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Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

The Dust Stirs Not

Written by

Cindy Chu

Whispering footsteps

drop one drop two

scampering without direction.

A creak on the stairs,

lonely footfalls resound throughout the years.

Yet,

the dust stirs not

as phantom figures dash around.

With ghostly sighs,

tiptoes on the rug,

gleeful tumbling within doorways.

Still,

the dust stirs not.

The wind blows gently

as chimes tinkle

in a melancholy manner.

Overgrown weeds sway in a dance.

The curtains are swept open,

as the breeze flies through the open window.

By the sill,

A photograph.

Past echoes of laughter bubbling.

Yet still,

the dust stirs not.

Memories are appearing from that lone photograph by the sill. Ancient laughter is pursued throughout the empty house, and yet, nothing stirs.

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Breaking Boundaries

Written by

Cindy Chu

The damn tumult racing through my mind

making headway cracking apart my barriers,

crushing my sanity.

The monster inside of me roars,

raging to be unleashed.

Tear and bite apart my enemies

ground them to dust

with my fear and hate.

Anger manifested into a single hulking entity

ravenous for blood and flesh.

Ravens, crimson eyes

wheeling, circling up above.

Their cries, declarations of coming death and violence.

Forebringers of tragedy

the grand symphony in place.

The final oblivion shall play

and the blight will eat away existence

Nothingness shall replace

Everything.

I was really pissed off when I wrote this… At my stupid Math teacher. >:

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Drifts of Silence

Drifts of Silence

Little wisps of white float down gently.

One by one

I am enclosed in the silence,

the world holding its breath in this sacred moment of clarity.

Never have I been more connected to this world than I am now.

Falling to my knees, retribution granted,

purity amplified.

The muteness signifies the rebirth of my mind

and soul.

The sound of my next breath shatters the moment

splintering pieces of translucence.

A tear slides down my face,

sinking into the ground,

a covenant.

The sigh,

my declaration of love.

But still, the tips of coldness flutter down around me,

unaware of my revelations,

blanketing the world

in silence.

© Cindy Chu

Well, I’ve been thinking about this subject for a while. I finally wrote about it today, after taking my Spanish final, when my teachers was kind enough to let us listen to our mp3s. (: You rock Mr. L!

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Phantom Candle

Phantom Candle

Into the black night,

lighted up only by God’s rage.

A sound rumbles in the windswept heavens,

and the sky cries the tears of my heart.

I walked out to the edge of the lake,

the wind cutting my skin like a knife.

I feel it not, for the pain of my soul numbs all feeling.

I loved you.

I hated you.

And then you were gone.

No one to hold my hand in this treacherous world,

no one to wipe away my tears.

You could have saved me from myself

But now you are gone and I fall,

fall,

into the deepest chasm of darkness,

of the never ending abyss.

I try to claw my way out, try to pull myself out, but to no prevail.

I cannot do this alone.

Oh if only! If only,

you were here to guide me!

Another flash in the tempestuous sky,

and I see your phantom face.

It is you?

Is it really you?

Your touch on my skin,

makes the icy water around me warm.

Your gaze is tender and accepting.

Are you to release me from this pain?

You reach out a hand and I grasp it,

feeling its firmness in my hand.

You shall be my light in the darkness,

my candle in the eve of winter,

and you will guide me through this raging storm that threatens to consume our world…

This poem is about a person who loved. Their lover dies and they end up alone in this world. They decide to suicide, to find this person that they love in the other world. It describes the lake on a stormy night, and their soul is crying out for help. They hallucinate, and see the person’s face. They reach out and take the hand. At that moment, they actually die. It’s more like, they wanted to see the person so much, to the point that they hallucinate and follow that shadow without realizing where they are going. When they make that conscious decision to accept the person’s hand, they die.

This poem is full of pain, because of the passing of a beloved. Yet at the same time, they are relieved to find the one they love, even if it’s after death. They will go to any means to find this person. Thus, this poem is also about love. Love felt so strongly that they’ll be willing to even to through death for this person.

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The other day, a friend asked me how I wrote. I opened my mouth to answer with with some flippant response, but caught myself in time. I paused, and thought for a bit. I started explaining my process of writing, and than just emotions were spewing across the page. I realized that I REALLY had a passion for writing, and that I really like to write. At least, to write things that were inspired, and not a stupid homework assignment.

Music is a very big factor in my poetry and writing. I believe that what a person is listening to influences their emotion. Thus, sometimes I’m influenced by the lyrics, or sometimes, even just the melody of it. Inspiration strikes me in an instant, and I have this overwhelming urge to write. What to do,  what to do? There’s no paper around. I groan inwardly, only hoping that I can remember what I wanted to write. But I know the moment has been lost, and what I might write later will pale in comparison to what I might have written.

So yes, writing really helps me. Yea, the angsts of a young adolescent teenager. *rolls eyes* There was a time when I was in 7th grade and in a real slump. I couldn’t understand back then. I was quite, now that I think about it, it felt like I wasn’t really living at all. It felt like I was bipolar, hyper one instance, and depressed the next. I couldn’t really stand how dull everything felt. The thing is, with me, small trivial things may seem like big important things, especially if it’s things about the world that I couldn’t change.That’s to say…Maybe I was starting to realize the true meaning of the word “Jaded”. So one day, I just decided to write all of those emotions down. Even though I had written some before, it wasn’t really something that I considered a hobby until then. So my first poem from that moment, a snapshot of my life at that moment:

Tears of Blood

I cry Tears of Blood,

so much sorrow in this world.

All in me,

so much.

I feel I will burst.

Want to cry but cannot

for all my tears have dried up.

Want to die but cannot

for I have no courage to do so.

This world of lies,

So full of pain.

People crying.

People dying.

Why is there so much evil and hurt in this world?

Will love soothe my wounds?

Will water save my soul?

I can do nothing

but cry Tears of Blood.

There is no hope, no salvation, no forgiveness for us,

even the most pure.

For we have strayed too far from the true path,

the path we were meant to take.

And all I can do is cry tears of crimson blood.

And hope, hopelessly hoping

for our forgiveness and all the innocent left.

Such a cruel thing,

hope.

A light appears

and I cry again.

Were all those times I laughed, lies?

Tears of Blood.

This poem is pretty straight forward. I’m lamenting at how cruel the world is, and how even the best people fall because of this so-called civilization of ours. It has a very bleak and stark message. Is there no hope? There isn’t anymore, and yet even though I know that, I still can not do anything. I can’t do anything because I can’t cry, nor can I try to die.

In my “emo” poems, water is a very profound symbol and something I really like to use. Water has always been associated with hope, salvation, or death. Water has always been my favorite element. This is because water, to me, is ever flowing. It can wrap you can hold you gently, and still turn against you with the harsh hand of indifference. Water can be so beautiful and clear, or cloudy and moody. It’s unpredictable and yet water is the more gentle and forgiving out of the other ones because of the merciful death it can grant.

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