jscarrie
J.S. Carrie
Poetry and Writing Blog | 19 | she/he | Carrie or Jhonny
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A LITTLE ARS0N 4 THE SOUL
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Simple Things
J.S. Carrie
Everything runs smoothly
When you, really, least expect it.
The rain stops falling, or
The wind stops
Bowling you over.
Today I find a modicum of peace
Inside the closet.
I take that, with the broom and pan,
And use it,
And finally get all this dust to go.
Spilling coffee down my shirt
And homework that I turned in late
Is easy, when I know that things are simple.
#twcpoetry#writerscreed#original poetry#poetsandwriters#free form poetry#poetry#poem#writing#poetry blog#poems and quotes
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Watching the Sky
J.S. Carrie
My makeup might run if I really do cry, and I’m shaking, (in silence), (with anger).
I had been hoping, or dreaming of futures, and thinking you’d love me forever.
Somebody does a bad thing.
Somebody helps me get high.
Somebody leaves me,
Alone and unwitting,
My only friend being the sky.
I wonder now, carelessly, why I thought that a man could have feelings.
Now I know better. No matter the moonlight, the sunlight, the weather,
I will be left here, and reeling.
Somebody gives me a hug.
Somebody tells me goodbye.
Somebody watches,
And comes up beside me,
And whispers to look at the sky.
#twcpoetry#writerscreed#original poetry#poem#free form poetry#poetry#writing#poetsandwriters#poems and quotes#poetry blog#original writing
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Stampede
J.S. Carrie
Stampede,
stampede!
Call out your warnings
then fall to your knees.
Pray forever.
Pray that when they hear it,
they will heed.
One child, born with no left eye,
is crying as he hears it.
He has been mute
since the day he was--
...
And he can hear it.
As observant as the silent must be,
of course,
he hears it.
A mother holds his hand.
Walking through town,
he tugs gently.
Mother, mother, please.
However:
the eggs are on sale.
for the fruit, we can haggle.
for neighbors, we must always stop and talk.
Mother, please,
stampede, stampede.
There is no voice
to shout aloud the warning.
Tears on the starboard,
as bright as far-off hooves shall glint
to catch the setting sun,
cannot be shed from port-side
and are missed.
#poetry#writerscreed#twcpoetry#writing#poem#free form poetry#poetsandwriters#original poetry#poems and quotes#poetry blog#daily poems#journal
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The Effort
J.S. Carrie
He’d forgotten my name
when we reached the third day
and he asked me to tell him again.
I am shaky with faces
and so stayed up pacing
engraving his form in my head.
But even so,
I think I’d known
that I had gone too far:
I told him my name
and pushed out the pain
and walked with him back to his car.
#poetry#free form poetry#poem#writing#poetsandwriters#original poetry#twcpoetry#writerscreed#poems and quotes#poetry blog
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I really love your poetry, it’s so beautiful. How long have you been writing?
TYSM 😚! this makes me soooo so happy! I’ve been writing for years, probably around 12 years now. It wasn’t always poetry but I’ve been seriously writing poetry for about a year and a half and I wrote it on and off before that!
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When it Rains in Connecticut
J.S. Carrie
There are frogs everywhere.
They spring out from the cracks in logs,
The bottoms of rivers
And gunk-filled ponds,
And raise their noses proudly to the sky.
If you have seen it, you will know
How very small they are.
How they can rest in just
The crevice of your palm.
And if you’ve seen it,
You will know that there are many.
There are so, so many frogs here,
in the country.
When it rains, and the air is cool,
And the ground is softened
From its usual harshness, and hotness,
They surface out from somewhere to enjoy it.
Dozens- no, hundreds,
Of tiny little people come together.
They gather in bunches
On the dark-paved roads,
In tandem, tilt their heads up to the sky.
Have you seen the way
They close their tiny eyes?
How peacefully, and fully,
They enjoy it.
