay here,
just a little bit longer,
just a little longer, is all"
But Emmeline, with flowers in your hair,
dead ears caught your gentle cries
and you departed, the flowers falling from your hair,
to join the immortalized.
(A rough draft. If anyone knows the literary character this alludes to, I will be in awe of you for the rest of your life.)
who followed it around like a martyr
with flowers in your
hair, and a pencil in your hand.
Did she reach for the moonlight
as she blinked in the face
of two familiar deathrattle eyes?
And for all your odes and well-wrought verses
were you prepared to leave
hand in hand with that spectre
when he grasped your hands in his?
And did she sigh
as the moon chilled the sky
and whisper
"I'd like to stay here,
just a little bit longer,
just a little longer, is all"
But Emmeline, with flowers in your hair,
dead ears caught your gentle cries
and you departed, the flowers falling from your hair,
to join the immortalized.
(A rough draft. If anyone knows the literary character this alludes to, I will be in awe of you for the rest of your life.)
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Precious Lifetimes
Breathe in breathe out
never pause, for greatness lies
in every passing second you waste
breathing in, breathing out
someone can do it better faster longer
never stop beating the path
to glory fame happiness
sex love acceptance
decline illness death
you'll be dead long before your funeral
but you'll be three steps ahead
of everyone else.
never pause, for greatness lies
in every passing second you waste
breathing in, breathing out
someone can do it better faster longer
never stop beating the path
to glory fame happiness
sex love acceptance
decline illness death
you'll be dead long before your funeral
but you'll be three steps ahead
of everyone else.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Weightless
There’s a certain point in your life when you are boundless. Generally it happens in childhood, as you grow up and watch the wonderful world shift around you, and you believe you can do whatever you want to do because you’ve seen it happen before and you don’t yet know of restraints. But sometimes childhoods are tough, sometimes the powers at be don’t allow you to maintain innocence long enough to experience this weightlessness. Never fear; the boundlessness will catch up to you later in life. One day you will wake up, the sun will be shining, and as you breathe in you will feel something crumble away.
Here’s another secret I will whisper in your ear: once you are boundless, you will never again be chained.
That day you wake up and feel your spirit rejoice in every cell of your body, that day when you wake up and everything is so beautiful that it’s nearly painful to look at, it will be a fulcrum in your life. You will never again be laid low by the world. That day will come.
Today wasn’t that day.
You woke up and the world bore down on you with fangs of woe. Outside, the cold sunlight refused to let in any warmth. The air was weighted with worry, and it collected in your lungs like piles of gravel. Immediately, your brain started to churn out reasons why you weren’t going to make it.
The day passed slowly for you. It was filled with the usual pain, boredom. Yes, there was happiness; but it refused to sparkle through the opaque curtain of self-doubt you lowered, and when you looked back on it, the day was a blur of gray.
Yes, it’s hard to look forward when it’s so much more entrancing to look back. Sometimes pain can be beautiful, just as beauty can be pain, and if you don’t pay attention, you can become spellbound by your own sorrow. There’s a certain satisfaction in thinking you know that the world is shit and you’re bound for nothing. I’m here to tell you that you’re not. Tear your gaze away from the hypnotizing sadness and relax in the present.
Above all, don’t worry. What did I tell you? Some day, the weightlessness will come.
Tomorrow will be that day.
You will wake up and notice the beautiful color of the rising sun as it breaks through your curtains and touches you with light. Outside, the sun will gently take your hand as you grab the morning paper. You will taste the air and remember that even the most mundane and autonomous of tasks can be sweet and new. Yes, there will be happiness; it will shine and smile.
Tomorrow will be that day because the world is at your fingertips. You are the only thing in your way. Once you realize this, you can shove aside your carefully constructed barriers and let the weightlessness come and lift you into a boundless blue sky. Tomorrow will be that day.
You will stand up and feel something crumble.
You will be happy.
You will be weightless.
I promise.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Writing is the only way out of this shithole.
Writing is the only way to happiness.
Writing is the only way out of my mind.
Writing is the only way to prove myself.
Writing is the only thing I'm good at.
Writing is the only thing I'm proud of.
Writing is the only way for me to be noticed.
Writing is the only thing I want to love.
But do I love it?
Writing is the only way to happiness.
Writing is the only way out of my mind.
Writing is the only way to prove myself.
Writing is the only thing I'm good at.
Writing is the only thing I'm proud of.
