Nothing Lost (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Jul 28 2009

Everything always rests in the air.
I fall apart,
and it ends up right there;

tension and aching
everything breaking-
pouring
sex
and
anger,
love
and
disgust,
fear and longing,
elation and crushed…

dreams and
disappointment
sincerity,
lust

I don’t trust
any one
enough
to hand them my heart
well, I have-
but that
fell apart
that,
was pretend

I believe in second chances
but some things
don’t mend,
some things
don’t settle
some things,
ride gusts of wind
hang on clouds
fog up windshields,
thicken-
hang around…

some things dissipate,
float away
only to
reassemble and return another day
find another way
to circle me
like a vulture,
like a hawk,
like the most insistent
stalk
the things they know are theirs…

I stand in smog,
in cool breezes
heavy air,
easy breathing
and still
all the honesty won’t leave
can’t be blown or brushed-
disguised at times, but never hushed
can’t be driven beyond the clouds
or to the ground

can’t be found and held captive in a distant cell
it knows me well
and clings instead
right around my chest,
just beside my head
asks me to inhale
teases me to breathe deep
and take it all back in
it waits
by my skin
insisting again
to mix, to intoxicate my strength
with courage

every exhale
requires a breath
that begs for compensation
all I’ve ever let go
is waiting…
condensation
evaporation
relocation

I’ll never be allowed to breathe
completely free
until I find a place for the words I let go
but won’t let go of me

Leave a Response »

 

The “Hard” Collection (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Jul 28 2009

Hardest session (with reflection):

It’s hard to stop
seeing
a shattered person
it’s hard
to know
how to feel

I spent too long believing

everything came
too soon
or too late

I’m angry half the time I pray

these are deeper cuts
then I ever knew
and there’s no one to bear witness
as it all bleeds through

what was lost
wasn’t even real

the bitterness of disappointment
makes me purge
myself
of the like

only to realize
I am made of much less
than I imagined

but that does little
to surprise me now.

Hardest lesson:

Everything
is too much to entrust
(but it took being crushed)

I held on,
being pushed away
I was shut out,
and I just prayed
I was put down,
but just loved too much

I gave all there was
I gave myself up

And the shock
depleted my reserves,
tainted every place you were

I’d convinced myself if I gave it all,
I’d get everything in return
and so came the hardest lesson
I ever had to learn

Broke so much I got set free:

I cried
I prayed
I tried
I stayed

I’m done.

Words are never enough:

You say you love
But words are never enough
Especially after hurting so much

You say you feel
But you have yet to prove it
Hurry up
You’re going to lose it

I can only want for so long
And I’ve been wanting so long

I can’t function like this
I think, deep down,
You like you can wreck me

Whatever

Break my heart
Over and over
Break my spirit
Chip my shoulder

You don’t want me to hate you
But it’s getting to where
I wish we never met
I wish I couldn’t care

The part of the vows no one wants to talk about:

I can’t get your hands
To make me feel loved

We all know love’s not enough
But does it take so much
Of other things
To justify
these rings?

Why does it still hurt?

I’m so sick
of the play by play
who hurt who how
point is:
it got this way.

I don’t have much else to say
that you can understand
just grasping for
truth you can stomach

And how did this
go so wrong?
We can fight about it
all night long
till
you get mad
I cry
is this the homestretch
or the long goodbye?

When does it all fall back together?
When does “it’s over” sound worse than forever?

4 Responses »

 

Haiku Tuesday, Jul 28 2009

I need roots, not vines

what’s the use of wings if I

never get to fly?

2 Responses »

 

Steady Line (by Rebecca Chasteen) Friday, Jul 17 2009

I see the steady line
of you and I
in the folds of time

it’s never been
anything else
no matter
how far
no matter how little
how much

we touch
on that line
so easy,
it’s hard to follow

but we’re free from everything-
you and I
on that steady line

I promise you
I saw it there
all along

I find hope in standing here
looking forward, looking back
all the roads we take
fall to, or from this track
and they all lead here

it’s what I know more than what I feel

because I feel
everything
and I usually fall down
waiting
or move forward, almost
giving up
throwing out crumbs for you to follow
forgetting you know the way

the way’s the same-
some things don’t change

I see the steady line
of you and I
in all the folds of time
Don’t you know
there’s no right or wrong?
Haven’t you known that
all along?

I’ve known
all along
about you

we are both
wind and sun
we are everywhere, there’s no where to run
we are everything, underneath it all
it doesn’t matter-

walls
fall
and there,
behind,

you’ll find
that steady line
of you and I.

