Tag: hope

Posted in honesty, hope, poetry

Cynical

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Cynical I wished on eyelashes until my eyes had been cried bare, fantasies drained and replaced by a brittle heart, desiccated to sawdust, the shell of trust withered with each tear lost. An errant eyelash fell to my cheek this morning. I caressed it onto my fingertip and considered the magic once bestowed to its freedom, magic as betraying as the hope that someday those wishes would come true. I let the eyelash fall to the floor, without the whispers of tomorrow enchanting its flight, brushing its absence against my skirt, forgetting the wish were ever an option.

I used to wish the same thing every time I found an eyelash on my cheek. I’d pucker my lips and let a puff of air carry my wish to the wind, where it waited, caught in stasis, never rising to fruition. I whispered the same words in my head for years, believing that if I wanted it badly enough that some force would hear me and that the one thing I always wanted would manifest.

It’s not that I believe in magic or superstition or the power of wishing on a shooting star, but I believed that having that much faith in something for that long would carry me through, that if I never gave up that somehow planets would align.

I can’t say right now that my wish won’t come true since I don’t know what the future holds, but I’ve found it more and more difficult to place faith in unrequited fantasy. I don’t like letting my eyelashes fall to the floor unacknowledged, effusing cynicism and defeat as dust coats the lash on the fall to the ground.

I refuse to give up, but it’s hard not to.

Tonight I’m obsessed with the Breaking Benjamin song “Ashes of Eden” from their new album. I’ve been obsessed with it since the second I heard it. The lyrics haunt me and I’m overwhelmed with a sense of melancholy. I feel the emotion in his voice as deeply as my own. I encourage you to listen and let it wash over you. Close your eyes and sing.

Ashes Of Eden

Will the faithful be rewarded
When we come to the end
Will I miss the final warning
From the lie that I have lived
Is there anybody calling
I can see the soul within
And I am not worthy
I am not worthy of this

Are you with me after all
Why can’t I hear you
Are you with me through it all
Then why can’t I feel you
Stay with me, don’t let me go
Because there’s nothing left at all
Stay with me, don’t let me go
Until the Ashes of Eden fall

Will the darkness fall upon me
When the air is growing thin
Will the light begin to pull me
To its everlasting will
I can hear the voices haunting
There is nothing left to fear
And I am still calling
I am still calling to you

Are you with me after all
Why can’t I hear you
Are you with me through it all
Then why can’t I feel you
Stay with me, don’t let me go
Because there’s nothing left at all
Stay with me, don’t let me go
Until the Ashes of Eden fall

(Don’t let go)
Why can’t I hear you
Stay with me, don’t let me go
Because there’s nothing left at all
Stay with me, don’t let me go
Until the Ashes of Eden fall
Heaven above me, take my hand (Stay with me, don’t let me go)
Shine until there’s nothing left but you
Heaven above me, take my hand (Stay with me, don’t let me go)
Shine until there’s nothing left but you

Good night, friends.
Love,
Leanne Rebecca
Posted in art, poetry, writing

Competition

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Competition She learned the hard way that hearts aren’t for winning, that we can fight like wild animals for the eyes of our desire’s prey, but even the fastest of cheetahs and the bravest of lions and the determined of wolves can’t rearrange evolution’s chain. Some ducks aren’t destined to fly.

Our hearts are our own to hold and our own to love. One of my good friends made the point a few days ago that 99% of all our romantic relationships will fail until one day it doesn’t. Through it all, we must always remember to love ourselves no matter how hopeless we may become at times, no matter how much we feel like the ugly duckling that no one wants.

Have fun this weekend lovies!

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Daydream

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Daydream My brain got lost in making pancakes, hands moving in autopilot, measuring and mixing without need for consciousness, the steps ingrained in muscle memory. I wasn’t in the room, hovering over the griddle, sprinkling chocolate chips. I’d floated into my future, grasping at visions of the you that doesn’t exist and how you’d tickle my waist as I flipped our pancakes. I laughed and you hugged me from behind as I piled the cakes onto the serving plate your aunt gave us at our wedding. I’m sorry you had to go before you could eat any. I wrapped them in plastic so you could have them later.

