The Birds' Song That Only I Could Hear

Creative Writing Prose Poem

It started one day when I was sitting in my garden with my red sweater and blue boots. I was listening to the beautiful sweet birds sing their song.I wasn't alone. I was with one of my favorite people. I asked her if she was captivated by their singing just as I was. She said she couldn't hear a thing. I was surprised. But I kept living the life that no one else could live in my blue boots and occasional red sweater. Then when I was in my favorite place of silent whispers, I heard the flying wonders sing again. I looked around me and no one else seemed surprised. No one else searched the ceiling of the library. I was alone in my delight. I heard these birds. They sang just for me. I hear what no one else hears. In my moments of peaceful thought, there they are. Whispering, singing, sighing their song of love. They sing my moods to me. Then I started to notice him. One day I was feeling my birds' song as I walked through the park. He was there. He looked up and smiled to the world. I hummed the tune in my math class. He gave me a quier smile of surprise and he hummed the rest of it to me. I fell out of my desk in astonishment. I don't remember ever sharing that part of my bird's music with the rest of the world before. I realized this wasn't going to be a what if. This was a what is. Because what if is too defined, and we need a world where things actually can be. So I faced the fact that he and I shared a song. A song that came only to us when we were the happiest. It led us together. I never get sick of a bird's song, it means I am happy. Is this my imagination? Maybe. I guess we are stuck in the same imagination together if that's what it is. But I do know that we are in the same world together and it all started one day when I was sitting in my garden with my red sweater and blue boots.

Red and Green by Joseph Kleitsch

I want to be like her. I want to be in the middle of beauty, and not just be there but be aware of its purity. To know that it is special enough to stop, look, feel, and just be.

This quote has been one of my favorites for a while. I am not going to sit around not living my life :)

Blank Canvas

Dreams are the imagination's delight
They are the food of the starving soul
Captivating. Horrifying. Delicious.
Dreams are the satisfaction to the inward mind's craving

Like a tantilizing painting on a once blank canvas,
dreams draw every sense to the wonder of such an art
but sometimes this art can be
too horrifying. too abstract. too painful to stare at

Like when this art creates a couragous heroin out of a girl,
saving a child from a frozen watery grave,
but sinking down into the dark icey water,
perishing in the midst of a hauntingly silent sea

this art usually didn't let people die
but it was as clear as the night was dark
this girl, the creator of this particular painting, was dying
sinking slowly with her white ice skates still secure on her feet

she held her breath and silently screamed to the boy to save her
But she was gone before she even had the chance to wake up
How was she going to live the next day with such
a tale of dying in her recent past?

This knowledge pierced her mind
How could such a beautiful delight create such terror?
Normally it created joy out of the
sawdust of wishes and imaginations

but it creates tears as well as laughs and every kind of human emotion
This art turns the world upside down
It makes nerves and bones jump right out of place
leaving racing hearts and sweaty palms

But she will still thrive in her dreams
she will devour the art found inside her mind
and maybe next time she will use different colors
to paint her once blank canvas

You Are and Always Will Be

There is nothing that I could tell you
that hasn't already been said by my favorite song writer.
But you are and always will be my favorite lyrics all sung in one song
There is nothing that I could paint for you
that my favorite artist hasn't already painted
But you are and always will be my treasured Monet painting
I can't make a new constelation for you, the stars are set in stone
but you are and always will be the one that shines the brightest for me.
I could never kill someone for you, but if I could
You are and would be the first person I'd call from prison.
So many can'ts when it comes to you,
but you are and always will be the one who fills me with so many can's
Because you are the only one I get butterflies for
You are the only one I would call 30 times a day
You are the only one that I'd dive in a shark tank to save
You are the only one I'd write a love poem for
Because you are simply you, and always will be

Tears and Flowers

Words were spoken
So few words that she counted them on her fingers
Tears were cried
So many tears that she filled a vase...
and then picked some flowers
She'll forget those words
She'll use those tears
She'll sing a song because nothing's wrong
and in the end it doesn't matter
You still have your song to sing
and a vase full of tears and flowers

Being Something

You can be anything. You are something already. Or you can be nothing if you hide your something. Shock the world. Destroy the barriers you set for yourself. Your words will define you. So use your words to become your own definition. Sing your words. Whisper them to the moon. Shout them to the sea. And watch who answers. cry if you want! Sob for hours and see if your pillow talks back. Then face the world in its dangerous and delicate future. Because you were meant to be here. You are meant to be something.

