Let Go

Here is another juicy piece of randomness that dripped from my inky pen to the paper below. Enjoy!

Let Go

Open air
Just beyond the wayward
Desires,
Protesting admittance to those who
Cannot let go.
Open air
Beckons irresistibly, never ceasing to
Promise peace
And yet always guarantees
Loss.

New Blogs!

Aloha everyone, and welcome to the new blogs of Sarah Halbrook! :0
If you are formerly familiar to the blog "A Writer's Tale", then you are in for some good news! Everything is in working order now, and is not as crushed and disorganized and smooshed together as it used to be. I have created two other blogs and moved my poetry and random documentations of my life to them, respectively. On each of my blogs, you will find a section on the left hand side that supplies two links to the other blogs. Please become a follower of them! I would love to have readers. :) Here is a small breakdown of the new set-up.

A Writer's Tale - Writings: stories or random blurbs
A Writer's Journey - Random documentation of my life
A Writer's Song - Poetry (because I just CAN'T stop writing it!)

Words

I hesitate to disclaim what this poem is about before I post the poem, simply because I enjoy hearing how people interpret my poetry! Thus, I will refrain from posting the reasonings behind this until later. :) Enjoy!

Words

He gathers the elusive
stars of night, and
depicts
their silent
brilliance
as a resounding symphony
to those who are
only able to
see
through the echoing veil.
She derives the songs
of the birds,
sketching the tones
as a harmonizing palette
before the ever-watchful
gazes
of those
who can only
hear
through the painted melodies.

Thoughts?

Approach

It is well into the mire,
upon which dances
an everlasting war;
naysayers frequent among
the turbulence of the days,
battling, in part,
the One they were
written for.
Until the latter dawn
bows down unto the nights,
the ember that
sustains impossibilities
will eternally reflect
the Light.

Poem #564?

So, here is another poem. (You guys haven't said that you wanted the next part of the story thingy, so that's why I haven't posted it yet, just sayin'. *whistles innocently*) Anyways, random poem. I do hope you enjoy. Hopefully, more poems will soon follow!
(And the rest of a story if someone posts...! *COUGHCOUGH*)

;)

Goodbye

Across the threshold
I step,
tentatively,
awaiting your cry
for me to return.
Goodbye.
I do not know
why
I still have hope
that one day you might
see me as
more.
Goodbye.
I do not take
my leave from you
willingly,
but because
I have been led
away.
Goodbye.
Perhaps my beliefs were
wrong;
maybe you won't
realize
I'm gone.
Goodbye.
I slowly turn
around.
Looking back at
what I am
now
leaving behind.
Goodbye.
Suspended in the
cruel graps of time
I wait, painfully,
for you to see
me.
Just one last time.
Goodbye.
The moment is stretching
further,
I cannot
keep it open
much
longer.
Goodbye.

Never Meant for Me

I wrote this poem, but it just feels awkward in verse form. Think it would be better as prose? Comment your opinion, please!

Years pass
hidden
away in a drawer,
forgotten by others,
unknown
to me.
The contents
are revealed
many
years later,
Reminiscent
of things that
used to be.
A memory surfaces
in the form of
a letter
many
pages in length.
Blow away
the dust and read
words
that were never meant for me.
A name appears,
my own,
alongside of a hope
that I'd held onto for so
long.
Hope that, as written,
was never meant to
be.
Conversations,
conventions,
I was not aware of
fill
the pages,
and I discover the
truth
of what was
never meant to be told.
Though it is years
old, I realize
my hopes
were all in vain.
Feelings
trust
are all broken.
The love,
faith,
freely given,
I withdraw in
pain.
Because of
what will never be
meant
for me.

Free

Into the end
we plunge before
the fall.
Driving ourselves,
furiously,
against the
fear
permeating our existence.
We ride,
unable to suppress
the sweet defeat of freedom.
For we are only
released
from the bonds we hold
when we are
beaten.
Thrown to the dirt
in the midst of our
meager lives,
we give up our last
breath
to the One we leapt for.
Only when we are
dead
to the world,
but alive to those
who have also trusted the unseen, and
believed,
will we truly be
free.

Their World

Echoes rage through the water.
Children laugh,
But not
there.
Troops trudge through bloody mire,
again wishing for a
true
honor to claim.
Their world spins
slowly
while their home
resumes its pace.
Still
their hearts throb for normalcy
but they move on,
valiantly,
to meet their
fate.

3rd in a Series of 4!

Snow, A Banana Peel, Starlings

Staring beneath crimson trees,
attuning to
apples,
snow alights
harmoniously above
protesting moons.
Freezing regret passes
by and settles
along a child's
feet.
Whilst a banana peel,
spongy and yellow
from
vitamin deficiencies
rests atop a mailman's
head.
All around, starlings
clutch
bits of pink paper
in slender beaks,
preparing to nest
amongst
Thanksgiving feasts.

Interpretation swells
as I leap,
far beyond endless
collaboration
within remedial
oration.
Well past simple
comprehension,
thought exceeds
normal pacification
and ventures through
realms
originally far-fetched,
but now only
well-versed
nonsense.

