Smiles

How is it that you can be so thankful for somebody who you meet so recently? Especially when they become the person that you needed in that instance of time. When you are blinded by your tears and you run into that motherly embrace that dries up your tears and warms up your frozen cold heart you somehow realize how much you rely on that person.

Or that smile, not a simple or fake smile that is only given to please rules made by those who only try to give out good gestures to climb a vanity ladder. Rather a true and breathtakingly sad smile that cracks your heart with its radiance of genuine energy. A smile from that person who may be at the bottom of their life ladder, but are still willing to have that goal to protect those around them.

Do you ever think about it that way? Do you ever consider that the few muscles that you use to smile could change the course of someones entire life?

Do you hear them laughing?

Have you ever sat atop a beautiful mountain and been perplexed? Not by the beauty or mystery of it, but by the question. Can you hear it? It's like the trees speak to God and taunt us with the mystery of the question. It seems as if they rumble with laughter when the wind blows by or when they drop snow from their heavy boughs. Maybe they laugh at us for the stupid things our humanities bring out in us. Or maybe they are leading us on, trying to give us hints into understanding that one question that we ourselves can't put into words. Whatever the case, I feel like they hear me and that we have an understanding. It may be silent, but it's clear.

A Dream

I felt the fear as he came gliding towards me with that breathtaking smile, I was quite terrified as his beautiful face came close to my hand as to kiss it yet he bared his razor teeth and pricked out my skin to expose one tiny hole that bled a single drop to his lips. I felt the rush of excitement and fury; a mixture of love and hate flow through him. Then he left me, cold and alone in that dry desert of lost love. When he found me again my body was ready for him. I had gathered all of the strength I thought I needed; but alas he melted all that when he brought his eyes to mine. What a beautiful and majestic meeting! He wrapped his arms around me and rocked me back and forth. His warm breath tickled my ear as he spoke sweet things to me. our hands traced each others' and clasped together. And with vengeance like the wind he was gone that fast. Slipping away into a space I couldn't enter yet the beauty of his smile was burning on in my memory.

A Haircut and Ingredients

A haircut is like a recipe. The ingredients and steps have been the same for generations, yet the finished product always tastes and looks different. The techniques and the art that goes with a cut never changes but each artist that puts their imagination to work produces something that never looks the same; just like the different tastes of fine cuisine.

Sunlight and a Chair

A colour, an emotion, a memory. The things that slowly fade to a pale tone of regret and uncomfortable friendships. All that once made life perfect and peaceful, common and familiar are now a sour taste. One that lingers and bubbles on the tip of your tongue. Maybe for a moment you catch that piece of comfortable housing for your mind; coating over your once hateful thoughts of fleeting moments past. Perhaps you spend hours sitting in that one faithful spot where you are always able to imagine that of your past. Only in this chair, where the sun hits your face at just the right second all the pictures and moments became alive again as they once were in that very place. Dancing and jumping from space to another, full of life and energy. Breathing in each ray of sunlight that flitters across their stage. These are the characters you have been searching for; the moments when your body seemed most alive and ticking. But like a colour that smears across the surface of a clean white canvas they cryout and fade to grey. Reaching their hands out as they gasp, colour draining from their cheeks. Your moments and comforts shrink and with them the sun teasingly moves right past you as if to somehow wipe your colour away until its next eerie return.

Graduation

Graduation:

is a day where we can be teenagers 
and not worry about the part that comes next.

is like giving a brownie to the winner of Biggest Loser

is a day

One that will end and begin
the same
each time
but only astronomically

let it remind us of friends
and their loyaty

let it remind us of mistakes and corrections
let it remind us of equality
of beauty
of unequivocal kindness

let it remind us; deter us
from seeing graduation 
as the "first day of the rest of our lives"

Graduation
is a day

June 12
2009

"one day only"

not

"only day one"

~KT

Emotions and Music

What is music? Is it the window into the soul of those sharing love? Does it make you want to rise up and say the things you know you need to voice? Do the notes lift your imagination to a beautiful place where only you know the path to travel?