#twcpoetry#writerscreed#writers and poets#creative wrting#original poetry#poetry#free form poetry#poem#writing#poetsandwriters#poems and quotes#new p.s.#frogs and toads#frog poetry
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CONTEXT: Necromancer buys dried flowers at a shop where she regularly flirts with the owner. (￣▽￣)ゞ
Thanks for the tags @jamiedeadwrites & @bluberimufim! 🌷 This is for the last line tag and in my defense this all started as a line lol
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Oh Please
J.S. Carrie
I look at trees,
please, please.
I look and wonder
who else sees?
Why scorn
for rhyming poetry,
when both our skin
has touched this breeze?
If you ask me...
Tradition can be lovely.
Tradition can be growth,
even when the growth is new.
Red For Luck
and Celtic Knot
and Nesting Doll
and Handshakes.
Do you prefer paved roads, or cobbled?
We both will see.
(So much-- and never enough to compare it.)
There is music.
So much music,
I will never hear it all.
Despite, with gall,
and valiantly, I try.
I look at trees,
oh please, oh please.
I ponder on them wisely.
Legs burning from the run.
arms heavy from the crates of china,
shipping out.
Fingers stiff from folding cranes,
connecting with all I think of.
Empathy, oh please,
I look at trees.
Oh please,
please,
please,
I look at trees.
#twcpoetry#new p.s.#writerscreed#poetry#poetsandwriters#poem#writing#original poetry#free form poetry#writers and poets#new writers on tumblr#new poets on tumblr
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Thumbtack in Your Pocket
J.S. Carrie
In ten days,
I will shuck away
my skin and face
and silently become you.
I feel your bones
growing inside of me,
creeping through my cracks
like moss in stone,
like vines in stone,
like water, weathering stone,
like ice, expanding in stone.
The wedge drives deeper.
Howling, I despair.
I wish you weren’t going
to cut your hair.
I liked the way it fell
behind your ears,
the way it reminded me
of how mine used to fall.
Now my hair is grown long.
Please, just let your hair grow long.
Two laundry hampers
sitting in my room,
full of my clothes that
I have not yet put away,
slowly begin to reject me.
Within them,
from the bottom, working up,
is you.
Your shirts, your pants,
your mismatched socks
and your stray hairbands.
You always used to leave them
in your pockets.
You always forget to take things
from your pockets.
Like a penny in the sidewalk crack.
Like a thumbtack behind the desk.
Like a hairband in your pocket.
Like a penny in your pocket.
Like a thumbtack in the crack behind the sidewalk,
in your pocket.
Slowly, the world around me
begins to forget me.
Is this all I am, a thumbtack in your pocket?
Shall I prick you, just a thumbtack in your pocket?
#poetry#free form poetry#twc poetry#writercreed#poetsandwriters#poem#writing#original poetry#twcpoetry
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Men who Mourn Nothing
J.S Carrie
Never have i seen a man as defeated
as a man entrenched in failure.
When dejected by luck and fortune,
he will never try his own hand.
He sleeps all day,
he sulks and cries.
He remembers what he wanted
and curses for his lack of it.
He spits, and wails,
and turns his cheek to revelations.
Why stamp out fires you have not yet lit?
What wicked curse must control your effort,
eat your power and
devour your time?
A man in failure is a man
exhausted by all.
By cleaning, by cooking.
He is a man worn through
by his own well-being.
If he cannot do this,
if he cannot have this,
he thinks, “I should have nothing.”
Never will he take the step,
or skip the stone,
or try.
#poetry#writerscreed#twcpoetry#free form poetry#poem#poetsandwriters#original poetry#writing#writer#writerscommunity#poetry blog#writers and poets#poems and quotes
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Untitled
J.S. Carrie
an orange cat wakes, begrudgingly,
and jumps off of the wall.
he has seen more than I will,
although I seek out visions.
perhaps this is why.
to live a life devoid of interest,
where only instinct remains,
there may still be curiosity;
after all, that is what killed him.
but in his time,
will he think of cherry pits,
and shark week,
and love?
he knows a path to take to daily,
comes hither to my drooping porch.
I see him in the window,
and carefully beside him
set his bowl.
