All posts tagged Soul

Changing. Beating. Breaking.

burning.breaking

My heart is beating. Pounding. Breaking. Shattering the ice,
That incased it, soothed it, tamed it. Taught it to play nice.
My heart is thundering, breaking free of apathy’s cold hands,
And rising with a furious passion, to claim its own demands.

My heart is kind, strong and willing, but it’s a rebel heart all the same.
Unyielding to those things that laugh, and suggest it’s just game.
Getting lost in your own thoughts, a labyrinth of false truths,
That threaten, pet and snare the hearts of old men and fiery youths.

Angry now, this gentle heart, unpredictable and wild,
Seeing pain in too many eyes, seeing as a child.
Beating. Breaking. Too much taking, in this world we own,
Rebellious, vicious, cold, malicious, are these what we condone?

Beating colder. Getting older. Time likes to sooth with ice.
Hide the pain, in the mundane, and all that will suffice.
I may not have the strength to fix all that I see wrong,
I may not have the voice to drown out such an aching song.

I may not have the power to change the world … but then again,
The world can and will see change if we change the hearts of men.
So before I let apathy take hold. soothing, lying, taking,
I’ll reach deep and let the fire ignite. Changing. Beating. Breaking.

 

 

8 Comments
by Shyannah on December 20, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Poetry
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Posted by Shyannah on December 20, 2012

http://thelittlepurplenotebook.wordpress.com/2012/12/20/changing-beating-breaking/

Raven Black and Stars

I died my hair a raven black. As black as tears I cry.
Reminding me of raven birds that spread their wings to fly.
I didn’t say a word. I wanted just to think,
And stayed out past the midnight moon to watch the night stars blink.

I walked through forests, touched the trees, to marvel at their height,
And lost my shoes at water’s edge, to walk barefoot through the night.
I let my tears fall silently, my heart open, asking why,
While God walked with me so silently and watch sadly as I’d cry.

I do not need comforting words. I want no one to see,
The tears strip away at pain and hurt until there’s only me.
My eyes have turned from brown to black, reflecting the shy moon,
Then sparkle as the fading stars sing that day will be here soon.

I grow in night, I walk and think, reaching for something more,
I find it there, I always do, find what I’m searching for.
The raven birds fly to the sky and God smiles down at me,
Understanding that it is my tears, that better help me see.

3 Comments
by Shyannah on September 20, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Poetry
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Posted by Shyannah on September 20, 2012

http://thelittlepurplenotebook.wordpress.com/2012/09/20/raven-black-and-stars/

Glimpse Life

I used to imagine that I would always be on the move. Needing nothing more than a backpack and the ability to spin silvery words, like glistening webs, heard only for a moment and then gone with the breeze. In a small moment, connecting. Touching briefly the hardest thing on this earth to reach…the heart. That’s why I wanted to write.

I would close my eyes and listen to the wind, completely at peace and weighed down by nothing. Free in the truest sense. I guess somewhere along the line most of us lose some of that freedom. Sometimes without realizing it. Sometimes by choice. Others recognize the fragility of things like peace, freedom and integrity, and they fight for them.  I think that is when we lose what we love most…when, just once, we chose not to fight.

It’s easy to get lost in our lives. Side-tracked by all the things that, if we took half a second to look at…are worthless. Even to us. Trouble is we don’t take a second to look most of the time, and when we finally do, all we see are regrets. That’s not what I want to see.

I sit by the river for a long time, letting the sound of the water sooth my mind. It will be my birthday soon. They always seem to surprise me. Years flying by so fast…like pages that are writing themselves. What stories do they tell? What impact have I made? Questions always flood me, filling my eyes … the eyes looking back at me through my reflection. Older. Always older. I didn’t know your eyes could change, but they do.

I guess I’m just wondering about my life. What I want it to be. My regrets. My dreams. It’s good for me to focus. It’s scary … but good. I smile at the words drifting across my screen. I do love to write. To see the words reflect my thoughts so calmly. Making sense to me and reminding me of what I love. And even though another year has passed by …  a glimpse out of the corner of my eye … I still feel at peace when I write. I still want to touch hearts and fight for the purer things. I still want to keep moving forward so that when I look at my life again, I can still smile and think to myself … it was all worth it.

 

 

 

3 Comments
by Shyannah on August 12, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Thoughts
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Posted by Shyannah on August 12, 2012

http://thelittlepurplenotebook.wordpress.com/2012/08/12/glimpse-life/

A Promise to My Little One

Dear Little One,

I’ve already chosen your name.
You’re already so deep in my heart.
I think of you with secret thoughts,
Even though we are so far apart.

