New Blog

Hey everybody! So, you may or may not know this, but I'm very into witchcraft. I don't know if I fully believe it's real not; I'm kind of unsure at the moment. But that doesn't change the fact that it's hella fun to do!

I've always been intrigued and amazed my witchcraft, and hopefully you will too. Even if you don't believe in it, it's still an entertaining hobby.

On this new blog I will post new spells and potions daily. Check it out at: witchcraftnerd.blogspot.com

-Fireball123

Spring

This is my small attempt at haiku :) Never really done it before, so here you go!


Flowers are blooming
Bursts of colors come alive
Sweet smells around us!

Rage by Barlee101

This poem is not mine. I found it on Booksie.com under the pen name of Barlee101. I asked the writer if I could use it and she said yes :). I connected with the words, and I've felt this anger many times before. It is a bit disturbing, but the best poems are.


My rage burns,
like a cigarette left on a drape,
My anger bubbles,
like salted water in a heated boiler.

I am about to overflow,
I am about to explode.

You do not understand,
you do not understand me,
what I am about,
who I am.

Who am I?
I have explained it to you.
Over, and over, and over again,
Yet you ridicule it.
You ridicule me.

You embarrass me,
anger me,
sadden me,
make my inside feel like a ticking time bomb.

My face feels hot,
my heart speeds up,
the blood in my veins is pulsing.

I see you,
sitting there,
you look so innocent.

All I want to do is hurt you,
punch that little face of yours,
pull all that perfect hair out.

You smirk that little smile at me.

I cannot take it anymore,
I release a scream,
I stride towards you,
knocking everything out of my way,
I grab your face with my fingernails,
I rip out your precious locks.

You yell for help,
people panic,
they try to pull me off you,
but I refuse.

I slap you,
hit you,
your skin is bruised,
your eyes half closed,
for you cannot take it anymore.

I have exhausted you,
but the adrenaline does not stop,
I do not stop.

I hit you,
again, and again, and again, and again.

You do not fight back anymore,
you lay there and take it.

You? Take it?
Impossible.
You lay there,
your expression in anguish,
it does not change.

You are not breathing,
what is wrong?
I call out your name.
I call it out again.

I fell your chest,
that is now purple because of my beating,
I feel a small beat,
no louder than a tap,
slowly slow down.

Your face is motionless,
I realize what I've done.

My legs shoot me up,
people try to grab me,
people try to sustain me,
but I am too strong.

I run away,
I run away as fast as I can.

Plagerism

It was recently informed to me that some of my poetry can be found on a website called "poemsforfree.com". This raised awareness in the person that I had stolen some poems. I can assure you that all my writing is 100% mine. I would never, ever, in a million years steal. 


This "poet", named Nicholas Gordon, is a 70 year old man from Albany, New York. I have already sent a complaint to his e-mail, webmaster@poemsforfree.com.


I will also be sending a letter to him in the morning, his address is:


Nicholas Gordon
PO Box 3043
Fort Lee, NJ 07024


The reason I am giving you this is because he has posted many poems; over 50. I sincerely doubt they are all his. So if he has stolen any of your poems, I'd suggest writing him a letter immediately. 


Plagerism is a big deal in my book. I just want to make sure that people know that the stuff on this site is genuine and mine. As the person that told me about Nicholas Gordon said, "Stealing isn't cool."

World Poetry Movement Contest! :)

I just heard that the World Poetry Movement is having their annual poetry competition a little early this year. The prizes are much bigger and better this time.

They will be picking exactly 116 winners. They will notify them by e-mail. You could win from $1,000 to $250,000. I have entered this contest many times and unfortunately I have never won. I am more confident in my writing skills this time, but there are millions of participants nationwide, so it can get pretty competitive.

I hope everyone enters and best of luck!

The Way I Feel For You

I know that you don't feel for me
The way I feel for you.
We're good friends, I value that,
There's nothing you need do.

But as a friend I need to tell you
What is in my heart.
An unsaid truth is like a wall,
Keeping us apart.
My love for you will go nowhere,
Will just remain with me.
I'll hold it in my quiet arms
And feel it constantly.

The Pain That Will Never Go Away

The pain will never go away;
The wound will never heal.
The evil that was done to you
Is now your eyes, your heart.
The black will never turn to gray;
The blood will not congeal.
The violence is never through;
The past does not depart.

Time will merely make you whole,
Consuming what you are:
Part sufferer, part comforter,
Part victim, part new song;

Part mother of an angry soul,
Part child of despair,
Part witness and part conqueror
Of all that did you wrong.

Diversity

I believe,
that diversity is a part of the natural order of things
-as natural as the trillion shapes and shades of the flowers of spring
or the leaves of autumn.

Daddy's Womb

I asked my father if I could swim,
and he said that I would drown.
The Sea would imprison me – he said
if my feet had left the ground.

So I walked out to the water,
and cried out – "How ’bout now?"
He said, "A little bit further,
and then you’ll leave the ground."

I stepped on sand then stone,
from hollow ground to sturdy.
The sky was at my level as I
gazed at the birdie.

The Sea brought me a new idea,
the urge to flee to the high.

I asked my Father if I could fly,
and he said, "Sure, go ahead and try."

