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Cinderella
Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.
IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.
Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun     /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone
Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu
i got flowers oncei am lonely.
i received flowers once
and i placed them
in a vase til
the petals all browned
desiccated
and turned to dust
on the glass of my bureau.

i have never gotten flowers since.

i spend my days
with a boy
a man
whom i love far beyond reason
and he holds me in his arms
and holds me together.

i bite my nails
and pull my hair
over the moment when he
inevitably
feels the disenchantment
fall over his body,
all clean lines
and smooth shapes,
and realises that leaving
the worst thing
would be
the best thing.

i am lonely
and even with a hand to hold,
and even with a cloak of security
bunching around my shoulders
and hiding my thighs,
i feel
moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.
L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
Saving myself
Being who
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that
Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do
Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they  thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk  in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013
Broken Birds and Stark PhrasesWe slip and slide and fall
down curves and carrow places.
We cursive at the wall
in our undefinéd spaces.

Disjointed limbs extend
to strumpet our arrival,
to warn who are not friends
we will kill to survive all.

Hung upside-down haunters
hug branches in the Forrest.
Merry nightmare monsters,
Cheery snarling chorus,

Arachnic children know;
you can run but you can't hide
from this disparic truth,
darkness waits for you inside.

Although you seek the sun,
as all creaky spinsters might,
the night can't be out done
and it has you in its sight.
field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.
blood-red wine and skeleton jazz i.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.

ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled
MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee
van houten must be godi. you know how in embroidered cloth,
from the bottom under the design,
all you see are knots? her honey-like,
crying
voice lulls me to sleep,
that's what we see of God's plan.
just the knots. when in reality,
it's the design on top;
beautiful and flawless that He
has in store for us.
bullshit.
i learnt that word
when i was three
but every time i said it,
my face hurt and mom's hand fell.
God will put you
in hell.
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
misconception.
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
a crowd
of murmuring lips of
god's will.
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
could hear.
if you truly are
what they say for you to be,
then there are no secrets
between you and me.
mother still sings
the same songs
in the rain, hoping
you'll hear her the way
i thought you would.
but she doesn't know you died long ago
with chiv
The PoetFor the work of a Poet to be truly appreciated
he must write it with his own blood and tears for ink
his soul the sharpened quill to nail the words
like so many specimen of unwilling insects upon the paper.

And once he has bled out
becoming the cause of his own demise
the reader is left behind to digest his soul
so plainly trapped within a cage of words
his requiem written as a love song to his Muse.
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More from ~GoddessofLight1985

As I Lay Dreaming As I Lay Dreaming

As I lay dreaming,
The world falls away -
Into glorious rapture
Where oblivion plays...

As I lay dreaming,
The silence echoes into the night -
Into the realm of Morpheus we drift
Unseeing, on the river of dreams...

As I lay dreaming,
Touch is but a whisper of wind -
Ghosting across warm flesh
Caressing away the cares...

As I lay dreaming,
Know that I will never forget your kiss -
A fluttering felt in the heart
Sparks of love eternal....

Yet as I lay dreaming,
I yearn to never awaken -
For fear that reality
Would rip it all away....
Of Love Within ReachOf Love Within Reach

And in these shadows, he would follow
My hope, and my ruin;
My strength, and my weakness;
Casting light upon places
Too long denied emotion;
Bringing with him a wicked wind
That threatens to destroy
These carefully built walls around my heart
His eyes holding promises of tomorrow,
Of love within reach,
If only I would just give in...

...To the overwhelming wave that threatens to consume....
Liberty. Liberty.

I'm waiting -
To once again see the sun;
To feel the light of the moon,
To be brought back to Life....

I've been wishing -
Hoping secretly in my heart
For a happily ever after
That I could call my own...

A sweet ache that resides within;
Reminds me of what once was -
Before I was held prisoner,
Under graying skies...

Break these chains.
Set me free.
These dreams are waiting to be realized -
Stare into my soul....
Until The End of Time Until The End of Time

Take my hand..
Take my heart..
They are yours to have -
Just say you'll be mine...

We connect, you and I,
Across thousands of miles -
Between us there is no great distance
That would tear us apart...