Do the melodies make you want to write down just the perfect words so that the whole world can feel this way? The notes seem to swirl through my memories as they paint me a lovely picture of life lived and life to come. Of stories worth telling and of love worth fighting for.

The feelings that well up inside seem to never fully be expressed in a way that does them justice; like they are forever caged inside of those that feel them. Maybe one day we will learn how to free them and share them with the other poetic hearts out there. Now, I am content to know that there might be others who share my love of love.

Maybe they too are waiting for those such as I who understand the wonders of love and the poetry hardship.

Earth Speaks

When I look out my window, I see that the earth speaks. The branches of the trees gently let their arms fly out beside them in waves of greeting. I see the dust wake up as the wind carries it through that one ray of sunlight. The clouds lightly decorate the powder blue canvas sky. The wind rustles my hair; the earth speaks.

The gray sky sends messages to the earth as the snow collects. I see things being swallowed by the white of the snow as it covers our tracks. The ice slows me down as I try to hurry through my day; the earth speaks.

Yoga and the Mind

Yoga and the Mind

My thoughts are like the practice of Yoga
Free and relaxed; calm and at peace
The lines of my body create intricate patterns just like my mind with new concepts
Both weave in and out of each other; testing their limits
My feet stretch to their farthest point and then retract in protest
My thoughts race
Every thought is strained and stretched
They feel tight and unfamiliar to me; just like my muscles as they lengthen and work
The tension is released and my mind roams free for one moment
Just like my body as it takes part in relaxation of the core
My legs and arms reach out to achieve new mobility
Like my mind as it wraps itself around new ideas
My body seeks challenge and bends to new poses
My thoughts copy
Practice of Yoga makes me more comfortable
Just as continual mental debate answers questions
Both seek, both challenge, both question

Fight Abortion

If we are trying to stop abortion, we need to be willing to let our judgment go and to open our hearts and hands to those who are in the situation.

Society - Down By Two Points...

When the sun shone through the clear glass of her bedroom window, the girl could sleep no longer. The glass had recently been cleaned and although there weren't any smudges or fingerprints, the lines and streaks from the cleaner were still visible. After slowly removing her cold sheets and twisting her body so that her feet touched the floor, the girl stared out past the flowers popping their heads above her window. The rays of sun that slowly filtered through the window clasped hands with the mirror on the other side of the room and shot bright streams of colour back towards the window. Her room was cold and drafty; the same it always was on a summer morning.

When pajamas had been removed and her favourite pair of shorts and blue tank top had taken their place, this girl methodicaly pulled the brush through her hair and stopped to pick up a hair tie that had somehow made its way to the floor. She finished and quickly made her way up all thirteen sairs to the kitchen. The birds her mother loved so dearly were basking in the sun and were chirping rather vigorously, as to inform any others of the new arrival to the room. The girl didn't hear their chirps, nor did she hear the quick footsteps of her mother as she entered the room brandishing her broom and dustpan. Her mother chattered away as he carefully extended and retracted her cleaning weapon across the floor. The girl didn't hear the rustle of the bristles on the floor or the pleasant voice of her mother.

The birds were stil chirping as the girl slid her newly warm feet into her sandals while trying to enjoy the cool sweet flavour of a piece of melon. Each blade of grass that bowed under the sanals seemed to squeek in retaliation. "No!" they screamed in unison, "Don't take another step!" Their cries helped litle; the girl didn't hear them. The melon rind was soon plummeting to the ground and exciting ants and other criters who waited under it's shadow. What a feast tey would have this fine day, for only one bit was missing.

