Full Moons.

We're going in circles, but dizzy's all it makes us.

The strangest thing about sleeping tonight

is how you will be too.

The strangest thing about tonight's moon

is that we will both see the same one.

The strangest thing about the smell of the rain

is that it will smell the same to the both of us.

How can we be so close, in so many ways,

how can we be so far apart in all the others.

The strangest thing about my memories of us

is how different they will be.

The strangest thing about the way I feel now

is how much you don't feel the same.

The strangest thing about my salty cheeks

is how you never saw them in the first place.

How could we have been so close, in so many ways,

to have been so far apart in all the others.

The strangest thing about you

was always how you felt about me.

The strangest thing about me

was never how I felt about you.

The strangest thing about us today

is how alike it is to how we were then

love always, laura elizabeth.

June '13.

I have the emotion to write poetry, really, I do. I have the vocabulary and I have the knowledge, at least I seem to think I do, which is all that really mattered anyway. I lack the phrasing. I lack the metaphors. I know enough about good poetry to recognize it and be jealous of the author, but I don't know enough to actually write it myself, I end up trying something like this until I inevitably get frustrated. The words necessary to capture you elude me, and it's frustrating, but I'll keep trying, because I really do know enough about poetry that I should be able to write it well by now.

I think it's funny that last November I hadn't done Ballet in five weeks and I almost quit, but now I have three toenails falling off and more blisters than I would prefer because I was just the lead in Snow White. I think it's funny that a year ago, I was thinking about how two years previous to that I had my first kiss and since then I had fallen in and out of love with someone new. I was wrong, of course, I was still so very deep in the trenches of World War Mitchell a year ago from right now. I know I really am free now, though, because every other week the same thought floats to the top of my mind that says, "Remember when we were in love?" It's not accompanied by feelings of sadness, either. It's not accompanied by much, really. It's just accompanied with some lines of songs and seven digits that are as persistent as the sun. But it's no point, really. Where we used to struggle to stop talking to each other, we now struggle to continue. We can't have a lasting conversation to save, well, anything, really. This isn't to say that there are hard feelings between us. This isn't to say we don't care. This is just to say that we've truly moved on. It shouldn't be allowed to move on as far as we have, because we've moved on so much that we've almost moved back in, and isn't that a disaster waiting to happen.

The problem is, I'm waiting for love. I'm waking up and telling myself that I have more than enough love to supply a third world country, and then I'm going to sleep telling myself that maybe the sun will bring more opportunities. I can't keep living based on the sun, guys, because it's Summer and I'd much rather have the starlight in my eyes. But that isn't the problem here. The problem is, I'm waiting for love, and love doesn't come to those who wait for it. Love sneaks up unexpected, when you're too busy splashing around in the ocean, when you're too busy buying otter pops from the local neighborhood kids, when you're too busy doing your online classes because you're too good of a student not to. It's not that I'm not doing those things, but I never let my back be fully turned in case Love decides to make a visit and I might miss it if I'm not watching out for it. I know this isn't how love operates, but I also don't know this at all. Who am I to say that's how it happens? I know She Will Be Loved, I know it forwards and back, but when will I Be Loved?

Boys go on missions. I go to Target. C'est la vie.
~laura elizabeth

Wake Me Up When September Ends.

And boy, am I waking up to a crazy week.

 

 

Life comes at you fast

sometimes, you just need to blink

and let the world change

 

Summer turns to fall

like sunlight will turn to clouds

the rain that will drop

 

And now he's leaving

no one said it'd be easy

I will miss him so

....

 

Lize, this is for you

because I think you're lovely

thank you for reading

 

Mattie, Melissa,

Kelsey, Taft, Teddy, Gretel

And of course, Clark, thanks.

 

Life comes at you fast

but I think we can keep up.

Love always, Laura.

Star Dust.

So I went on a sabbatical, or a hiatus,

but whatever you call it,

I'm back now.

 

 

I saw a shooting star

as it fell down to the Earth

when I took a closer look

it burst

 

I heard a shooting star

as it fell down to the Earth

when I tried to close my ears

it burst

 

I felt a shooting star

as it fell down to the Earth

it singed your skin right off me

and it burst

 

When I saw the falling star,

I would've tried to save it

but I heard the cries

echoing

I felt the vibrations

ringing

and so I let it burst

 

love always, laura elizabeth

 

The Weeping Willow's Melody.

Take this sinking boat

and point it home

we've still got time

You are every sad song

You are half an hour after rain

You are the shadows after a Summer day

You are the hummingbird trapped in a window

You are three in the morning on a school night

You are the last day of a performance

You are old pointe shoes

You are stepping on a scale

You are coming home from a vacation

You are the clouds passing

You are the harmony

to the Weeping Willow's Melody

And you are the favorite song that ends

love always, laura elizabeth.



Dreams of Sunshine and You.

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

But here's the thing, I dreamed a dream

I dreamed a dream of the pool

and I dreamed of red hair,

[actually, I dreamed of hair in general, as usual]

and I dreamed of skylines,

and I dreamed of zebras and funny faces,

I dreamed of a blonde mane of not just hair but of her words,

she says they're gone but they aren't

and I never had any anyway, so she shouldn't worry

but here's a good vibration anyway.

