Apologies

My humblest of apologies to each of you, My Dearest Blog Readers...because I won't be able to post or get online for the next week.

I love you all, and shall return shortly...

-Josephine J.W

My Ancient Tree

It stands weathered and wrinkled afore my eyes;
It's great trunk creased and marked by years.
Blown by the wind other trees shake and sigh.
But wind's attempts my hundred-year tree defies.

Thickets of ivy sprout from resilent roots,
But leave the ancient russet of bole untouched.
Even the moss pays my King of Tree's tribute;
Birds songs are sweetest on the branches of repute.

The tree in the picture above was the one that inspired this poem. It actually looks a bit pathetic now that you see it here, along with my poem, but I want you to know that I wasn't making an exaggeration. Standing under that tree was magnificent...breathtaking...words can hardly describe what that ancient tree is to me.

The Roses

Passion portrayed within your petals
Of a deep and stately red
Love represented in your perfume
Covering our wedding bed
Contrasting red velvet upon white satin

Dew glistening on snowy walls
Mirroring perfection of purity
Bloody thorns that prick my fingers
As I pluck you with surety
And kiss your aloof white leaves

Your flirtatious sallies entice me
To pluck your green thorn-filled stem
Your girlish fantasies persuade me
To sniff the pink silk protected by them
And prick myself in the pursuit of pleasure

Your bright sunny leaves sing of joy
Filled with yellow and tipped with orange
You playfully sucker me in
Then prickingly cause me to cringe
And apologize with your pillows of sunshine.

The Forgotten Lover

As I meander through my garden
Filled with memories,
I stop beneath the willow,
And rest beneath the leaves

Then you come sweetly walking by
With flowers in your hair;
A wistful smile on your lips
And eyes that tears declare

You look at me contemptuously
As against the tree I lay,
Then toss your golden locks,
And slowly walk away

The pain in my betrayal
Is suddenly more real;
The wound I unwittingly opened
Refusing now to heal

Then you slowly disappear
When I fall to my knees,
And I find I can breathe again
Despite painful memories

You were not forgotten,
But carelessly tossed aside;
I am facing the horrible reality
That's now numb to all my cries.

Opera!

I would tell you why I love this song and opera in general, but I hardly think it necessary. xD!

The Grey

Roses and gargoyles
Red upon grey
Hourglasses and clocks
Reflections of time
The old and the new
Born acquaintances of rhyme.

The white and the black
Meld together slowly
An elderly colour
Replaces pigments of vibrancy
The whiskered clocks
Tick on and along endlessly.

Colourless is new
Darkest remains death
Birthing new life
Stunting the growth
Mingling dyes into shades
Infinity shows eternal oath.

-Smile of Fakery-

I still can't understand
That time you looked at me,
With eyes so full of hate;
Followed by a smile of fakery

You smile at me with your lips,
But never with your eyes;
Have I done something to deserve
Your fake grins so full of lies?

Why do you mar the beauty in a smile,
With glares showing otherwise?
Why do you smile with your lips,
But never with your eyes?

That toothy grin of yours
Is somehow killing me,
What is it you are hiding
Behind that fakery?

I'm waiting for a glance
To show me I am wrong;
Perhaps I was mistaken,
Were you smiling all along?

Yet still your eyes are gleaming
Of a hateful chill...
I'm just trying to understand,
Why do you try to smile still?

Ahem...so there you are...the second poem I ever wrote. I can remember...it actually wasn't one of those flowing poems, but rather one of those where I wrote a line here and there. I can't say it was my most inspired poem, it took a lot of time to complete it. Now it's much more fluid, when I start a poem I finish it then as well. But it took a lot of effort at first, and finding words to rhyme was ve-e-ery difficult, believe me. So, uh...yeah...if poetry doesn't flow, don't stress yourself. Practice makes perfect, I guess in almost every situation...although some must be born poets, or at least with a special talent for words.

Now I'm going to shut up...bah humbug...I do jabber in print.

Oh, yeah. I almost forgot to add an explanation for the weird picture. It was the only thing I could find...xD! And I guess some people might have difficulty interpreting human emotions.

Uh...Cookies, Anyone?

Hello Everyone,

I just realized that I haven't done many addresses to my blog readers themselves, and I'm terribly sorry. I'm also wallowing in guilt for not having posted for two days...xD! So be forewarned and forearmed and don't rub it in. Recently I've been reaquaintancing (Oh damn I didn't spell that right...) myself with the memoirs of my passion. In other words I've been showing you guys uper-duper old poetry. :P

So...uh...I found the second work I ever wrote! I called it 'Smile of Fakery', and my next post is going to consist of it. ^.^ If I were to rewrite the poem now I'm sure it would sound different. For one, my descriptions would be more full, I would probably use a great deal more metaphors, my vocabulary back then was somewhat more limited, and I would probably make it a lot more negative. Like 'teeth flashing icicles' or something awesome like that.

