Musings from a Tipsy Scatterbrain

your fingers pluck on my heartstrings like a skilled musician. The idea of you, as steady as a drum beat in my head. I peer into a sea of faces and wonder if you're lost in there, are you trying to get out? Or are you hiding instead? Being alone, and being happy. It's a hard thing to master. Especially when all around you everyone is paired together.
So, who are you? I'm dying to know!
My heart is calling out, it sings its song so loudly, trying to wait patiently for the return of its call. I'm searching for a pure heart. One that's brave and true. Kind and patient. Gentle, loving. Does this sound like you? Do your eyes see things the way they are, from a surface view? Or do you see with a creative imagination, making old things seem brand new?
Images in my head, belonging on an artist's wild canvas. But sometimes it's hard to find the right form of expression for all these thoughts found where head and heart meet. Should I use a gilded paint brush, or illustrate with my bruised and battered feet?
I need to move to think, it's just the way I am. On most days I need more then pen and ink to exercise my crazy plans.
If you think you can handle my insanity, well, then you're welcome to give it a shot. But I must shoot you a warning:
This brain and these emotions don't come equipped with a switch to turn things 'off'. I need a kindred spirit, someone who shares my goals. Someone to bring me coffee and a kiss at 3am when I'm tired and starting to feel slow.
Whisper that you love me.
Place a smile on my face.
Forgive me when I hurt you.
And share with me God's grace.
I can see you smiling as I place my hand in yours, as we walk down a path lined with trees. Our hair goes from dark to gray, and eventually we walk with canes.
You'll be my hero and my lifeline and keep me from going mad. I'll drive you towards insanity but you won't mind, because being crazy's not so bad.
I have many dreams of life, and love, and art, but you...
you yourself are a dream ...
But O, to dream! To dream is an experience I'll never forsake. For it's in the adventurous, nonsensical world of my imagination that I get to meet you.

Poetry by pencil strokes

- art credit to: Sophia

I was...

Nineteen today, but not tomorrow
Can't make up my mind between
Gladness and Sorrow

Thinking of the year that's passed,
Of moments, memories, friends that last
Times that left me happy and confused,
Other where I was sad and bruised

A whole spectrum of emotions
Crammed into a short twelve months
A lifetime of experiences
Learning to believe and hope and trust and love

Learning what you're made of
Learning who you really are
Learning to be humble
While reaching for the stars.

Learning what was meant
When they spoke of 'love' and 'loss'
Learning that I"m broken,
And how much I need the cross

Caffeinated,
And jaded
It's how I greet the day
But I found that it's your grace
That lets me see life another way

I don't know where I'm going,
What I'm doing
But I know that You know all
I'm glad that I can trust you
To pick me up each time I fall

I was nineteen
It was a crazy year,
Of living
Learning
Loving
Yearning
Falling
Flying
Cutting
Dying
living on the edge without ever really trying

Asking questions
learning facts
Going mad,
And keeping my insanity intact

I wrote some poetry
And sang some songs
And sometimes others sang along
I did somethings that made you proud
And things I'd rather not be said aloud

There's nothing I would change
At least, if given the chance
There are no regrets I have
That could possibly out weigh the experience

looking foreword to another year
Of living
learning
Loving
Yearning
Of daily in your mercies growing
Giving grace where it's least expected
Waiting for strengths to be tested
For weaknesses to reappear
And knowing, to You, I can draw near

Leaning upon You when I feel broken
Trying to keep my cynical heart open
To your love and kindness, never failing

More life to be lived
More coffee to be had
More songs to be sung
Life's songs, both good and bad

I'm unsure how to end
In truth, life's just begun
Though a lot seems to be changing
Everything essentially stays the same

But this chapter must
be brought to a close
A new page be made ready
for exciting new words of adventure to flow

Nineteen no more, nevermore, no, nevermore.
Nineteen today, but not tomorrow
I was Nineteen.

"it's just a bit of silliness, really..."

Well, we have decided that there's been enough brooding, bitter, and bold poems, and decided it was time for a little silliness. Something that made us chuckle and lightened the mood...what you are about to read is the product of watching a whole season of a TV show and then some extra episodes...26 hours total in the course of about 4 1/2 days. This is the product of creative and easily distracted minds running on very little sleep, a lot of caffeine, and carbs. So, here you go, chuckle a little and enjoy. (and no, we're not in our right minds ;)









AN ODE TO JAMEN AND DEREMY

I feel like a refugee, hiding in my thoughts
Trying to break free
I've been immersed in your eyes for days
Something about them begs me to stay
You wander in and out of my dreams
Floating like a shadow,
Moving swift and free
You're on the tip of my tongue
I'm on the edge of my seat
Trying to decide if finding you was victory or defeat
Somehow you've taken me over
Body and soul
But I fight so hard to try and gain control
I feel like I've been invited in
And you draw me closer with every tilt of your chin
Enamored, by the thought of your touch
My sanity slowly slips away
How easily the imagination is captivated, compelled, and fascinated.
How willingly the imagination runs away
How voluntarily it can be swayed
Surrender, beautiful and sweet
Fill my body when our lips meet
I breath in deep, and my lungs surge with air
My fingers long for deep immersion in your hair
Overwhelmed, I close my awestruck eyes
My chest trying to suppress a sigh
Your forehead is creased with lines of brooding
your eyes are pools of worry
I can't explain how much of me you're affecting
But I wish I could take away your sad thoughts
And fix it all in a hurry

Art credit  goes to the amazingly talented Sophia

Writing credit goes to the overly giddy and very tired Emily

Poetry in forms of pencil strokes

A State of Melancholy

Oh melancholy me eyes full of tears will be I need someone to comfort me Oh will you soothe my sorrowful soul, And keep the tears at bay? If I unlocked my heart to you Would you come in, or run away? Oh sorrowful soul! Oh heavy heart! My body's full of fears For you, my love, have gone away And left me, lonesome, here I know that you're not out of reach And homeward bound will be But while you're gone, I'll sing our song And melancholy be