I jumped as high as I could.
Still, I landed on the ground.
I saw my Father pull on a chain,
then I knew that I was bound.

If A Snowdrop Doesn't Bloom

The world may never notice
If a snowdrop doesn't bloom,
Or even pause to wonder
If the petals fall too soon.

But every life that ever forms,
Or ever comes to be,
Touches the world in some small way
For all eternity.

The one we longed for
Was swiftly here and gone.
But the love that was then planted
Is a light that still shines on.

And though our arms are empty,
Our hearts know what to do.
Every beating of our hearts
Says that we love you.

The Smallness Of Me

The niggling worms of self-doubt bore their way into my brain.
My insecurities ferment and take flight,
like winged crows cawing shrilly in the gray air,
wanting someone to take notice of my flight,
leaving only a trail of spent feathers in my wake.
I fly alone, shunned by my kind.

My avian fellows do not crane their feathered necks
to take note of my loop-di-loops and figure-eights.
It impresses no one other than me.

The urge for attention shames me.
I duck behind a cloud.
Despair plagues me and I weep.
Dusky tears shed for mine own sake.
And I'm filled with the smallness of me.

The Sky Above My Home

Your friendship is the sky above my home,
The crystal air I breathe, through which I see.
I can't believe how much you mean to me.
Without you with me, time would turn to stone.

I don't know why I need you so, or how
I know so absolutely I'll be there
In times your wounded heart can hardly bear.
I only know this truth is with me now.

Why is it in our lives that we need friends
To be awake and fully what we are?
Alone we dream but never cross the bar;
With you I share a grace that never ends.

What Is Fear?

It is murky, it is mystifying that feeling
It makes you wonder how dark it is within
Dreadful to think it is not healing
And it is eating you utterly and you cannot run
Away from it, it is not a thought
It is in fact a feeling you have developed…
Hoping it would fade away, it won’t
It needs to be dealt with, to be conquered
You cannot run, you cannot bury it inside
It will devour you and leave you hollow
I cannot tell what to do, you need to decide
Will you face it or will you hide in the shadow
You won’t feel alive till you see it bright and clear
What you are feeling, is something called fear.

Pixie Dust

I wish this poem were pixie dust
To throw into your eyes
And make you see the loveliness
Beneath my sad disguise.
And I would take you in my arms
And weave a magic spell
That I could utter anytime
To make you love me well.

But alas my simple words
Are like summer rain
That drums on hills and fields and hearts,
Then vanishes again.

And though my love might make you bloom,
You turn with fragile grace
To gaze in aching loneliness
At someone else's face.

We lust for what we cannot have,
A long, unbroken chain
Of lovers who remain unloved
And loved who love in vain.

While I'm near mad with wanting you
As trees must have the sun,
You cannot help but find a love
Who loves another one.

The Night I Tried To Kill Myself

The night I tried to kill myself
You came into my room and wept
For me. The beauty of your longing
Held me like a plaintive song.
You came into my room and wept,
Suffering my suffering,
And held me like a plaintive song
Till I myself became your sun.

Suffering my suffering,
You taught me well the source of pain
Till I myself became your sun
Shining on the world back home.

You taught me well the source of pain:
For me, the beauty of your longing,
Shining on the world back home
The night I tried to kill myself.

I Cannot Think That

I cannot think you're not alive somewhere.
I think of you just as I did before.
No sudden gust of wind has closed the door
Or made your presence vanish in thin air.
I write you this because I know you're there;
That even after death there must be more.
So does faith one's inner sun restore
After bitter darkness few can bear.
My mind and heart have not yet lost a friend
Even though my senses are bereft,
For you remain the witness of my soul.
No mere accident our love can end
So long as I have will and memory left,
And you lie silent on some unknown shoal.

Hours In The Sun

Love needs its hour in the sun
Or like a flower it will fade.
But happiness depends upon
The proper mix of light and shade.
Or like a flower it will fade
Into the wall of unpicked dreams.
The proper mix of light and shade
Takes more courage than it seems.

Into the wall of unpicked dreams
Love fades, afraid to speak. This poem
Takes more courage than it seems.
You're fading, too, when you come home.

Love fades, afraid to speak this poem.
But happiness depends upon
Your fading, too. When you come home,
Love needs its hour in the sun.

Evil Has No Easy Explanation

Evil has no easy explanation.
Everyone is evil and is good.
Sometimes we watch ourselves do something evil
Frozen in a scream that's never heard.
We cannot stop ourselves, so we go on,
Knowing somewhere else the horror plays
And plays and plays until we are forgiven,
Healed by someone's gift of unearned love.

When someone has been tortured as a child,
Evil, like a mad dog, crouches near.
One buries it deep in a vaulted, lead-lined chamber,
But zombie-like it stalks the world within.

It's strange that darkened children need forgiveness
For evil that they suffer, innocent.
But guilt's the trademark of humiliation,
Burned into the flesh of memory.

Love washes over evil like an ocean,
Sweeping over seething, fisted anger,
Drowning it in cold, unquiet depths,
Leaving you weak and weeping on the strand.

You wouldn't be yourself without the pain
That twists inside like penitential dancers,
Making you the stage of some strange beauty,
Like no one else, the host of our redemption.