I put my iTunes on shuffle this morning and the first 3 songs that came up all had the word “daydream” in the title. I wonder how much time in the day I spend lost in my own head, making up stories and pretending like I did as a kid. We never really grow out of that. We just learn to act out the scenes inside our brains instead of with toys.

I hope you have a glorious Saturday!

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, twenty one pilots, writing

This Heart

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

This Heart She wrote her heart into a notebook, writing the beat in her secrets, infusing the lines with jagged tears, the breaks and palpitations of falling with no one to catch you. She hoped her heart would find a home in the pages, hugged by memories cast into words and stored on a shelf. But her heart refused to live only in ink, rebelling in her chest, punching at her lungs and demanding a voice more profound than poetry, screaming in severe chest pains for love.

This poem is inspired by “Before You Start Your Day” by Twenty One Pilots. It’s one of their most melancholy songs and brings me to tears just about every time I hear it. I listened to it on repeat as I wrote this poem. It requires deep introspection, allowing yourself to really feel what’s going on inside. This poem was hard to write but sometimes those are the most important ones to get out.

Sleep well, my friends.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

To Have You

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

To Have You I swallow nostalgia with the mucus building up in the back of my throat, a ball of what once was scratching as if I’d tried to take a pill without water. Behind every blink I see flashes of friendship, come and gone, the days when I never feared lonely afternoons, when tomorrow was a hopeful word, when I didn’t want to run from today and expunge yesterdays with a worn out pencil eraser, a smeared memory not quite deleted. Those were the days of club dancing, sleeping until noon, pajama parties and vodka, when none of us really cared that we didn’t have boyfriends because we had each other. I swallow the nostalgia, the distance of our cities stuck at the back of my throat, a lump growing like a tumor as we get older and farther away from the days of not caring that we don’t have boyfriends.

Today is one of the rare afternoons on a weekday that I have nothing to do. It’s in those times that I tend to think too much, thinking about every aspect of my life, and not in a healthy way. I have a habit of looking too closely at the minutes of a day, wondering too much about why I’m doing what I’m doing and making a list of all the things that are missing. I envy the people that live so carefree, loving the moment and embracing alone time with love. I wonder if they’re acting.

I hope you catch some sunshine today!

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, creative writing, poetry, writing

Sprint

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Sprint They gave me a clipboard and a shot of authority, power chased with adrenaline, to prove to ride. People asked me questions, these followers that consumed my words like salty snacks. Handshakes locked congratulations into the day that disappeared, the nibbles of a midmorning munched into crumbs of memories by the afternoon, a déjà vu of fleeting confidence. Maybe someone will remember my face despite the finish line.

This wasn’t the poem I set out to write last night, but it didn’t matter. It’s always ok to let flow take liberties and even though my intention wasn’t quite satisfied, I accepted that my initial concept was a title for another day.

Break your own rules. Happy Monday. 

–Leanne Rebecca

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

Be Concerned

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Be ConcernedThis week I’ve favored the word “melancholy,” not quite feeling sad, not quite feeling happy, not quite sure what I want, conflicted, comfortable, and on edge all at the same time. This melancholy state has allowed me to take a few moments of introspection and reflect upon my goals, my hopes, and my confidence. Hearing the Twenty One Pilots song “Be Concerned” this morning, I felt drawn to the dichotomy of the music: the sense of purity that contrasts with the raw verse of the rap. I listened a couple times, and then before even perceiving that I’d picked up a pen, I’d written a poem.

Thanks for stopping by. If you have a second, check out the archives of all my Twenty One Pilots inspired poetry and give a listen to their music below. Also, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. What are you feeling conflicted about right now?

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?

 

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Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing

Tomorrow

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

TomorrowSometimes when I need a little help in the inspiration department I ask my friends to recommend a song, and then I write whatever comes to mind as I listen to the vibe and the lyrics. “White Daisy Passing” by Rocky Votolato taunted my somber side but ultimately stimulated that crazy thing I like to call “hope.” It’s an emotion that’s easy to lose yet easy to find again with a little bravery. Anyway, give the song a listen and check back again next Sunday for my regular series–poetry inspired by music on my playlist!!

What is your favorite song right now? Send me an email at shesinprison@gmail.com or leave a comment below and I might choose your selection to inspire my next poem!