You see, I can’t yet feel your gentle heartbeat.
I can’t glow with pride for you.
Because you’ve not yet been given to me,
And I’ve not yet been given to you.

But don’t misunderstand, my Little One.
I love you more than you could know.
And hope for the day when I touch your hand,
Is reason enough for me to glow.

There are so many things, my dear small one,
So much beauty and lessons to share.
I want to whisper secrets of strength to you,
To inspire, to guide and prepare.

I can’t promise the world will be kind,
Or that you’ll never experience pain.
But I promise that I’ll be right there,
To comfort, to love and explain.

I can’t say that this life will be easy,
But I promise I’ll be here to guide you,
So you can stand tall in this crazy world,
With my guidance and love deep inside you.

Little one, I promise I’ll protect you,
And to make you the best you can be,
For you are not just a fond wish,
You are my little one, the best part of me.

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by Shyannah on July 30, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Poetry
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Posted by Shyannah on July 30, 2012

http://thelittlepurplenotebook.wordpress.com/2012/07/30/a-promise-to-my-little-one/

Winter’s Secret Beauty

Lovely little blue birds, swift and smooth in flight.
Tiny blue/brown wings, contrasting winter’s white.
Chubby little faces, fluffed up against the cold.
How I love theirs sweet songs, bright and clear and bold.

Lovely little blue birds, I’m glad you chose to stay,
And that the mocking winter has not driven you away.
Each season has it’s secret beauties, so easily unseen,
And you are winter’s secret, a lovely little queen.

Such wonder, those sweet blue birds, I watch them taking flight,
They gracefully overcome the cold of winter’s starry night.
I’ll remember to be cheerful. To sing and fly carefree.
Surviving all my winters with the grace the birds taught me.

 

7 Comments
by Shyannah on July 26, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
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Posted by Shyannah on July 26, 2012

http://thelittlepurplenotebook.wordpress.com/2012/07/26/winters-secret-beauty/

Breaking Down Walls

There is too little air…this air that I’m breathing.
My pent up distress. Inside I am seething.
Angry at weakness. Empowered by anger.
Reckless in power. Sensing the danger.

Worn out and weary. Distressed just the same.
For all of my fighting, no answers to claim.
Angry at weakness. Resigned to be still.
Seething in silence…breaking my own will.

Sledge hammer in hand, I break down the walls.
Crying and hurting…watching them fall.
The rooms here are empty. It’s only me here.
Angry at nothing, but at my own fear.

My weakness, my failure, the goals that I set,
I missed. I tried. I drown in regret.
I splash coats of paint. Can’t cover the words.
My reservations and composure fly off like birds.

I sit on the ground, breathing and listening.
I look out the window, the stars…calmly glistening.
It’s sweet now, the air. The air that I’m breathing.
Gone are the walls, the fear and the seething.

I’m only broken by my own expectations.
Unwilling to weaken. Must break reservations.
Empowered by silence, and focus, and air.
Calm, restless spirit, and find your repair.

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by Shyannah on July 11, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Poetry
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Posted by Shyannah on July 11, 2012

http://thelittlepurplenotebook.wordpress.com/2012/07/11/breaking-down-walls/

Beneath It All

I wrote this poem about troubled teens to hopefully raise awareness that there is a need for us to reach out and help them. There is so much more that lies beneath the surface of what we see, and we should remember that before giving up on them so easily.

To you I’m just a number, part of what statistics say.
I’m that rebellious teenager that you see every day.
Drive by shootings, sex and drugs try to take away the pain.
You want me out of your way because you can’t explain.

Ever walk through juvie hall and look into my eyes?
You’ll see the fear, and hate, and pain that never seems to die.
Behind all of my cussing and the toughness I put on,
There’s a remnant of a heart that others say is gone.

Why don’t you try to see past the number on my shirt?
You’d see the fights, the words, the hate leads right down to the hurt.
I may not have the home life, nice friends or name brand clothes,
But you don’t have to look at me like this is the life I chose.

No one ever understands me, and no one even tries.
They wonder why I act this way, then they ignore my cries.
I guess hopelessness is easier than dealing with me now.
They want a model citizen, but they won’t show me how.

When I die, you pass my grave with a sad shake of your head,
But if you tried to show you cared, I might not be dead.
You’ve looked through my eyes before, maybe just a glance years ago,
But if you look once again, you would see and finally know.