Things I Didn't Know I Loved

It’s 2011 February 16th
I’m sitting on an old faded flowery pattern quilt
I can feel the prickly grass sinking through, tickling my body
I never knew I loved prickly grass the way it reaches
For the unknown world it can’t quite reach
I don’t like the way it never reaches the world

I didn’t know I loved light houses
I love them as much as I hate not seeing them in Maine
The way they shine for the world, reaching out to the lost
The way they shine for me and for the empty sea that longs
For its rays to sink into the waves

I didn’t know I loved the sea
I love the sea as much as I hate the creatures under it
Can someone afraid of water love the sea
The blue, gray, and green that reflects the beauty above
The breeze that brings the sea to those lucky enough to be in its path

I never knew I loved the breeze
I love the breeze as much as I hated it as a child
I love the way the trees clap their hands
And the clouds hurry along

I never knew I loved clouds
I like them as much as I dislike…sunburns
The clouds that cover the sun or let it shine through
The clouds that bring me a chance to use my imagination
I love any clouds as long they don’t cover the moon

I have always known I loved the moon
I love the man on the moon as much as I dis-love some boys I know
Watching him smile down at me from up there
I sigh and smile back at him from so far away down here

I have come to love down here
I love the way I can lay on this blanket
Feeling the grass underneath me
Reaching for the unknown world

The world that I never knew I loved
It's 2011 February 16th
and I'm sitting on an old faded flowery pattern quilt

The Text Poem Conversation of Erin and Kate

Kate: She was alone standing mouth wide open as the car zoomed off. She wished more than anything that she could suck those words back into a stupid memory but she couldn't. So she stood alone and cold.

Erin: She drove away wondering why a joke could make her turn so cold, she knew it was true, it was all true, but she was a girl and with so much ability to love came more opportunities to hurt. So she drove away and wrote a poem in her head .

Kate: The truth was like an impressionistic painting sometimes you are too close to see what is really there. Sometimes what was right before your eyes only came into view when you took a step back and saw it in the grand scheme of things. Perspective is a powerful weapon.

Erin: Painters paint the mountains purple and the sky pink knowing thats how it should be. they paint perspective. It can also be a powerful gift. but i am not a painter, so I'll watch as my life is painted and hope he's using beautiful colors

Text Poem

Windows and Hearts

I stand tall with blue boot
against the cold tile that
I can't feel.
I look outside the window but I don't see.
I hear myself breath so I know I'm alive
but I don't know what's colder;
what's outside that window
or what's inside my heart.

Days upon Days upon Days

Days upon days upon days have made a girl
this girl is me
she is funny and quirky and hello,
way adorable, but she
doesn't really like to brag.
Days upon days upon
days have made her who she is
and this is who I am
Definitionless, I am o'clockless,
Some days a wearer of no shoes
Some days a wearer of no socks either,
ok like everyday,
 a rememberer, an observer of human
 beings, I am a thinker of thoughts,
a lover of ear rings,
a despiser of Easter colors,
a quoter of many movies,
a maker of out loud laughing,
the worst teller of stories,
I am a historian of one special
life: Mine. I am Erin Orchard, or
when feeling sophistocated
 Orchard, Erin Ann, I'm forgetful
a separater of time, a procrastinator,
a people watcher by major and sometimes
offensive degrees, an inside my head
laugher of inside my head jokes,
and to be quite frank, I am
 many things