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Posts tagged ‘expression’

laced up

thoughts dance in
my mind, but
when you sneak
a glance, all you
seem to find are
two left feet, failing
to keep time and pace,
but in my eyes, i’m
writing poetry into my
movements and stringing
them up with lace

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written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: caper

fleeting

you couldn’t tell by
the way i walk, my
mind talks eloquently
in fine, poetic lines
i make sunflowers grow
from stones, and i
make silence reach for
musical tones – my mind
is crowded even when
i’m alone – full of clouds,
a turquoise sky,
burning candles
and herons fly
from somewhere
shrouded in the wintry
unknown – that is my mind,
fleeting thoughts,
long gone, yet never
left behind

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written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: bumble

a fraud

where is the truth
in your poetry
if the hues you write
with, you choose to peel
and scrape off of a
masterpiece
not of your on making
but of a fabricated,
elegant forgery

an echo with no sound

if i were to stand on the crown of a mountain
and you were to ask me to lift my voice and shout
words or sounds of some sort Read more

one day i’ll get there

one day i won’t measure myself against the
wheels turning magic formulas and spinning
dreams in my mind

i won’t find myself avoiding eye contact
with myself in the mirror

or over-thinking how i desperately need to
articulate my vulnerability to the world

and i won’t be afraid of learning to swim
so that i can trust myself from drowning
believe in my own limbs and lungs

to carry my heartbeat to a louder, more tangible place
not tucked under jackets and sweaters and sleeves
and insecurities and loneliness

i won’t look at myself so dejectedly
and i won’t climb mountains backwards
or reverse my intentions

i won’t be so numb and lethargic to the minutes
that tap against my shoulder

and i won’t fashion blocks and build walls
and tie myself to them so i can drag them inward
closer and closer

so nothing can get in or nothing can get out

i won’t allow myself to be a lost letter in a bottle
floating aimlessly at sea

i truly desire the world to see the utterly human, flawed,
and broken me

in the words i have spoken, and written, and struggle to pen
even though i feel sometimes like my breath is stuck in the wind
pipes within me,

everything is always within

and my fingers refuse to bend around the markers or pens or anything
i use in attempt to write something

it’s hard to explain that every day i’m truly fighting against
this place, for a long time i thought was hollow

but it’s not it’s full of shadows
filled with a heavy cold wind that settles along
the floors that creak under my skin

every time i try to press the tip of the pen
or the keys of a keyboard on my fingertips

people don’t realize my fingertips are really my lips
letting slip the pressurized thoughts and
imagination and beliefs i have,

these words i write are the only way sometimes i think
i can illustrate myself, to really be visible and not vanish
into vague memories

because i, one day i’ll get there
when these words will take a more audible form
and i won’t be so quiet

and i’ll be able to look into you all
one day i’ll get there and my lips, my voice
will be my fingertips

____
Thank you for reading this poem from
Reflections 2015, A Poetry Collection of Written Works by Tiny Fawns
This is a poetry compilation project featuring previously written content that I will share during periods of time when I am not available to provide daily updates. All poems from this collection were scheduled a week in advance. All comments, questions, and ping backs will receive a response once I return.

a wallflower, but not wallpaper

lost buttons
loose threads
frayed hems
pocket holes –
forever me,
sticking out
from the wallpaper
outlining the
prepackaged brain
inside your head

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written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: uniform

gulls, and the mosaics of dreams

i broke pencils with too hard a grip
as i tried to write my thoughts as if
i were chiseling them into my skull
it’s no wonder i often feel the pull
of a headache coming on, i slip
over the words, feeling a bit foolish
i imagine myself at times like a gull
making up for gloomy days
by stripping dull coastlines of
shiny litter – trying to make
the most of imperfections,
finding value in the gold
that doesn’t always glitter –
before it stashes itself away into
waves walking with the sun
before it sets and burns away
the things i forgot to write in my head
which will fade into a strange
mosaic dream, outlined
in ocean blue and sunset red
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backdated Post a Day poem for April 6th, 2017