...That's something else I wanted to address. Special thanks to Lena for prompting me to bring this up. I know my poetry tends to dwell on the overpowering negative. More like my overpowering negative. Like when I described the sunset as a tragedy. Well, I must say, it was original. xD! People are always dwelling on the beauty and majesty of this evening masterpiece. But the sun drowning into a murky oblivion appealed to me. Anyways, that was probably wrong. I mean, me being a night-owl I even felt strange mourning over it. The night is awesomespastic. So...

I'm going to try and write more positive works. I have a good deal of them, but I must say the dark ones far outweigh the positive ones. Dark is kind of a part of my personality, and, don't get me wrong, it isn't going out the window. Darkness, evil, depression, and negative emotions are things that also have to be expressed through poetry. (Mum, Dad, I'm sorry). But next time it comes to writing about breakfast the porridge will be sweet instead of salty...(uh, I know, lame metaphor.) Anyhow, anyways, this must be the end because I have to run off to educate myself with Mathematics and a Grammar test. ^.^

...which reminds me, I'm oh-so-happy for myself. I finished 8th grade Grammar/English in 3.5 months. Applaud, applaud. :P

I hope that those of you who actually took time to read all this aren't bored half to death.

Chocolate to my Cookies,
Blueberries to my Muffins,
Sugar to my Lemons...
And...

*Searches frantically for the Apples*

True Beauty

A delicately placed mole,
On a flushed and pretty cheek;
Each doughnut has a hole,
A fruit, delicious, reeks.

The star-like twinkle in
Eyes shadowed by ugly brows;
A beautiful soul hidden within
The cripple's body endowed.

The beautiful voice of the bird
Covered in ugly brown spots;
Its sweetness is so often heard,
But to it's looks none allot.

A grimy urchin's face
Covered in dirt and sweat,
But when the filth is erased
An adorable child is met.

"Beauty is on the inside"
Is a phrase so often heard,
But if only we'd look past our pride,
And realize the truth in the word.

"Beauty is imperfection"
Such truth not 'oft is found,
Yet we only show pretty affection
To those with perfection crowned.

This is another bit of a walk down Memory Lane...probably one of the first ten I wrote. Not like it's such a great walk, seeing as I've just started last year... Enjoy?

Sound of Beauty

Sunlight falls upon my window pane,

Like dewy golden drops of warmth,

It dances, calls, and beckons me; into the land of sunshine rain,

But I stay—to listen, watch, and learn of the Splendor of the Sun.

Breezes gently whistle by,

Singing gently of forgotten tune,

I stop and listen to their lilting lullaby,

And wonder in the Whisper of the Wind.

Trees stretch out their strong, tanned arms,

And glisten against the cloudless blue of sky,

I rejoice, refreshed beneath their charm

Clothed in emerald splendor, adorned in vibrant light

Flowers shout, and dance, and sing, and play,

And grow up towards the yellow sky above,

Up from the sweet deep brown of earthen clay,

To return a heart in pain to joy again.

For old memories sake...this was the very first poem I ever wrote so it has a certain sentimental value. xD! I hope you enjoy. I was 12, by the way...in March 2008...

...That's almost a year ago now...

Spirit - Sound the Bugle

^_^ I love these songs to pieces...not to mention the cartoon...

Footsteps of Angels:

When the hours of Day are numbered,

And the voices of the Night

Wake the better soul, that slumbered,

To a holy, calm delight;

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,

And, like phantoms grim and tall,

Shadows from the fitful firelight

Dance upon the parlor wall;

Then the forms of the departed

Enter at the open door;

The beloved, the true-hearted,

Come to visit me once more;

He, the young and strong, who cherished

Noble longings for the strife,

By the roadside fell and perished,

Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,

Who the cross of suffering bore,

Folded their pale hands so meekly,

Spake with us on earth no more!

And with them the Being Beauteous,

Who unto my youth was given,

More than all things else to love me,

And is now a saint in heaven.

With a slow and noiseless footstep

Comes that messenger divine,

Takes the vacant chair beside me,

Lays her gentle hand in mine.

And she sits and gazes at me

With those deep and tender eyes,

Like the stars, so still and saint-like,

Looking downward from the skies.

Uttered not, yet comprehended,

Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,

Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,

Breathing from her lips of air.

Oh, though oft depressed and lonely,

All my fears are laid aside,

If I but remember only

Such as these have lived and died!

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow