Writing Woes

I miss English class already. I should've taken an English class this semester. Oh, well.

I also miss Shakespeare. Let me just get this out of the way so you know who I am. Hi, my name is Dani, and I am a Shakespeare addict. Well, technically my name isn't Dani, but otherwise that was the truth.

I have a copy of Macbeth, which is my favorite of all his plays, but that doesn't tide me over.

I've been doing some cleaning and found some of my old poems from when poetry was my main writing focus. I thought I'd share some of it with you all.

Subtle Distortion

chaos personified in cold eyes
from the point when only dissolution remained.
Luminescent aura,
only seen in dreams now beam,
through the seams of paper thin walls.
Rose buds peep through the holes
where tears once fell from cloudy eyes, cold eyes.
Single thoughts now circumscribed in pain,
written on the lips of death,
kissed by the wind and carried through the storm
into the eyes of peace.

That poem was written a long time ago. I was maybe 15 or 16. As you may have read in previous
blog posts, I suck at titling things. My friend titled this one. I don't think it goes with the content but it just stuck.

Here's a happier, sort of inspirational one.

Makeshift Wings

unworthy of your halo you sit with makeshift wings,
peering into the cloud filled sky,
past the moon unto the angels you long to be.
If you could only make that halo glow
and teach those wings to fly,
you could see the angels,
feel the angels,
be an angel,
but only in disguise.
Until you find someone upon the hill you once peered off before,
with a halo of gold,
and broken wings
you give up your makeshift wings
and let that angel soar.

That one was written before the other one so I know for sure I was 15. It is one of my favorites.

That's all I have for now.

As always,
Thank you and goodnight!