Mourning

No, I am not mourning. Neither am I sad. I have just been writing poems rather randomly recently, in the sense that I just simply allow myself to write whatever comes to my mind as my pen hovers over the paper. So, this is what my mind came up with today. ^_^

Mourning

What can we
be,
but waywards ones
sifting through
years
of loss
if we continue
in this way?
Shaky memories,
torn battles,
and fallen loved ones
try to part,
to breathe a final farewell,
but are siftly
ensnared
by mourning souls.
Why can we not set ourselves
free
from the prisoners
we hold?

Easter-ish Poem?

I have another poem. Are we surprised?
...no, not really.

Anyways, it's untitled. Wrote it Sunday during a random inspiration attack during the song service at church. *hides*

Alas. It did not turn out the way I wanted.

Through the ages,,
we've looked,
watched,
waited.
An invisible nation
of many,
scattered impetuously
throughout the world
and time,
anticipating.
We are
linked as one
eternally,
though estranged,
isolated
from our people and
home.
Our King,
seemingly forgotten,
quenched by the
pathetic practices
of this fallen world.
Our King will
return,
bind together
those who have
never known
belonging;
He will rise up
as the ages begin to
fade,
delivering us up
into the promise we
were given.
Reunited
eternally.

Cure for Loneliness: Tea

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have come up with an answer to Adwen's poem title, Cure for Loneliness: Tea. :)

Such a dear friend,
a warm cup of tea.
Comforting,
nurturing the
mind,
warming, heralding
to deeper skies.
It pursues tears,
sorrows,
distributing momentary
eradication
of doubts.
It encourages
thought,
bypassing the shallow
processes
accompanying loneliness.

(An extra section that I do not know if I should include or not. Comments?)
In an unfortunate turn
of events,
is it not logical
that one with no
preference for tea should,
indeed,
always be lonely?

...I do feel like I dipped into a Jane Austen flavor on that last section.

Poetry Projects!

So, on the DIOM forum, a group of us have decided to write poetry based off of one person's actual WIPs titles. I have taken initiative (I'm so proud of myself!) and written one already! :D

The titles that were proposed are as follows:
Snow, A Banana Peel, Starlings
Cure For Loneliness: Tea
Prior to the kidnapping
Document22

So, being as that I am a writer, and this is a piece of my writing, I am naturally going to post it on my blog. However, I must accredit the titles to whom they are due, Once Again White. *claps* I must invite her to join my blog. Skye, do you know if OAW has a blog?

Anyways, I present to you, the first in a series of four, my (hopefully) delightful poem!

Prior to the Kidnapping

Upon wings such as these
we had not believed it was so;
striving,
surviving,
till we fell unbidden
through stars,
ice,
and what was left
of what had been.
Only they remained,
relenting,
protesting obscurely
of perilous
dominion.
Having seen
that which
has not been beheld,
we waited.
Endless darkness,eternal black
plummeted by,
arced with embers,
and torn by light.
We waited,
ever-watchful eyes
scanning the distance.
Gold streaks slammed towards
the earth,
taunting our existence,
belittling trivial
ires
as we were
overcome.

A Poem Composed Among Sorted Paperclips

Why yes, you did read that right. I was at work today, and there was absolutely nothing to do. NOTHING. AT. ALL. I finished all of my work early. Anyways, I busied (somewhat) myself by organizing my desk, organizing the file cabinet next to my desk, organizing the drawer under the file cabinet next to my desk, then finally, decided to re-organize my already spotless desk. Meanwhile, I found some paperclips that were crudely thrown in a little storage space. Spotting an irresistable opportunity (you find things are much more amusing when you're hopelessly bored), I snatched the pile of paperclips and sorted them by size. Once they were neatly arranged (this process, I daresay, took a mere fifteen minutes), I seemed strangely drawn to my purple paper tablet (why yes, it really is purple, and no, I didn't bring it to work, it was there before I was), so I tentatively picked up my pen and twirled it in my hands once or twice. It was as if the pen had a mind of its own(this is all sounding strangely familiar); I set the tip down on the sheet, and proceeded to produce a precedented poem of primarily permissive purposes(amongst paperclips).

Alas, I present to you, yet another titleless poem. *bows profusely*

The wind promises
to sweep away
doubts, cares,
to reestablish trust.
Sighing breathlessly,
impatiently dodging
around eternal instability,
it flutters and leaves,
tiring of indecision.
Beckoning those
who leap
faithfully into tendrils of air,
forever grasping to
unseen arms
strong and unpredictable,
whisking away to adventure
and adversity
but always cradling
those
who believe.

*ahem* Poetry? No duh...

Another poem, the writing quality is mediocre, but I felt I needed to pour a glass of my heart out.


Unsung

You stare at the floor
Wishing you were someone else
You’d take back everything you said
Knowing nothing would turn out right.

You are so blind.

You look at your reflection
Seeing nothing special
You dream of big things
That you never expect to see.

Don’t look so surprised.

You wear the same pained expression
Day after day after day
Hating your own existence
Wondering why you’re here in this way.

I know the way you think.

You grimace as people walk by
Not wanting them to see you
Not because you’re at all shy
You just believe no one would want you.

But I see you, in a different light.

You care when others hurt
You comfort when hope is lost
And nothing can stop you from
Standing up for your friends.

Can’t you see?

Your faith is inspiring
Your loyalty rivals that of many
A better person to trust
I have never had.

This is how I see.

Believe me when I say
My friend,
I wouldn’t have it any other way
Because you mean the world to me.

You are my unsung
Hero.