constellations of thought

the ideas 

are glimmering speckles of light

and together they make 

constellations; 

pictures of stories older than time 

depicted upon the black canvas of the 

sky. 

it's by the stars 

that I make my way through the 

moonless night; 

I'm starstruck by the dazzling lights 

that stretch before me in 

an endless expanse, 

flickering mesmerizingly before my eyes. 

and maybe, just maybe, 

if I stand on my tippy-toes and stretch, 

perhaps I can reach them 

and pull a few down 

to sift through my hands and pick 

which one to change 

into the morning sun.

today is Britain's National Poetry Day! the theme is stars, and I thought it'd be fun to do something :)

Two Clocks, Two Hearts

in the days we live, 

time is both cruel 

and kind; 

our separate clocks are ticking 

and 

washing the pain  

and our wonderful memories. 

our time together is past us now, 

our clocks tap to a different beat, 

but it was one of those moments 

where we were temporarily in sync 

that unveiled the shadows from 

my eyes and mind. 

is it strange that 

only now I see your hand 

extended to reach mine? 

maybe I blindfolded myself to you 

after we parted ways. 

a remnant of the string 

that bound us ages ago 

is still tied to you, 

much like how it's 

fastened around my wrist; 

a constant reminder. 

the burning red of the string 

is now finally 

fading in the sunshine 

that shines brilliantly in my eyes. 

I start thinking about 

the us that we can't go back to

no matter what. 

But there's no time for regrets 

or what-ifs, 

our clocks are ticking away. 

I close my eyes against the brightness 

and listen to the ticks of our pendulums 

drift towards each other. 

When they sync, 

I take your hand and smile. 

We can start a new beginning, 

a new friendship, 

and walk away from the shadows 

together.

hello there! sorry for such the long dry spell over here. 

this is based on some real life happenings... my first love and I are...reconnecting you could say, which is very easy to do since we've known each other for so long. to be honest, I'm glad, because I value the friendship I had with him for a long time. this poem was inspired by the song "Answer," which I have recently found and love. watch it at this link, I love the lyrics a lot. you'll see many references in my poem to the song.

just a little update

hi there!

I haven't been on Mindscape for a bit, sorry. school just started a few days ago, I'm writing three separate novels right now, and I've had no poetic inspiration for the last week or so.

I'm hoping to post on here again soon, either with photos or poetry.

in the meantime, come visit my novels! me and my co-authors would enjoy your readership.

until later,

-Kiki

Waiting Outside

I confess it confused me,

and hurt a bit

to know that there are still

bars between us,

that we're so close yet

so far.

"Was it me?" I asked myself,

"Am I not enough?"

But then I realize that 

no one's to fault, 

it was just the wrong time to try, 

your gate wasn't ready to open. 

I think I'll learn 

to be content 

just waiting outside, 

it's not too bad out here; 

because you are still you, 

and I am still me, 

we can chat and laugh and 

be happy together 

like we always used to be.

happy birthday to my darling, bunny and purple loving friend!!!!

a quiet day to celebrate my 15th birthday :)
just what I want.

Phoenix

The crimson ruby sun, 

a phoenix falling behind 

the veil of night, 

feathers wispy across the 

carnation and cornflower sky. 

Its lovely sibling 

wanes weakly upon the opposite side, 

smiling serenely and rising,

looking into the phoenix's eyes 

as it falls to the 

Earth and is swallowed 

by darkness. 

The pearl moon, 

the silver dragon, 

is now 

the ruler of the sky.

The Page

Blank and staring, 

daring me to fill the emptiness. 

The pen. 

Filling my blank world 

with the silky, night black, beautiful ink. 

The words. 

Sprouting like trees, 

growing into a great masterpiece. 

The poem. 

A magic spell 

to capture and hold its audience.

I was doing a major clean-up of my disaster of a room (think hurricane hit area, and you've got it), and I found a notebook with some old poems of mine. This poem, the first in the book, was kind of my gateway drug into the world of poetry. I had written it for a school district-wide poetry/illustrations contest called "Urban Voices" when I was in grade 6, and it got published. Back then, I didn't realize that this poem would open up the door and reveal my love of poetry, so I'm thankful that I managed to get the chance to write it as part of the contest :)

so it's been awhile since I've been on here.
lots of things have happened:

• I've finished my first year of high school, and summer has now officially started for me :)
• I've finished my first completed novel Alt+Control
• I've started a brand new novel with G called North by North (http://northbynorthnovel.blogspot.com) and I might be planning a sequel for Alt+Control to start over the summer!
• I've been experimenting with black-out poetry. if I can find a way to upload it to here, I will ASAP

I look forward to posting more often on here :)

I want to show you the world 

I capture behind my lens, 

what it's like to look 

through the one 

glass eye, 

all-seeing 

all-knowing. 

