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About Varied / Hobbyist Member IsabelleFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 4 Years
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Today, he cancelled my creative writing society
so I could get more work done.
Making new friends would have to wait.

It's always like this, compromise with him
always turns into the reality principle,
where delayed gratification never comes.
At least not the way I want it to.

Yes he gets me out of bed, gets me to breakfast in time,
gets me to campus at a reasonable hour. But at the end of the day
he always makes sure I can sit and do nothing
but stare at the screen, wasting away
the few hours of freedom I've got.
Sometimes I like to be there, sometimes I'd rather not.

I'm starting to realize how he comes around when things go wrong.
I have a hard time wondering if he still knows what's best for me,
since today it seems all he wants to do
is get me into a room
alone with him.
He spent my whole life getting me used to the idea
of solitude.

Well, perfectionism, you can cancel my creative writing society
but I am still writing.
Don't tell me there isn't enough time to write a poem.
Working Hard
Anyone who meets me might think I have my shit together...and I do. A little too much. Here's a glimpse into the life maybe only two or three people really know about, the life I really live. 

Hopefully I'll be able to come up with a better title for this...
I watched my mother tug the leash taut, pulling the dog back from the bushes, her body
slanted back, then pulled forward, until finally
she was triumphant. Walking the dog back to the house,
her face held a look of dignified frustration,
a look, I suddenly realized, she must have had sometimes for us, as kids.

Before me, my brother replicated one song from the Miles Davis record I had listened to
earlier that day, and then another. I was the Lucy at the piano, in awe of the way his fingers could go anywhere, roaming, and caught up in stillness for the songs he had just brought to life.
Fragments of the Day
I don't often write in prose. When I do, it's a refreshing change...:rose:
Coming home is a strange thing

Where is the smell of sweet earth?

Wandering numb from room to room

The ocean and infinite pines to meet the day?

Plugged in to a screen again

Where are the barnacles to cut my feet? The moss?

Strange convenience of sink and toilet

I feel unfulfilled

I wake up early out of habit

My soul knows what it's missing

To a fan and trimmed-in trees

Vitality tenderly carved out

I'll have to do my best back here

The gaping wound unfilled by dead space

Maybe I'll read

Searching for what I'm missing.
Coming Home
This is my take on coming back to my comfortable suburban life after being in Green's Island, Maine for about a week. There are no words to describe how alive everything is out there, and I think this summer is where I've really begun to understand how much I appreciate nature and how much it does for me. I'm gonna miss it. :(


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Jialin Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
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