The Sweater


You used to have this sweater
Once upon a time
It was worthless, you assumed
Not even worth a dime

The thread was a little unraveled
And faded from the sun
The style was from years ago
The hem was coming undone

You hated the thing, you called it trash
Worthless, so you say
You kept it hidden in your closet
And finally threw it away

Years later, I happened upon it
Lying in a pile
The pale colors caught my eye
And I loved the vintage style

It needed some work, I will admit
The fabric was frayed and old
But after only some minor repair
I realized it was gold.

The very first time I tried it on
In front of the mirror, I stood
The image took my breath away
I’d never looked so good.

It’s comfortable in any weather
And it’s the perfect fit
Whenever I go out, people
Stop to admire it.

Now I get flattering looks
Everywhere I go
People love this old sweater
They all want one of their own

But now that you see how good it looks
And what you threw away
You’ve decided that you want it back
But things don’t work that way.

You imagine yourself wrapped in its warmth
Comforting from head to toe
You can want it all you want
But I’m not letting it go

You can’t have the sweater back
It’s not something you can take
You didn’t see the value in it
I won’t make the same mistake.

Minute Poetry

The Minute Poem is a rhyming verse form consisting of 12 lines of 60 syllables written in strict iambic meter. The poem is formatted into 3 stanzas of 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4 syllables. The rhyme scheme is as follows: aabb, ccdd, eeff

So here you are, lost and alone
You’ve turned to stone
You’ve lost your place
You fell from grace

And who can undo what you’ve done?
Where is the sun?
Who calls your name
So wrought with shame?

Come here, my love, sit by my side
I’ll be your guide
I’ll be your voice
Make me your choice

The Wandering Kind


You have made my life complete
Love, for me, is redefined
You’ve given me the chance to fly
But I’m the wandering kind

I don’t stay in one place for long
I cannot stand to feel confined
I yearn to fly, to run, to roam
For I’m the wandering kind

Don’t worry, love, when you see I’m gone
For I’ve left my heart behind
To keep in your care until I return
For I’m the wandering kind

Jumping on that Poetry Bandwagon

Seems like the poetry bug has bitten a lot of people today, so why not? Also, now I’m up to my absolute favorite type of poem in my Poetry Challenge, so I didn’t want to wait to post it.

Kyrielle poems (and Kyrielle sonnets, since they’re practically the same damn thing) are consisted of 4-line stanzas. Each line is 8 syllables written in iambic pentameter with the last line of each stanza repeating. Sonnets are 3 stanzas, and the last couplet is the first line repeated and the last line repeated. Rhyme scheme is either aabB, ccbB, ddbB, etc. or abaB cbcB dbdB, etc.

I like the sonnet form better, simply because, well, just because. I literally have dozens upon dozens of these cluttering up my computer. I’ll save you, the masses, and only post the two most recent ones.

It is a dark and lonely land
Yet here you come to take my hand
Your heart, the place for which I yearn
And to that place I shall return

A dream, as such unknown to me
Of dancing, flying, falling free
This fire inside now starts to burn
And to that place I shall return

A rising sun paints me with dew
And through it all, I’m bathed anew
Towards your dawning light, I turn
And to that place I shall return

It is a dark and lonely land
And to that place I shall return


Two angels down with broken hearts
And searching for the missing parts
And giving all for true love’s sake,
In this, a new kind of awake

We walked through life lost and alone
Our broken hearts turning to stone
Ignoring that horrendous ache
In this, a new kind of awake

But now it seems we have the chance
To break the chains, be free, and dance
Our life is now our own to make
In this, a new kind of awake

Our love was born when Time began
And broke the laws of earth and man
Our love can make the mountains quake
In this, a new kind of awake

Two angels down with broken hearts
In this, a new kind of awake

Yes, I know the last one had 4 stanzas (gasp!). What can I say? I’m a rebel. Got the black leather jacket and everything.

My Face

He wishes I were someone else
A distant memory he tries to hide
He wishes mine were a different face
A secret love lingers inside

I want to believe his beautiful lies,
That he’s the one to set me free
He cannot hide the truth in his eyes
It’s not my face he longs to see

This realization grows each day
As every kiss can tell
And every time he looks my way
I’m thrown deeper into hell

It’s not me he holds so tight
When he closes his eyes
It’s not my face in his dreams at night
But it’s my heart broken by his lies

So here I am, alone and cold
Once again, fallen from grace
The saddest story ever told
Is written all over my face.

Some background info:

So I decided to post this after a conversation today with my younger sister, in which she half-jokingly made the comment that I’m incapable of real human emotion.

I don’t think she’s completely right, but I can’t with any honesty say she’s completely wrong, either. Things are often muted, and I have the unique ability to distance myself from my emotions, even turn them off. Insecurity, being unsure about myself or my decisions, and (especially) vulnerability are not things that surface often, and even when they do, it’s relatively easy (most times) to push them back away. Insecurity, indecision, and doubt help no one, and have no place in my life.

But my sister’s comment, and the context in which it was used, struck a chord. Not necessarily a bad chord, but a deep one. And I decided to dig up a couple of old poems, particularly ones written about loneliness and sadness, to remind myself of the way I felt then, to remember what it was like to experience an emotion strong enough to inspire those words. I even found this poem I’d written near the beginning of my relationship with kazander, and have decided to post it, partly to show myself that I’m still capable of vulnerability (and what’s more, letting others see such vulnerability). See, I’m human too.

Hehe well, sometimes.