The Girl

The girl seems to
haunt your every thought
and dream,
to live within
your mind...

Her mere voice can
part the darkening clouds
on your horizon,
bringing in sunlight into
the dismal corners of your darkening
soul.

But whenever we

talk I can hear the

pain behind the chatter,

the pain from being

so close to her

yet

oceans away.

Her glittering sun, I’m afraid

is just a reflection upon the water.

I wish you luck,

I cannot caution you any longer

as it is too late,

your heart has been long gone…

I can only help you along

and hope.

for my hopelessly in love friend.

perhaps

the life we know 

has so many possibilities, 

filled to the brim 

with perhaps, 

peradventures 

and maybe sos. 

I wish to help but 

there's only so much 

I can say or predict 

as the horizon I see, 

is neither clouded 

by rain nor blessed 

by the sun's rays... 

the sky is clear 

and full of possibilities...

perhaps,
if you may?

sepia memories

the memories of us 

are dyed 

in sepia and 

worn around the edges 

from where I clutched them 

tightly, 

wishing that they 

weren't just things of the past. 

some have creases 

where I folded them, 

trying to compress them.

some have burn marks where 

I thought I could bring myself 

to burn them away 

to meaningless ashes. 

some have warps and marks 

where my tears fell, 

escaping the eyes 

that try to blink them away. 

but I look at them now, 

and see how the vividness has 

slowly leaked away, 

the once powerful emotions 

I had 

faded away. 

the smiling faces that 

belonged to us 

are smudged, 

and I can no longer remember what 

your loving smile looks like 

no matter how hard I try. 

so here I am, 

packing away these dull, 

faded sepia 

memories, 

it's been long overdue and I 

apologize. 

I open the book, and slip them between 

the pages, 

making a fairytale story of 

us that I can 

revisit 

whenever I wish. 

and maybe one day, 

I can look upon these 

in happiness.

"Really, he thought, if you can't trust a poet to give sensible advice, who can you trust?"

-Neil Gaiman, "The Graveyard Book."

Not One Direction

They all ask me 

where I want to go, 

they all want one direction 

and nothing more. 

But I'm not that kind of person, 

I don't just walk 

in 

a 

straight 

line, 

in a world just black and white. 

I spread my colours 

everywhere I go.

Amongst The Stars

I want to capture your essence 

and place it amongst the stars, 

where it'll stay glowing 

and shimmering, 

always watching me

and watching the world

forever.

Your body may crumble

but among the planets and universes

you'll live,

jumping and running and exploring 

to your heart's content. 

And when I'm feeling 

alone and abandoned, 

I know I would be able to 

look up at the sky, 

and know you'll be there 

for eternity.

What inspired this? I honestly don't know. This could become part of a song....

But on a different topic, I went to see the Lorax movie today. It was awesome, and I really liked it. It had a lot of Seuss-like dialogue, and many scenes and quotes are from the book, while adding a new dimension to the story as well. If you can, go see it. It might be cliche, but it's cute and heartwarming.

a whisper

the wind brings 

a promise, a taste  

of clear blue skies 

and stormy grey clouds, 

of warm sun and shimmering 

cool rain, 

of grass and trees awakening 

to a world of green. 

a promise, 

a whisper 

of spring.

sorry I haven't posted in awhile! just getting myself unwound and relaxed before heading back to school. getting beautiful weather here, perfect for the March Break! it's awesome just to go outside, read a book and soak up the warmth. also great for gathering some inspiration :)

Out Of My Head

Why can’t you get out of my head? 

I tried to banish you ages ago. 

So many times I’ve told myself 

that I’m better off without you, 

and yet you still lurk in my thoughts. 

Go away, 

you’ve already broken my heart once, 

I need time to heal. 

But maybe it’s not you in my head, 

maybe it’s me not wanting to forget.

Ghosts of Memories

These streets are haunted 

by ghosts 

of happy memories and 

shared smiles, 

turned bitter and black 

by the waves of hatred, 

anger  

and heartbreak. 

Insignificant places

suddenly have meaning.

She can't hide from them, 

the ghosts that grasp her heart 

and squeezes tightly 

until all she can feel 

is an emptiness, 

a dry numbness. 

She welcomes it.

She tells herself it's better than the pain.

She can't feel it 

when her heart is gone, 

stolen away by the waifs; 

she feels full, 

but she is only full of dark anger 

and bitterness.

Indeed she is empty, 

a mere shell of herself. 

All she wants to do is sink into the darkness 

and forget him.

I'm still like this sometimes, even though I keep on thinking I'm finally over him. Random things and places trigger memories, which just make me even sadder. Sometimes when you're heartbroken, you just need to be given time to sulk and be angry before you can heal. 