Fate brought us face to face,
Love kept us closer -
Our passion is fire;
That will never be extinguished...

Threads are being woven
We're drifting along together;
Soon to be intertwined
Among the stars...

...Until the end of time...
Falling Head First (Into Denial) Falling Head First (Into Denial)

I try so hard to deny this feeling
Knowing that perhaps it will never be
...Kills me...

Yet like a drug, I crave you....

I tell myself to keep on fighting,
Even when I'm in love and in over my head -
My heart is crying,
Yet my brain is determined to win..

I think this may be unrequited,
And that hurts like hell -
But like poison,
You are a toxin that I would gladly inject;
Again and again..

Why do I need you -
Like the very air I breathe?
I don't think I can remember now
How I lived without you near...

Am I foolish,
For wanting you this much?
For feeling this way?
Or am I just a fool?
Dreams Dreams

It first starts out as silence;
An echo in the darkness -
Waiting for the motions
That the heart must begin...

Soon, it grows into a symphony -
A melody that stirs the soul,
Enchants the mind,
While luring the senses...

From there the orchestra joins,
Each strain of note fluttering in the wind
A beauty of sound that none can duplicate,
Feelings once forgotten, soon remembered...

It can be the most compelling thing,
A fantasy that can twist into a nightmare;
Leaving those under its spell breathless,
Yearning for the dawn...

Then it goes to slumber in the refrains...
...Reality, once more.

Featured in Groups:

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November 1, 2010
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A Poet's Lament

:icongoddessoflight1985:

A Poet's Lament

Sometimes she wonders
    If they truly understand
The mysteries and intricacies of her heart
    It starts as one line,
One verse, one piece of soul
    Written into each poem
Making her vulnerable to the wolves
    Yet not adding that part
To stories and feelings which
    She yearns to share
Leaves her empty and hollow
    It is the curse of every writer
For with every letter of penned work
    A part is chipped away
And contributed to the tale
    Making imperfections to show
Those willing to journey with us
    As we lead them down
Down into a place few visit
    To learn the artist inside...
Yet she wonders as she writes.....

    ...The poet's lament....
:icongoddessoflight1985:
what we often feel when we write...
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:iconprideofpanem:
~PrideofPanem Aug 2, 2012  Student General Artist
It's like you were reading my mind earlier today :P
I got so inspired that I wrote a poem in response [link]
Hope you don't mind.
Reply
:iconemeraldstarfire:
Mood: Wow! !EmeraldStarFire Aug 17, 2011  Student Writer
This made me tear up...I often feel that way, as I write, that no one could POSSIBLY understand what's really going on in my mind. I once saw a picture that said that the calamity, the biggest challenge of being a write is to get what's in our minds to the screen, to the keyboard, or to the paper.

Also, when one becomes famous, their work becomes heavily criticized or scrutinized, which can lead to some serious repercussions. for the sake of the craft, we do it anyways, because we love it so much. :heart:

You're a terrific poet, I'm sure that whenever I look at this, I'll tear up.
Reply
:icongoddessoflight1985:
Mood: Love ~GoddessofLight1985 Aug 17, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
thank you very much sweetie. i consider it the highest praise indeed. :) :heart:
Reply
:iconmy-dark-desires:
Mood: Love ~my-dark-desires Nov 10, 2010  Hobbyist Digital Artist
It is like you are whispering this directly add me, don't shatter that dream :hug:
I love this!
Reply
:icongoddessoflight1985:
~GoddessofLight1985 Nov 10, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
hehe thanks darling :cuddle:
Reply
:iconlovestogiggle:
~LovesToGiggle Nov 1, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
I feel this way a lot too, especially with the poetry I've been writing recently. I still need to post it all...I have at least 11 of them. >.<
Reply
:icongoddessoflight1985:
~GoddessofLight1985 Nov 1, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
i found an old notebook full the other day myself lol
Reply
:iconlovestogiggle:
~LovesToGiggle Nov 1, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
oh boy!
I wrote all of mine in notebooks, then put them all into a powerpoint that I still add to. I believe I have over 200 that cover 6 years. A lot of my old ones are really depressing. But then I have a ton from when I decided to get fun and nonsensical with it.
Reply
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