Alone

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An artist is always alone - if he is an artist. No, what the artist needs is loneliness.

~Henry Miller

A Line

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A line

Will always be straight

No twists

Or turns

No turnabouts

No curves you didn’t know

A line will always be straight.

A promise

Will always be zagged

With one end

In one way

The other

Bent back

Hidden breaches

And bends

But a line will always be straight.

A tear

Will always be hollow

Not filled

With sadness

Not brimming

With pain

Just hollow

Dark and hollow

With loss

But a line will always be straight.

A lie

Will always be layered

A thick polished coating

Of glitter and light

And never telling

Never telling

That beneath

It’s dirty

And crooked

But a line will always be straight.

So when the world

Seems bent

And wrong

And twisted hopelessly

Just close

Your eyes

And remember that

A line will always be straight.

 

By Lexie at TeenInk.com 

"After the Storm"- Mumford & Sons

And after the storm,

I run and run as the rains come

And I look up, I look up,

On my knees and out of luck,

I look up.

Night has always pushed up day

You must know life to see decay

But I won't rot, I won't rot

Not this mind and not this heart,

I won't rot.

And I took you by the hand

And we stood tall,

And remembered our own land,

What we lived for.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.

Get over your hill and see what you find there,

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew

I saw exactly what was true

But oh no more.

That's why I hold,

That's why I hold with all I have.

That's why I hold.

I will die alone and be left there.

Well I guess I'll just go home,

Oh God knows where.

Because death is just so full and man so small.

Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.

Get over your hill and see what you find there,

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.

Get over your hill and see what you find there,

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

"The Plane Ride Home"- A Poem

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I was the one who saw her.

No one else even noticed.

They didn’t even pause to see,

How insanely sad the image was.

The woman next to me was

Letting the darkness consume her,

That is why she didn’t catch it.

Her parents didn’t see her either.

We were thousands of feet up in the sleepy night sky, and yet,

No one even so much as glanced to see how it

Made me almost want to cry.

This little girl, she was sitting behind me,

And was entirely too busy with her cold,

Meaningless,

Stupid,

And battery-filled device.

Her window was open too.

I think that was the saddest part.

Here, inches away from her ear, was this vast sparkling wonder.

Under us was this landscape,

Which only birds and God normally see.

She didn’t even stop to look.

I think I cried to the window,

I can’t remember clearly though, because it was late and there was sleep in my eyes.

I do remember wanting, aching, to take her hand and point to the glass

And say:

“Look.

Look at all the glimmering lights!

They are twinkling for you.

Even thought you don’t care for them,

They care for you.

I promise.”

"The Rug"- A Poem

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I look at the rug

Lying limply

On top of the open air vent.

It reminds me of

Lungs

Struggling to get a taste of oxygen.

I think to myself,

That if the rug can live

With people trampling on it every day,

Their feet

Pushing down on

Its bursting bubble of air supply,

Why can’t I?