Untitled 4

Ages have gone

since I last saw you,

stones have weathered and eroded

while vines lie withered and death

along the old, crumbling walls.

I walk in to the old creaking house and see

the old rose in its old dusty vase,

long dead, only a shell

of the rose I gave to you with dewy petals

that smelled of a sweet, fragrant scent.

And when I see you,

your appearance is that of the rose,

withered and dry,

but a radiance shines through,

erasing the earthly body that is your shell,

and you become

beautiful,

a young, fresh rose.

A friend asked me to write a poem with the theme that "nature's beauty is transient, but one's beauty will never fade." 

Untitled 3

I look at you, 

and see that you are different; 

but is it really you that has changed?

Perhaps it is me.

What is Love? (Revisited)

Love is 

a whispered word, 

a stolen glance across the room 

that throws your perfectly scheduled life 

off-kilter. 

Love is 

a shouted declaration, 

a grin of joy that can 

quickly fleet into pain. 

Love is 

a small word, 

yet so powerful, 

always hand-in-hand 

with its sibling 

hate.

Something simple today. Thanks G for the cute little poem :) http://woodysmoody.blogspot.com/2012/02/poetry.html#comment-form

The Chasm

We pushed away 

our conflicting thoughts, 

too afraid that what we would say 

would push us apart, 

and yet 

it was those unsaid words

that created a crack, 

which quickly turned into a chasm 

between us.

Sorry if this put a downer on anybody's Valentine's Day! I just needed to get this one out.
Today, I read this beautiful book of poetry called "Think Again" by JonArno Lawson and illustrated by Julie Morstad. With simple, yet deeply profound poems, the Lawson is able to capture the essence of teenage romance and relationships. Here's a review by the Quill and Quire: http://www.quillandquire.com/reviews/review.cfm?review_id=6763

I wrote this as a response to this poem called "The Missing Conversation":

The crack: almost invisible, but what seems 

whole is broken--

Important words went missing 

Between two 

Who should have spoken.

the dead rose

our love was 
a single rose that we kept guarded, 

placed under a glass dome, 

hidden away from other eyes. 

we only lifted the protection when we were alone; 

a single touch, a single rose. 

no matter what we do now, that rose is now dead, 

it suffered in its sanctuary, 

in its tiny glass prison. 

I try to pick up the fallen petals, 

wishing I could breathe new life into 

our fragile, fragrant, precious rose 

but it only keeps wilting on the palm of my hand 

no matter what I do. 

we can place the petals back onto the heart with glue 

but we can't bring that rose back to life; 

our time has passed 

no matter what we do.

sometimes, that's the way love goes...

No light is not accompanied 

by shadows, 

no smile without a single tear, 

no sweet sugar without 

the bitter black pill, 

there is no death without any life. 

Night must always follow day, 

day must always follow night, 

we cannot see the black 

until we have seen the white. 

The life-giving sun always leaves 

wailing ghosts in its wake, 

the cold moon caresses the lives 

below and sends them on their way. 

The rotten, stinking things have 

a spark of light alive, 

and even the perfect beings have dark 

secrets buried inside. 

Black and white so tightly intertwined, 

that if you were to take one away, 

there'd be nothing left behind.

In English, we're analyzing poetry and making connections. The poem I chose is called "Tichborne's Elegy," written by a man in his last hours before he was executed for plotting to kill Queen Elizabeth 1. Read it here.

Window Eyes

The people around me 

are sharp, shiny, brittle and empty. 

They try to hide it by reflecting 

their surroundings. 

Empty smiles, mirror eyes. 

But you are different. 

Even now I'm surprised to see 

that instead of a hard, cold reflection 

I see a window, 

so pure and clear 

that it compels me, 

draws me into the depth of your 

very being. 

Only you with your window eyes.

This poem haunted me for a couple of days until I scribbled it out into my journal. 

Hello!
I've been dealing with a major French project recently, so I had no time to post! I've been using this cute little journal my friend gave me for the time being, but I'll certainly post ASAP

Blatant Appeal

As you may know, I was writing a novel over the winter break and I'm continuing it! But I have severe writer's block and I can't think of what happens next in the story line!
I know this has nothing to do with Mindscape, but please help.

The blog is: knnovels.blogspot.com

If you could help, that would be awesome!

Thanks :)

The trees shake their 

spindly, naked fingers 

at the ruthless grey of 

the winter sky, 

sighing as the 

bitter wind passes by 

briefly, like a single 

word spoken between 

star crossed lovers; 

a romance gone unnoticed 

for the moment. 

Hello! I am back! Hope you guys had a good holiday. So here's my first poem of the year... an ode to the snowless Toronto winter we're experiencing.
This was like a 2 minute poem created in the middle of English class where surprise, surprise, we just started our poetry unit.

I know this is kind of late but...

Happy New Year, and to all a good 365 days.