Writing is the only way for me to be noticed.
Writing is the only thing I want to love.
But do I love it?
Thursday, August 4, 2011
A Lion Among Men
[It's long. I apologize. You don't have to read it, but I need to store it somewhere.]
As thunder rolled around the pitch black sky, a beast stalked the streets of Rome, dragging his mangled paw behind him and squinting through the deserted streets with half-lidded yellow eyes. His gigantic head slowly swiveled from side to side, searching the darkened alleys for signs of life. Ahead of him loomed an arena, majestically lit with torches, a shining beacon in the night. The beast walked with a limping shuffle, but under his matted, bloodstained golden coat rippled powerful muscles. As he neared the arena, the beast gave a low growl, his bitten ears flattening against his head. He bared his long, pointed teeth and stopped, surveying the huge building through his bloodshot golden eyes. The streets were devoid of life, but everyone locked inside their houses felt a shiver of fear shudder through their body as the beast growled, and those safe in their beds drew their blankets closer.
After a couple of moments the beast ceased growling and resumed his shuddering walk towards the arena entrance, barely visible through the gloom. A steady rain began to fall, but the water could not cleanse the memory of blood from the beast’s back, though he was soaked to the bone. He slipped inside the archway to the arena. To his right was a set of marble stairs, draped in red velvet and covered with flowers. Past winners of the gladiatorial games had their names carved into a slab of marble hung on the wall, and the beast faced this plaque. Leonidas. That was the name he was looking for. The beast growled again before gliding silently up the stairs.
Echoes of celebrations bounced around the hall, emanating from behind a wooden door at the end of the hallway. The beast padded down the long hall, purring with anticipation. His long nails snagged on the expensive Persian carpet, and he stopped, kneading the carpet and tearing apart the hand-sewn pattern. The shouting had stopped, and men started to filter out of the great room at the end. The beast disappeared into a shadowy alcove, watching with vengeful cat’s eyes until he spotted his prey.
“Okay, okay, Andreus. We’ll continue this card game tomorrow!” Leonidas laughed, his handsome face lighting up with the glow of celebration and a little too much wine. He threw open the heavy wooden door, marveling again at his considerable strength. His chestnut hair gleamed in the torchlight, and his dark eyes sparkled with jollity. Feeling invincible, he decided to head out for a walk in the stormy night, too full of adrenaline and laughter to sleep. The lion followed behind him silently as he exited the arena.
“It’s been a great day,” he said to himself as he ambled down the street, sticking to the sides of shops and houses to escape the falling rain. He started to whistle, though the slightly off-key melody was lost in the roll and rumble of the thunder. Flashes of lightning began in the distance, and he watched them with a detached interest. Nothing could hurt him now, he was a god, and he’d earned it.
The game was a great one. His favorites were always the animal fights- it returned him to a simpler time, where actions were fueled simply by adrenaline and instinct. And today his opponent was a lion- how ironic, indeed, was it to fight the very animal you were named after? Leonidas relieved the glory in his mind. The lion was led into the arena, shrinking back from the crowds’ jeers and catcalls. His proud golden eyes held fury, and his teeth were bared in anger. Leonidas held the lion’s gaze confidently and assertively, as he always did. He would not back down from this fight.
He remembered with a rush of joy the feeling of plunging his short sword through the beast’s neck, feeling his arm covered with its warm blood. He’d looked down to find the beasts’ teeth inches from his own throat- he’d caught it mid-pounce. The crowd went wild- it was a picture-perfect victory. Leonidas stood, panting and waving at the crowd, feeling their adoration. Maybe some gladiators were forced into the fight, but he always went with honor. He lived for the thrill of the kill.
As he reminisced, the lion slipped from shadow to shadow, growling softly. When he was close enough to Leonidas to scent the wine he had consumed, he roared.
“What the-!” Leonidas whirled around. Catching sight of the beast in front of him, his dark brown eyes widened in shock. “It can’t be…” he whispered, his heart pounding. The lion smelled his fear and grinned a toothy animal smile. Leonidas tried to scream, but the lion pounced. Finally, he felt sweet revenge at his teeth, and he paused so Leonidas could feel the fear that he’d felt in his last moments of life. Then he ripped his throat.
That night, every citizen of Rome heard a terrifying roar echo through the streets.