I take life as it comes, take the hits until I fall.
Until I’m too worn, and sad, and hurt to try to fight at all.
Ever pass me on the street and look into my eyes?
Ever wonder about my past? Ever try to hear my cries?

I am homeless. I’m forgotten. I’m still just a teen.
How easily they can forget what they have never seen.
Before you judge or label me a statistic off the chart,
Remember that beneath it all…I have a broken heart.

 

 

5 Comments
by Shyannah on June 25, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Poetry
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Posted by Shyannah on June 25, 2012

http://thelittlepurplenotebook.wordpress.com/2012/06/25/beneath-it-all/

If You Follow…

Before my eyes take hold of sight, before consciousness grasps hold,

An anticipation creeps within to make me ever bold.

I can sense the fiercest freedoms, those that cause a soul to ponder,

And become alone to love the unknown, an eerie beckoning to wander.

 

All else becomes abandoned, that is why not many go,

But the lonely have no other drive except to see and know.

The air is sharp, I’m stronger, more alive, I am what surrounds me.

I am fierce and wild, mysterious and alone, I am bent on being free.

 

I open my eyes and suddenly, I choose to be alone,

So desperate to discover the passion of the unknown.

There are dangers, there are endless risks, their will be no one to love,

I am driven purely by the need to dare and rise above.

 

It is a challenge just within myself, an envy…jealousness,

Of all the things I know I could be, and for freedom’s cold caress.

It is a life to be desired, but consequence is far too cruel,

For to love this life and still be loved is an ever constant duel.

 

Resign to forget such desperate passions that will lead you where it will,

Or resign to always be alone, and everyday be searching still.

The beauty will lure you, the danger will feed you, the life is simply a call,

I can feel it before my eyes take sight, if you follow, forget it all.

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by Shyannah on June 14, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Poetry
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Posted by Shyannah on June 14, 2012

http://thelittlepurplenotebook.wordpress.com/2012/06/14/if-you-follow/

Child of the Rain

Fragments of dreams are falling. Memories and pain.
I think you, the earth child, would call this gentle rain.
There is a voice singing to put broken souls at ease.
Why do you, wondering earth child, call the song a breeze?

Every crystal drop that forms, contains somebody’s pain.
Each childhood dream, and unwritten song finds freedom in the rain.
Ever wonder why a lake can cradle reflections ever shifting?
It’s because each fleeting image is a passion simply drifting.

A tear is transparent so you can see, through the pain that each soul feels,
The beauty, no longer hidden…the wisdom a tear reveals.
When you run from the pain life offers, when you refuse to face the day,
You are taking the dreams that lie hidden, and turning them all away.

Fragments of dreams are falling. Songs of passion from hearts filled with pain.
I am but a wondering soul seeking beauty. I have become a child of the rain.
Bitterness is just a prison. Fear is the lock you use.
Freedom is found in the chances, and heartaches if you choose.

There is a voice that is singing, to put broken souls at ease.
There is meaning in the reflections that most refuse to see.
Why do you, broken earth child, not see the passion in the pain?
I can not understand your fear. I am but a child of the rain.

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by Shyannah on May 21, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Poetry
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Posted by Shyannah on May 21, 2012

http://thelittlepurplenotebook.wordpress.com/2012/05/21/child-of-the-rain/

The Little Things

Funny the memories that stick with you. You always think when you look back you’ll remember the mountain top experiences the most. But it doesn’t really work like that does it?  Oh sure, you won’t forget you greatest accomplishments and adventures…but you remember the simple things the most. That time you laughed so hard over something so stupid you don’t even remember what it was. But you remember laughing. The smells of street vendors wafting toward you as you watch the world pass by. The smile he gave you as he walked away, a promise to come back. It’s the little things that stick with you.

I think when we traveled, that was one of my biggest surprises. I didn’t have to go half way around the world looking for adventure and fascinating experiences. It was an appreciation you had in you or you didn’t. Adventures could be found everywhere once you start looking. It’s the looking that’s most exciting. But of all the amazing places, the things I remember most  were the friends we made, the knowing that you put your heart and soul out there to help someone. It was sitting on a train from Thailand to Cambodia and feeling at peace with the world, my life, everything. It was looking at my husband and knowing that if we were suddenly stranded on a dirt road somewhere along the border, it would be ok as long as we were together. Sometimes it takes getting everything you want to realize that what you really want, you always had. That’s why the things I remember most … are the little things.

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by Shyannah on May 8, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Thoughts
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Posted by Shyannah on May 8, 2012

http://thelittlepurplenotebook.wordpress.com/2012/05/08/the-little-things/

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