What Is It?
Johnathon D. Howard
I walked down a dark hallway with not a light to be found. The air was thick and heavy so it gave the feeling as one breathing down your back. As I walked a came across some wet and slimy; it was nasty and I knew not what it was. I kept walking, but found that it was all over spread upon the floor like butter. At first I thought maybe spilt syrup, but the stickiness of it wasn’t like that. It was more to me in the dark like blood, and I thought some kind of murder were around. I tried holding still, but could not any longer so I burst forward running hard ‘till I tripped on something hard. I looked to what I had tripped on and lo and behold it was a smashed pumpkin.
What lies beneath the surface of ourselves?
What lies in the words we do not tell?
Is it pain.
Is it sorrow.
Is it longing for acceptance.
Are there dragons beneath the surface?
Are there demons beneath the surface?
Searching for a way out.
Searching for a way above.
But maybe we are the ones beneath.
The ones beneath the surface.
The ones fighting for a way back up.
Above the surface.
The surface that traps us.
That makes us scream.
That makes us long for acceptance.
The acceptance of our dragons.
The acceptance of our demons.
The acceptance of what we are.
What we are; beneath the surface.
On the surface
You see nothing.
A lady lacking beauty
One without elegance or grace.
At a glance you find a simple girl,
No goddess perfect in any way.
Look behind my eyes,
Search every corner of my soul;
Only then will I truly be seen.
You’ll meet the girl who has nothing but gives everything for those in need
You’ll see my smile is created by a past of pain
Yet I laugh and love each and every day.
I have a heart who forgives quickly
As life is too short to hate.
In the depths discovered, you will find the friend you always wanted,
Too bad you already shunned me away.
Keep searching farther
I hold a light shining so very bright
Made only of pure love, hope, and peace,
But because of greed and those too conceited to see,
Under the surface is where my light will always stay.
Beneath the Surface
Wishes, Magic, Love, and I are all beneath the surface.
Wishes are things that fly,
Free like the wings on a Pegasus,
They run free like tigers on the hunt,
And float through the air like butterflies
Wishes are beneath the Surface
Magic is unknown, thus forgotten,
Among us, its like the sword plunged in
The ground, its warrior unable to
Remember its location then forgotten
Magic is always beneath the surface
Love is cherished when found, but love
Only comes out as often as a crescent moon,
Love is forgotten in times of need, it takes time to find, like a book in a library,
Once it is found though, it will be held and kept,
Love is beneath the Surface
I’m like no other, I wish, love, and
Find magic in the world, I’m
Common like others but still possess
Differences, I’m not forgotten
Nor am I unknown
But to the world I’m beneath the
Surface, where I can run free, and
Live as I please, I myself can say
That beneath the surface I feel magic,
Love, and, wishes, and that being beneath the surface
Is where I belong
Friendship is Like a Rose
Friendship is like a rose, glowing in its precious glory. Telling its own story
As each flower blooms, more of its beautifulness and strength continues to grow.
And like a rose garden, they’ll eventually tear
But carefully tended, by those who care.
When you come across a friend,
Who is as beautiful as a rose
You’ll find that you will need to keep them close.
So I picked this rose and pulled it apart
And all the pieces grew in my heart.
But what I realized, is that the rose that grew, was not leaves and petals, but pieces of you.
Your love and kindness, all your strength and power, have helped me grow into my own precious flower.
The Perfect Mask by Rachel M. Shields
Saturday, August 31, 2013
How do you like my mask?
I bought the prettiest one I could find.
Diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires
All create this dazzling façade.
We’re all going to a masquerade ball,
And I want to be the prettiest one there.
After all, they won’t see me;
They will see my mask.
That’s all that matters.
That’s what they tell me, anyways.
They say I’m beautiful.
They say I’m the prettiest one.
They say my hair is the most gorgeous.
They say I’m the thinnest.
They say my make-up is the most flawless.
My mask is the only pretty part of me though.
Why else would I wear it like this?
Some people only wear their masks for amusement.
Mine is almost a part of me.
I would wear it when I sleep,
But it’s excruciatingly painful.
I can suffer because it’s worth the beauty, right?
I look beautiful, but am I beautiful?
Maybe I am thin.
Maybe my hair is gorgeous.
Maybe I am the most beautiful.
The mask is more beautiful.
It always will be.
Some people take off their masks.
Some people never wear one.
Imagine that, never wearing a mask!
What about imperfections?
What about ugliness?
If I didn’t wear a mask,
People would start to see those things in me.
I might not be as beautiful.
I can never be as beautiful as the mask.
If I always wear it,
The mask might become part of me.
It almost kills me,
But if I didn’t wear it I would be far worse off.
The mask grows as I do.
It becomes tighter and tighter,
Threatening to squeeze any life out of me.
What matter is that?
As long as I look pretty,
The mask can do whatever it wants.
Beautiful things find their own way.
At least that’s what the others tell me.
They must know.
Those people have been wearing their masks for far longer than I have.
My mask is yet more beautiful than theirs.
A wrinkle here,
A gray there,
And the entire mask starts to droop.
It’s been a part of their face for so long.
What if that happens to me?
What if I am not always the most beautiful?
If I look in the mirror,
Will I too find that my mask is slipping?
I would look in the mirror,
But I am afraid of what I will see.
I might see something that wasn’t there before.
What if imperfection is part of me?
If I look in the mirror,
I might see a different person.
I might see someone I don’t want to be.
Or I might see an imperfect young woman,
Wearing a too-small dollar store mask.
My Façade by Rachel M. Shields
Saturday, August 31, 2013
I hope you know that.
I don’t think you do.
So desperately do I want you to know.
I want you to reach out,
You don’t know who I am.
You don’t know me.
Every day I hide.
My heart wants you to find me,
But my mind says no.
You don’t try.
You think I’m someone else.
You think I’m the girl I want to be,
The girl I want you to think I am.
But do you really no?
You don’t look hard enough.
You think you know me.
Never will you realize.
You will never know I’m hiding
Because you will never dare to look
Underneath my façade.