I dreamed of people,

and how to let go,

and how to hold on,

and how to do everything in the middle, too.

I dreamed of pounce-ing.

I dreamed in cards, people,

I dreamed in kings and queens and aces,

and I was the little black joker,

and you were the red 8.

I dreamed of cracks;

of sidewalks and my kindle

and the sky, too;

Mostly I dreamed of you.

Remember the beauty from last post? The beauty I have?

I don't care what you believe, for all I know you have it right.

But the beauty I have in my is my little piece of God.

And the reason I know you are beautiful is because you have a piece of Him, too,

because we are actually all God and everything is God

and really God is just the energy that connects us all to each other and everything.

[it's called Pantheism.]

So sorry for when I yell at you to stop littering,

because really,

I'm just giving back.

Addy, when you find your words [they wouldn't go far]

feel free to loan some to me.

love always, laura elizabeth.



More Poetry, I'm a Regular Poet?

Symphony


a pond at night


full of magic, reflected,


untouchable


but so close-


you stick a toe


in the middle of the moon,


it's cold,


you get used to it,


you stick a finger in


a couple stars,


it's cold


you get used to it,


pretty soon you're


three feet under and


unable to escape


all because


you wanted to touch


the moon

love always,

laura elizabeth.

A Final [for English] [but me, too]

The Spots of a Leopard

How many fireflies does it take

To fill a mason jar?

I don’t have any fireflies

I don’t have any jars

But how many, hypothetically?

How many stars could you count

In only one hour?

I don’t have the eyes

I don’t have the time

But how many, hypothetically?

How many pages would it take

To fill up a life?

I don’t have the books

I don’t have the days

But how many, hypothetically?

How many hours does it take

To love and let go?

I don’t have the chances

I don’t have the patience

But how many, hypothetically?

And How much love does it take

To fill up a heart?

Literally,

It stays the same size,

Theoretically,

It’ll never stop growing,

How does it fit?

Hypothetically,

How will

It

Fit?

*

In other words,

Nothing can always be easy,

and I still love you.

So that's hilarious.

love always, laura elizabeth.

Dance is eternal heaven.

Dance is everything.

Everything is dance.

Play on words,

jumping back and forth

is dance.

My feelings are dance.

Your smile is dance.

The ocean is dance.

The world is dance,

Dance is the world.

Dance is children's laughter

and poetry.

Dance is everything;

Dance is words

and feelings

and thoughts

and people.

Dance is it all;

Dance is physical

and mental

and emotional.

Dance is the comforting hand

of your mother

when she heard you cry in the night.

Dance is the tears that flow in silence.

Dance is the eyes

connecting carefully

and the lips

brushing softly.

Dance is the paint on the walls

and the grass under your feet

and the sky above your head

and the air that you breathe.

Dance is the sun

and the moon, and the stars

and the dreamcatcher

above your pillow.

Dance is the books you read

and the kites flying high

and the faces of your friends

and the shoes that you tie.

Dance is summer

and winter

and spring

and fall.

Dance is the other side of your pillow

and the last petal of a sunflower.

Dance is the eyelash

on your cheek.

Dancers laugh

dancers sigh

dancers smile

dancers cry.

We are all dancers.

Dance is life,

and life is dance.

danser est vivre,

et vivre est danser.

Love, Laura.

Happiness is finding a random message on your phone that says you're amazing from a truly wonderful friend. ....and taco bell.

The little ways my dear friend Kelsey [at least, that's who I think it's from] shows me what she thinks of our friendship warm my heart and make me smile.  Take a moment and share in the happiness that you have friends that care about you like I doubtlessly do.

Anyway. . .

I decided I will write something similar to what I wrote last year.  I thought I'd tell all y'all in case you ever wanted to ask me if you could read it.  The differences will definitely be great-for instance, I doubt this one will mainly be about blaze and how he made last summer a soap opera.  We'll see what happens.

My aspirations to write every night quickly pummelled into the ground. Ehhh.  So did my hopes of not sleeping past ten this summer.  I think it's justifiable to sleep till noon if you can't get to sleep until three, though...right?

some are bright,

some dark.

some flutter,

some sink to my feet.

these butterflies

you give to me

that i am aware of every time

i see you

or you text first

they don't let me forget.

some remind me that

we could be the best pair there's

 ever been.

others remind me of the

low chance of it happening.

sometimes, they jump into my throat

immediately obstructing any sound or word

i wished to say.

sometimes, they pull my heart down to my toes

when i see your name on my phone.

sometimes, they take control of my fingertips

forcefully attempting to get my feelings across

to you, in the medium of text.

i manage to stop that just in time, though.

they tug on the corners of my mouth up

when you say a trademarkedly sweet thing to me

they tug on the convers of my mouth down

when i look at my phone and see that approximately

two hours and forty three minutes have gone by

with you clearly not remembering my existence.

these butterflies,

they think they have

my crush in the bag

they whisper hopes and doubts

in the dark of night

these butterflies,

they wonder

if they have friends

in you, as well

you give me butterflies...

do i,

possibly,

maybe,

hopefully

give you some too?

love, laura