2 Responses »

 

Poems of Notebooks past, poem 6 (by Rebecca Chasteen) Sunday, Jul 12 2009

I wrote this when I was 14, in 8th grade. The title is Messages from Heaven.

You send me hope in bars and notes, and make me understand

this too shall pass.

You send me inspiration in words of black and white.

You send wisdom in the sunshine, and comfort down at night

along with angels.

You let me know you love me in every day I live,

You help me spread this love with every smile I give.

I don’t know what tomorrow brings,

but whatever I must do, I can.

Dear Father don’t let me forget,

my life is in your hands.

This poem makes me cry because it seems like more than 10 years ago, I wrote myself the words I would need right now. I acknowledge in a lot of things I write, I just write, as a literal vessel for the words that come from places I don’t know, in ways I didn’t plan. I acknowledge the supernatural, the divine in this. I acknowledge the subconcious, I acknowledge everything around me, before me, even in front of me as part of the words, part of the inspiration. No one is ever alone. And like land, no one really owns words, we just claim them and live with them. In doing so we may change them, and they us, but they belong to something bigger. And I’m thankful they do.

One Response »

 

Poems of Notebooks past, poem 5 Tuesday, Jul 7 2009

I wrote this when I was 14, in 8th grade. The title is Porch Swing.

The dogwood blooms have fallen off
Spring flowers passed away
The late sunset signifies
The end to the hot day
While crickets sing
Fireflies dance
And the sunset fades away
Porch swing creaks
And I can almost hear my grandma singing
Amazing Grace
How sweet the sound
In my imagination
Barefoot in the grass
Avoiding the broken glass
Of the abandoned house
Once theirs
And the porch swing creaks
My grandfather speaks
To me
No one else can hear him
And I only see
Those trees
From the porch swing
All that’s left are memories
Where two people used to be
And all that’s left to see
Is an old farmhouse
And a silent swing.

2 Responses »

 

Tundras in Time (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Jul 7 2009

I told you
things change
or they fade

Is that why you’re so far away?

Is that why
we’re frozen in time?

Everything’s unsure,
that’s the guarantee.

Me and you
you and me
we

stay right where we were.
Is that
a blessing
or a curse?

I never knew
what was worse,
with you
or without

and now
I’m walking around
with these two ghosts

we’ll never move
forward
we’ll never let go
we’ll never be less or more
we’ll never know…

the test
the trick
is to
rest here
till we’re forced to
melt
or move.

2 Responses »

 

Skin Tuesday, Jul 7 2009

I know crying doesn’t change a thing

I know I could have
sat somewhere else
or moved faster
spoke firmer
I could have
but I didn’t
and I can’t shake
unwelcome hands
pleading face

you can’t say
” I love you”
“come back soon”
when I’m running out of the room
when I said to stop

what about me said
I didn’t mean it?

or are you
too hard up
too assuming
too confused

I could do worse
and I could do better
than this
than tears in the car
professional phone call
coffee at the mall

this is
brush the dirt off your shoulder
kind of thing
and didn’t I show you my child
my ring?

I don’t know why you even tried
or why
I didn’t
exit quicker
why I cried

my skin’s thicker.

5 Responses »

 

Poems of Notebooks past, poem 4 (by Rebecca Chasteen) Wednesday, Jul 1 2009

I wrote this when I was 14, in 8th grade. The title is Dreams.

My only sanctuary,
behind my eyes.
Am I going too far to believe
dreams can come true?

The only sacred thing in my world
are these fantasies
of what could be.

Stripped free of insecurity
expecting reality to be…
w\What’s reality?
In other’s eyes
it’s not the same.

But society’s reality
is far from everything I see.
And I’ll never be happy here

I’d rather drown in saline tears
than live in this sad excuse
of a society.

I will be free.

Alone
is better than captive.
And an imagined world
is fine with me.

Eventually everyone will see
the truth.
Or
I will depart.

I will find a place
to be
a dream.

One Response »

 

Poems of Notebooks past, poem 3 (by Rebecca Chasteen) Wednesday, Jul 1 2009

I wrote this when I was 14, in 8th grade. The title is Empty.

Buried in the happiness
of everyone but me
Drowning in the caring words
of friends and family
Sinking in a sea of love,
entangled in another’s arms
And still I’m empty.

Can nothing fill the spaces left
by hatred and betrayal?
Will nothing take the place
of all that I once had?

How can my pain be iridescent
when I hurt so bad?
Can no one see through all
the emptiness in me?

What could take the place
of all that I could be
If I weren’t so empty?

As I cry into the void in me
I float of my waves of insecurity
And crash on the shore of broken dreams.

I lay in the moonbeams

Translucent heart.

Empty.

3 Responses »