After a couple of moments the beast ceased growling and resumed his shuddering walk towards the arena entrance, barely visible through the gloom. A steady rain began to fall, but the water could not cleanse the memory of blood from the beast’s back, though he was soaked to the bone. He slipped inside the archway to the arena. To his right was a set of marble stairs, draped in red velvet and covered with flowers. Past winners of the gladiatorial games had their names carved into a slab of marble hung on the wall, and the beast faced this plaque. Leonidas. That was the name he was looking for. The beast growled again before gliding silently up the stairs.
Echoes of celebrations bounced around the hall, emanating from behind a wooden door at the end of the hallway. The beast padded down the long hall, purring with anticipation. His long nails snagged on the expensive Persian carpet, and he stopped, kneading the carpet and tearing apart the hand-sewn pattern. The shouting had stopped, and men started to filter out of the great room at the end. The beast disappeared into a shadowy alcove, watching with vengeful cat’s eyes until he spotted his prey.
“Okay, okay, Andreus. We’ll continue this card game tomorrow!” Leonidas laughed, his handsome face lighting up with the glow of celebration and a little too much wine. He threw open the heavy wooden door, marveling again at his considerable strength. His chestnut hair gleamed in the torchlight, and his dark eyes sparkled with jollity. Feeling invincible, he decided to head out for a walk in the stormy night, too full of adrenaline and laughter to sleep. The lion followed behind him silently as he exited the arena.
“It’s been a great day,” he said to himself as he ambled down the street, sticking to the sides of shops and houses to escape the falling rain. He started to whistle, though the slightly off-key melody was lost in the roll and rumble of the thunder. Flashes of lightning began in the distance, and he watched them with a detached interest. Nothing could hurt him now, he was a god, and he’d earned it.
The game was a great one. His favorites were always the animal fights- it returned him to a simpler time, where actions were fueled simply by adrenaline and instinct. And today his opponent was a lion- how ironic, indeed, was it to fight the very animal you were named after? Leonidas relieved the glory in his mind. The lion was led into the arena, shrinking back from the crowds’ jeers and catcalls. His proud golden eyes held fury, and his teeth were bared in anger. Leonidas held the lion’s gaze confidently and assertively, as he always did. He would not back down from this fight.
He remembered with a rush of joy the feeling of plunging his short sword through the beast’s neck, feeling his arm covered with its warm blood. He’d looked down to find the beasts’ teeth inches from his own throat- he’d caught it mid-pounce. The crowd went wild- it was a picture-perfect victory. Leonidas stood, panting and waving at the crowd, feeling their adoration. Maybe some gladiators were forced into the fight, but he always went with honor. He lived for the thrill of the kill.
As he reminisced, the lion slipped from shadow to shadow, growling softly. When he was close enough to Leonidas to scent the wine he had consumed, he roared.
“What the-!” Leonidas whirled around. Catching sight of the beast in front of him, his dark brown eyes widened in shock. “It can’t be…” he whispered, his heart pounding. The lion smelled his fear and grinned a toothy animal smile. Leonidas tried to scream, but the lion pounced. Finally, he felt sweet revenge at his teeth, and he paused so Leonidas could feel the fear that he’d felt in his last moments of life. Then he ripped his throat.
That night, every citizen of Rome heard a terrifying roar echo through the streets.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Completing Nicolai
1) Please state your name for the record?
Record? What record? Is this being recorded? Is that legal? It's Abby.
2) If you were a penguin, on the other hand, what do you think your name would be? Hypothetically speaking, of course.
Zooey.
3) Would you consider your ears to be smaller than average, average, larger than average, or freakishly large?
Average. Depressingly and wallfloweringly average.
4) Are you more of a Beatles or an Elvis fan? (If you answer the latter, please proceed to go set yourself on fire and then die in a hole.)
lul who r dey i liek the beetlez
5) Have you ever killed anyone? If so, did you do it with your bare hands?
My bare hands and a bit of cyanide. It was a crime of passion and pizza.
6) If you could use any fruit to describe the size and shape of your head, what fruit would you use?
Are kumquats fruit?
7) Is there any famous person you'd go gay for? Please state their name. This question is, of course, purely for academic purposes.
Emma Stone. And Anne Hathaway. And Paget Brewster. I might have to reexamine my sexuality.
8) If you had the choice, would you rather go to space, meet Paul McCartney, scuba dive in the Pacific Ocean, or sleep with Carmen Electra?
Meet Paul McCartney and tell him I cried throughout his whole Fenway concert and refused to leave until the security kicked us out. And then I could frame his signature on the restraining order.
