Posted in art, poetry, writing

Time and Space

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.

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Posted in art, poetry, writing

Anything

Anything Driving in a car and it's raining. I touch all the buttons on the radio anything but talking only commercials, radio shows, white noise of Saturday mornings when you didn't quite force the body to sleep long enough. We're going to walk the mall, anything to leave the house and stir the blood, to move the mind out of the place where thinking's bad too much, too fast that it sounds like static.

I’ve eaten nothing but cookies for the past five days. That’s what happens when you make them on Christmas Eve and double the recipe because your mom told you to and end up with a full box of leftovers because you made too many cookies. I think I’ll go for a run today.

I wanted to post this poem yesterday. I’d set my intention the night before: I will write a poem on Saturday morning. But somehow I slept in and before I knew it I was out of the house, starting my day, and I’d forgotten about poetry completely. It’s a rare occurrence–me forgetting about poetry–but I’d like to think there’s some meaning behind it.

Happy Sunday!

–Leanne Rebecca

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

Trapdoor

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, twenty one pilots, writing

Ode to Sleep

Ode to SleepWhat can I say…I’m a 23 year old that’s still afraid of the dark.

Today’s poem is inspired by the Twenty One Pilots song bearing the same title. Check out their version of “Ode to Sleep” below and take a peak at the archives of all my TOP titled poetry HERE and every Saturday in the recurring series!