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