#poetry#twcpoetry#writerscreed#writers on tumblr#original writing#writing#free form poetry#poem#poetsandwriters#free form poem#original poetry#poetry blog#writers and poets#writerscommunity#poems and quotes
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From Nowhere
J.S. Carrie
With flimsy limbs and a rush of whimsy
feeling like cold ice down the shirt
or water rushing over your open eyes
the world becomes just a bit more numb,
and muted.
Simultaneously,
it feels like shocking.
Electric bolts, looping and hopping
twixt metal poles and rubber stops
that make up your gray matter.
And something makes you cry
like you have never cried before.
It's an episode of your favorite show.
It's the anxiety of your roommate's face
and the pregnancy test in the bin,
and the cake you can't get right
your birthday morning.
Tears wash over your insides
before they can even fall.
It's empty chairs at the recital and
the tiny stray you thought might survive.
It's cooking that tastes awful after a very long day.
It's the look of dissapointment
on his face
when you say "No."
your chest is tight
and your eyes are tight
and your mind is pinched tight
by the music in the background
of the moment.
I'm sorry, sweet girl;
I wish we could all do better for you.
But I start the process slowly.
I will cry when you cry, and feel your sorrow too.
#free form poetry#twcpoetry#writerscreed#writers on tumblr#original writing#writing#poem#poetry#original poetry#daily poems#poems and quotes#poets of tumblr
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Thank you for Loving Me.
J.S. Carrie
You must hate to love me,
to hate me as you do.
I know there is love there,
or you could not have one thought for me:
one sliver of caring in your body,
to care enough to think it.
All you do is hate me
and hate, and hate.
And think of me.
Your judgement gives life
to my visage in you.
I know you are exhuasted,
I forgive you.
Keep your hatred if you must;
Not all love can be let go.
Lay your head upon my knee,
collapse over my back,
and I will carry you
through your tumultuous dreams.
I lose my curiosities
to the mindful flow of living.
Now I have the room
in my arms for yours.
Let me carry them for you.
Thank you for loving me.
Thank you,
for loving me.
Every day, I will forgive you.
#twcpoetry#writerscreed#original poetry#original writing#poem#poetry#poetry blog#writing#writers on tumblr#writers and poets#poems and quotes
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Ender Falls
There is a lazy river,
Cut through by big spools of rock.
They take apart the water,
Slowly, piece by piece,
And pools form in-between,
Wavy and informal.
The sun was very bright the day
I went to Ender Falls.
I walked along a trail so thin
It was barely there at all.
I dipped my toes in gravy boats
Of tadpoles, earth, and bugs,
And heard my mother laugh
Over my shoulder.
I cannot quite remember
What I told her.
Moss grew on the trunks that day,
Encircling circumferences
That stripped from me naivety-
Like legends of
The North Side
of the tree.
We come upon a sun-warmed spot
Where plant life seemed to bend back out,
And leave us.
We lunched upon the carcasses of
fallen herons, rattlesnakes, and beavers.
I wipe my mouth and blood gets on my fingers.
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Dream Journal
J.S. Carrie
I have a dream and
a little girl with
very long arms
is walking right behind me.
She has a little
yellow frisbee, and it's floating.
the dream keeps
getting fasater, and I-
have a dream and
a boy I don't approve of
might be sitting here
in the pink-plastic hot tub
on the back of Barbie's trailer.
I don't know how to
feel. I hope this doesn't
change the way I-
have a dream
I float when I jump.
I do it too much,
and then I get stuck
to the ceiling.
I float across the
ply and boards
in the attic of
a home I've never
lived in.
My mother says
she used to, as a-
Dream I wake up,
and go to class.
A dog is barking,
shrilly.
I wonder how many times
I will manage the gym
this week.
eighteen credits can be
nothing, if I'm awesome.
If I'm really awesome about it.
I have a dream
I take the test on time.
#dream poem#twcpoetry#twc#writerscreed#writers and poets#free form poetry#poem#poetsandwriters#poetry#original poetry#original writing
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From Class Margins
J.S. Carrie
Stars and exes sprinkle the skin
over the back of my hand.
Why am I wrinkled?
Why do I see markings there?
My veins, a deathly blue,
shine through it all.
I am only nineteen
my flesh too
damned for taughtness
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