9) How long have you had your blog? What made you start one?
I don't know. How long have I had this thing? I wanted a place to put my writing where nobody would ever see it. It's been rather successful, with you as my only audience.
10) What is your weirdest phobia?
I don't play favorites with my phobias. They might get jealous.
11) Do you believe in God?
Not a God as defined by any religion I've seen, but a diety, yes. I'm a deist, I suppose.
12) If you could start a collab. blog with any four bloggers, which ones would you do it with?
I don't know four bloggers. I only know you.
13) If you were trapped on a desert island with the same four bloggers you mentioned in the last question, which one would you eat first? With which one would you procreate?
We'd have a very interesting relationship, wouldn't we?
14) What's your favourite 80's movie?
The Breakfast Club, predictably.
15) What kind of music do you listen to?
The kind I've never heard of. It's pretty good, but sometimes there are these long silences that they should try to fix in their next record when it comes out on vinyl.
16) Imagine that you open your bedroom closet one day and suddenly a portal opens up. You can't see what is at the end of the portal, but there is a totoro inside it motioning you to follow him. Would you go inside, even if it might mean you'll never come back?
Yes.
17) If you're a woman, do you find facial hair on men attractive? If you're a man, do you find facial hair on woman attractive?
Only soul patches. And by soul patches, I mean no.
18) Do you like babies?
Are those the evil things that throw up a lot and don't listen to reason?
19) What's the most violent thing you've ever done to an inanimate object?
I feel bad for inanimate objects. I might have thrown a pillow once, but why make the life of something that can't move on its own and lives at the mercy of us animate objects any worse?
20) What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you?
I tripped a little when I walked once and a guy looked at me funny it was devastating.
21) Do you think the world will end in 2012?
Obviously. Those Mayans.
22) Have you enjoyed this survey? Be honest, now.
Thoroughly.
23) Are you following The Nerd Archives? If not, DO YOURSELF THE FAVOUR OF DOING SO NOW.
Record? What record? Is this being recorded? Is that legal? It's Abby.
2) If you were a penguin, on the other hand, what do you think your name would be? Hypothetically speaking, of course.
Zooey.
3) Would you consider your ears to be smaller than average, average, larger than average, or freakishly large?
Average. Depressingly and wallfloweringly average.
4) Are you more of a Beatles or an Elvis fan? (If you answer the latter, please proceed to go set yourself on fire and then die in a hole.)
lul who r dey i liek the beetlez
5) Have you ever killed anyone? If so, did you do it with your bare hands?
My bare hands and a bit of cyanide. It was a crime of passion and pizza.
6) If you could use any fruit to describe the size and shape of your head, what fruit would you use?
Are kumquats fruit?
7) Is there any famous person you'd go gay for? Please state their name. This question is, of course, purely for academic purposes.
Emma Stone. And Anne Hathaway. And Paget Brewster. I might have to reexamine my sexuality.
8) If you had the choice, would you rather go to space, meet Paul McCartney, scuba dive in the Pacific Ocean, or sleep with Carmen Electra?
Meet Paul McCartney and tell him I cried throughout his whole Fenway concert and refused to leave until the security kicked us out. And then I could frame his signature on the restraining order.
9) How long have you had your blog? What made you start one?
I don't know. How long have I had this thing? I wanted a place to put my writing where nobody would ever see it. It's been rather successful, with you as my only audience.
10) What is your weirdest phobia?
I don't play favorites with my phobias. They might get jealous.
11) Do you believe in God?
Not a God as defined by any religion I've seen, but a diety, yes. I'm a deist, I suppose.
12) If you could start a collab. blog with any four bloggers, which ones would you do it with?
I don't know four bloggers. I only know you.
13) If you were trapped on a desert island with the same four bloggers you mentioned in the last question, which one would you eat first? With which one would you procreate?
We'd have a very interesting relationship, wouldn't we?
14) What's your favourite 80's movie?
The Breakfast Club, predictably.
15) What kind of music do you listen to?
The kind I've never heard of. It's pretty good, but sometimes there are these long silences that they should try to fix in their next record when it comes out on vinyl.
16) Imagine that you open your bedroom closet one day and suddenly a portal opens up. You can't see what is at the end of the portal, but there is a totoro inside it motioning you to follow him. Would you go inside, even if it might mean you'll never come back?
Yes.
17) If you're a woman, do you find facial hair on men attractive? If you're a man, do you find facial hair on woman attractive?
