Tag: dreams

Posted in dreams, poetry

The Drive Home

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

The Drive Home Windows down in the summertime and my hair is raping my face, stuck to my tinted Chapstick, catching streaks of light as it rages in freedom’s right. Old school Greenday comes on the radio. I listen to the guitar chords, the strumming, ascertaining whether or not I can play it. Am I good enough? I think about how the volume is so loud I’d never be able to hold a conversation in the car, realize maybe I don’t want to, that I like this, just me, my blushed cheeks and dreams of becoming a rock star. —Leanne Rebecca

Soak up the sunshine. My only advice for the moment.

Love,

Leanne

Posted in dream, poetry

Cover of Dusk

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Cover of Dusk I imagined their story as I walked by their house: a couple in their early thirties one year old daughter asleep in her room the dinner party winding down inside glasses of chardonnay clinking pearl necklaces and red lipstick smudges how they’d all been friends since college. I slowed my pace as the haze of their perfection tightened in my throat, prey to the outsider’s perception: a brick walkway leading to their front door trimmed rose bushes silhouettes mingling in light cast shadows through their windows. A mosquito bit my arm, the signal to lengthen my stride, move past fantasies of someone else’s family, stop obsessing over picket white fences, the bad date I went on the night before, that it would be years, before finding that dream for myself. I walked on, cheeks soaking up the sweat and tears beading on my skin in the humidity, thankful at least for the setting sun, the cover of dusk to mask this headspace so no one would have to know that seeing their daughter’s swing hanging on a tree in their front yard made me cry.

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Time and Space

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Time and Space He grabbed my hand as we walked through the restaurant to our table. He’d never touched me like that, so declarative so suggestive of intention, as if expressing ownership. I liked knowing he’d made room in his ego for my occupancy, reading into the gesture all the way to my seat, writing futures in fantasy, imagining what would happen if he never let go. But the images crumbled jarred into nothing as I blinked away the 3 am dream, woken by the buzzing of my space heater and an empty hand, eyes refusing to adjust to the night in the absence of stars, the alignment that skipped over my heart.

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Eyelash

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Eyelash I make the same wish on every errant eyelash. I peel the escapee from my cheek and capture it on the tip of my finger, think my dream in the capsule of a blink, pucker my lips and let a single wisp of air carry it into infinity. I inhale reality when I look back in the mirror— one less eyelash to cover with mascara.

I’ve started writing in a diary. I’ve found I like the senseless entries, writing whatever comes to my mind, confessing secrets, knowing no one is ever going to read these words (hopefully). One of my favorite teachers back in college used to tell us to write for 15 minutes a day, no matter what it was. The whole point was to develop the discipline to write. I used to write lists of what I did that day or complain about my homework. But then I finished that class and the journal entries stopped.

About two months ago I started them again, maybe not every single day, but whenever I feel like it. This poem is inspired by what I wrote in my journal today during my lunch break, scribbles about it being February and how it’s the month of love. It provoked a particular memory, something profound that happened to me in a February past, and before I knew it, I’d written this poem.

What do you think of when you think of February?

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Moved

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Moved I wonder if music gets inside other people’s souls like it does mine, if it resonates as deeply, shifts their feelings, affects their physicality. I breathe vibrations of melody into my whole being, evoking memories and sentiments, implanting dreams and fantasies, living lyrics in imagined movies, crying at all the right places, gullible to the director’s verse. I become addicted to the story, listening on repeat, exhausting my ears, singing as I lose perspective on what’s real, living the performance, inventing nuances, dancing to drums, heart jolted by bass, the undercurrent that holds it all together, rounding out sound with breath. I hum the harmony, part of the choir, the life behind the necessities, so engaged in every element of the piece that I forget I’m sitting in the cafeteria at work, chewing.