The girl thrust her sticky hands into the pockets of her shorts as she squinted in the middle of te crosswalk. A blue car nearby had flashing lights and was singing the familiar tune of a car alarm. The girl didn't hear this tu and only seemed to be focused on a grassy plot up ahead. Iron bars wove themselves around the field. They used to shine with black glossy finish, but were now rusted and grey if lucky. Her legs flopped heavily through the gates as she struggled to pick each foot up off the ground. The way she navigated herself would have made anyone assue that she visited regularly. Her eyes rarely strayed from the pebbled path ahead. The girl's heavy feet appeared to be gaining weight as she sluggishly picked each foot up, as if they were bricks. She finally reached her destination and brought her eyes to the large white cross that stuck out of the dirt. A teardrop slowly jerked itself from the corner of her eye and sloshed onto the right arm of the coss. The girl opened her lips and screamed in pain. Nobody heard her. Not one person stopped from their busy lives to check n a frightened and unhappy girl who was squeeling in frustration and agony. Nobody heard her. The girl slowly lowered herself to the ground and wrapped her hand around the cross. Nobody heard her as she rad aloud the words inscribed on middle.

"Why does the world kep rolling by while people no longer hear the cries of their neighbors? Why have people stopped listening?"

Interpretation

Do you mean to tell me...
that my opinion doesn't count
and my answer isn't right
that my interpretation is wrong
and my conversations cause a fight?

Do you look at me and see...
a girl who isn't popular
someone who dreams too much
a girl who wants independence
someone who seeks the magic touch?

Do you try to ignore me...
because I'm too much of a threat
or I try to give you a smile
because I'm someone you don't really know
or feel like getting to know for a while?

Do you want to spread rumors...
just to see what it does
or do you like making enemies by forgetting to introduce
does it feel good to sever friendship
or cut old ties loose?

Do you think that this lasts...
because all it does is hurt
and create such a big loss
because you can't get it back when you trample it
and do you think it's worth the toss?

Hostility

Doesn't it bother you when people get hostile with you? When they connect with you normally until you confront them with something that they really aren't making an effort to face? I hate it when they try to cover it up afterwards by saying that everything is alright or that they "understand" now; but that's never really the case. They might claim to have changed their minds, but it's most likely that they did that to makes things smooth over. Then they forget....

But do you? Do you really forget every time that you suffered because of the hostile answer or response of somebody else? Do you really understand where they are coming from or why they are making such a spectacular effort to sway you from your original idea or want? Do you really think that they care that much about you that they want to help you make a decision that will be the right one?

Well listen up, they probably do... Have you ever responded to somebody with the same hostility or the same judgement that is described here? Have you ever tried to get somebody to make you think the way you do or the way you want them to because it will benefit you? Stop that!! Don't you realize what your doing? You are stifling every single dream they ever acheived and taking that one white heart of hope way from them. You are snuffing out each candle of possibility and determination they light. But worst of all, you are doing the thing that you yourself can't stand...

I watch her look for something else; something i've never met or gotten to befriend. She searches and speaks out, but nobody knows how to answer. I know her and she knows me; our silent bond grows stronger with time and I yearn to understand what it is that she seeks, what she is trying to tell me. Maybe it's classified news and only those with like minds can understand...but I try and I will keep trying.

I yearn to know what hurts her or what makes her content. I want to know what she sees and what she ponders. What her thoughts are clouded with or what she first thinks of in the morning when she stretches and begins again.

They say communication is key to all relationships, yet this one is silent; void of the same words. Yet full of speech of the heart and tie unseen.

Free Yourself

Free yourself...let yourself fly above everything you've ever feared. Everything you've ever ever given up on and each thing you worry about when you wake up. Feel the air rustle each feather as you spread your wings in flight. Soar above the wind and conquer; fight!

Speech

Do you ever feel like no matter how much you say, the listener would have appreciated silence? Or no matter how much they tell you to be silent, you know they are dying to hear the aching of your heart? Why does silence separate us? Why does the absence of words take the tight grasp you're holding and unfold each finger until you slip?

Sometimes it's unfortunate that we let things go. That familiar feelings and dreams are almost foreign to us after we let them slip away. But once we pull our boots on and search the mud for those forgotten feelings it feels so good to have them back and to live them out again.