Only soul patches. And by soul patches, I mean no.
18) Do you like babies?
Are those the evil things that throw up a lot and don't listen to reason?
19) What's the most violent thing you've ever done to an inanimate object?
I feel bad for inanimate objects. I might have thrown a pillow once, but why make the life of something that can't move on its own and lives at the mercy of us animate objects any worse?
20) What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you?
I tripped a little when I walked once and a guy looked at me funny it was devastating.
21) Do you think the world will end in 2012?
Obviously. Those Mayans.
22) Have you enjoyed this survey? Be honest, now.
Thoroughly.
23) Are you following The Nerd Archives? If not, DO YOURSELF THE FAVOUR OF DOING SO NOW.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
...and then a magical unicorn floated down and said, "Behold, I hold the ambrosia of the gods."
And clutched in its purple hoof was a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos. It placed the Doritos gently upon my head, whinnied, and galloped away on a rainbow made of human faces.
I really love Nacho Cheese Doritos. Sometimes I think that I write to give purpose to my life, but now I remember that the only purpose I have in life is to eat all of the Nacho Cheese Doritos. All of them.
Of course, this means I must eat all Doritos, past and present and future. And since time traveling hasn't been invented yet, and the Doctor won't take me on as a companion because I'm not blond or red-haired, unfortunately, if you've ever consumed a Nacho Cheese Dorito in your life, I'm going to have to split you open and eat your stomach.
This applies to anyone who eats one in the future, too. So put down that Dorito. I mean it.
Also writing.
This is unpolished and unfinished, I think, so. If you have critique, share it, and I'll only maul your face a little bit.
"But why?" sighs the willow tree
As I stretch beneath her canopy
Nothing gave me better company
Than that softly sighing willow tree.
"Why so sad?" chirps the bluebird
Perched up high on the willow tree
No one offered better advice
Than the truth the bluebird told me.
"Nothing lasts forever," called the satin leaves
Their honest chorus sang to me
as I lay beneath the willow tree
and the weeping willow gently grieved.
"There's always hope," says she
As she reaches her hand to the willow tree
and beckons the bluebird from her perch
and sings a tune for the lonely leaves
and melts away into the night.
And I rejoice in the sun's bright light.
I really love Nacho Cheese Doritos. Sometimes I think that I write to give purpose to my life, but now I remember that the only purpose I have in life is to eat all of the Nacho Cheese Doritos. All of them.
Of course, this means I must eat all Doritos, past and present and future. And since time traveling hasn't been invented yet, and the Doctor won't take me on as a companion because I'm not blond or red-haired, unfortunately, if you've ever consumed a Nacho Cheese Dorito in your life, I'm going to have to split you open and eat your stomach.
This applies to anyone who eats one in the future, too. So put down that Dorito. I mean it.
Also writing.
This is unpolished and unfinished, I think, so. If you have critique, share it, and I'll only maul your face a little bit.
"But why?" sighs the willow tree
As I stretch beneath her canopy
Nothing gave me better company
Than that softly sighing willow tree.
"Why so sad?" chirps the bluebird
Perched up high on the willow tree
No one offered better advice
Than the truth the bluebird told me.
"Nothing lasts forever," called the satin leaves
Their honest chorus sang to me
as I lay beneath the willow tree
and the weeping willow gently grieved.
"There's always hope," says she
As she reaches her hand to the willow tree
and beckons the bluebird from her perch
and sings a tune for the lonely leaves
and melts away into the night.
And I rejoice in the sun's bright light.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Oh, Woe,
I don't really know. I haven't written anything in a while, so it's strange. Just.. shh.
Doe, look not so innocent
Your soul betrays malicious intent
For all your purity you cannot hide
All the times you've tricked and lied.
Oh doe, look not so surprised
Cannot deer live sinner's lives?
Blink slowly, but understand
The judgment hour is close at hand.
Oh, doe, look not so alarmed;
Only the unrighteous shall be harmed.
Doe, stretch not your neck to me
I've got more important things to see.
Doe, look not so innocent
Your soul betrays malicious intent
For all your purity you cannot hide
All the times you've tricked and lied.
Oh doe, look not so surprised
Cannot deer live sinner's lives?
Blink slowly, but understand
The judgment hour is close at hand.
Oh, doe, look not so alarmed;
Only the unrighteous shall be harmed.
Doe, stretch not your neck to me
I've got more important things to see.
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