Posted in art, poetry, writing

That Thing Called Trust

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

That Thing Called Trust I opened my heart to it, relinquishing power into your volition, touching my palm to yours and memorizing the comfort of unrestrained connection, allowing the circle around my fear to bend for you. I liked the way it felt, to grant you access to my sealed chest, leaving the door a little ajar, the nightlight always shining just in case you wanted to come in, even in the dark hours, in my dreams, the recesses of my head. I found faith there, faith that I was safe, that as long as I trusted without doubt this taken chance couldn’t hurt. I never expected you’d force me to flicker the light, that you’d be the one to swallow my love like whiskey, with a wince.

It’s a new week and I’m pumped to be back. I’m ready to write and so blessed to have you all here to listen. Thank you for standing by my side on this poetic journey.

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Breaking

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Breaking

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Fantasy

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Fantasy

I know Saturdays are usually my Twenty One Pilots day, but I’m a little disoriented in terms of what day of the week it is. I moved houses this week so my schedule is scrambled. Thanks for stopping by and enjoy your weekend!

Posted in art, Music, poetry, twenty one pilots, writing

Slowtown

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

SlowtownIt’s Saturday, it’s sunny, and I just ate an enormous vegan peanut butter cup from one of my favorite places in St. Louis (see my twitter or instagram for reference). What I’m getting at is that it’s a perfect time for a poetry break, especially when it’s inspired by a Twenty One Pilots song. “Slowtown” is off their Regional at Best album, which sadly, is hard to get a copy of. No matter; give a listen from good ol’ YouTube below.

Check out all my poetry titled after TOP songs in my archives and stop by again soon for more poetic musings inspired by music.

Posted in art, Music, poetry, twenty one pilots, writing

Trapdoor

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

TrapdoorThe funny thing about writing is that it’s impermanent. It’s just thoughts we cast on paper or in word processors, easily deleted or lost and impossible to recover in word for word accuracy. I wrote one version of “Trapdoor” last summer but today when I looked at it, I hated it, judging every line until before I knew it, I’d written an entirely new version. The only line that remains from the original is the first one.

This poem is inspired by “Trapdoor” by Twenty One Pilots and per usual, I implore you to listen to their music. It’s no secret they’re my favorite band. You can check out the archives of my other pieces titled after their songs in my TOP archives page and come back next Saturday for another post in the series!

Are there any bands that inspire your creativity?

http://youtu.be/-tzQxqn9Z3g

 

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Leave your comments in the dungeon.

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Addicted to Disney

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Addicted to DisneyThis one’s an oldie. I just watched Mirror Mirror, a silly take on Snow White starring Lily Collins and Julia Roberts, so it seemed like an appropriate throwback. It was published in Pastiche Magazine (a small online journal) last summer during my run as their featured poet for the month of July. It’s strange to look back at previous writings. It’s hard not to judge myself and also bittersweet to experience the emotions from a distance, especially poems that dive into dark scary places I never want to visit again. I think it’s important to look back though and see how far I’ve grown in so many aspects of my self and my work.

A question to my fellow writers:

Do you ever look back at old work and do you find it difficult to look at it objectively?

Oh, and follow me on Twitter. …please.

Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing

Distraction

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DistractionIf you’ve never tried writing under the influence of a song, I highly recommend it. Turn the volume up, hit repeat, and lose your soul for a minute as you let the vibrancy of the melody steal your physical body. Don’t just listen, but absorb. Internalize the lyrics and drum your fingers with the beat as you let your imagination run. What do you see if you close your eyes? A memory?

Write it. 

Whatever you feel, just write it.

As per my usual Sunday series inspired by songs on my playlist, today’s poem is inspired by “The Great Escape,” by Boys Like Girls. I’ve been utterly obsessed with this song for about a month. Sure I heard it when it came out years ago, but rediscovering it has deepened my connection beyond the initial admiration of dancing along to a catchy song. Anyway, give a listen below and come back again next week for another round of celebrating the camaraderie of music and poetry.

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Maybe

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Maybe

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Concealed

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Concealed