Category Archives: diary

The Phoenix

Amidst the ruins of a soot-coated soul
A fledgling Phoenix now tests its wings
What yielded to the ravages of dismay
Resurrects itself again for the game

It spits out the ashes and clears its throat
Thumping its chest in a triumphant cry
Nay, Destiny, stand not and titter at me
Share my wings and we shall fly high

The fruit of life is ripe for the picking
Crane your neck and look heavenwards
While resigned sighs have all burned out
Hope still shines bright among stars

When deprived of love, love some more
When worry comes knocking, hand it a cup of tea
If time stamps its feet, teach it patience
And train your tears to flow in joy

That ancient despair stands not a chance
If you head home, Spirit, to waiting arms
Duties are lining out there for us to do
Let us arise and give the world our best

It’s been long since we put on a good show
Aloud cries the Phoenix, rearing to go

spirit

The Diary in the Attic

Within a pile of pages
Lies hidden, forgotten,
The story of my life
My best and worst years
Truths, hopes, fears
The ones who knew it are gone
But they only saw parts of it
Never the full picture
I forget why I wrote
Perhaps, in confession
Maybe I went unheard for long
Or was scared to share myself
Yes, I was hard to understand
But I found it harder to talk
I was, probably
Too deep to bother digging
Too twisted to unravel
I gave up trying to connect
And they gave up on me
Too soon, and that hurt
I withered away in misery
Anyway, I wrote
At length, for someday
Someone else might
Sneak up to an attic to hide
And find in me a friend
My words a solace
My experiences a lesson
For I have things to say
About what I never did
But should have, could have
To survive and thrive
I could be a confidante
I think I will be, soon
Footsteps like thunder
A teenager in agony
Barges into dusty emptiness
Restless, furious, hurt
And thankfully, alone
I was her, once, but
She must not become me
A master hand waves
And my book falls open
It’s time to start.

the_confidante_2012_A3L

My Diary Dearest

Dairies. I love writing in them…even after that time when the golden rule was broken and my diary was poached by a curious parent. All in good intent, of course, but those reasons would not make sense to a hot-headed teenager, of course. Still doesn’t, duh!

I love the way I can just scoop up my thoughts and somehow, pour them all into a couple of pages, with complete honesty. You cannot have been that honest with a real, human friend! Was it a bad day? Whisper my sadness into my diary and expect total discretion. Is it a crush? Spill the beans passionately through pen and paper. The mandatory rose petals from a secret admirer find their way into the book too. Perhaps a photograph of a fun day out with friends? Absolutely! Hmmm…mad at mom or dad? Coop up in a room and write. Spew all the complaints, and then wait for the parent to cajole me into having dinner.

A diary is so special, isn’t it? Let the world tumble along; my words need my complete attention. I scrawl fondly, angrily, sadly, happily…and look at the words another day, living the same story but from a different perspective, maybe. ‘Oh god, how could I have been that stupid?’ ‘Wow, that was fun, no?’ ‘Damn, I should have avoided getting into that argument.’ ‘I got appreciated today.’

I miss my dog-eared diary sometimes. Such things happen. There’s a treasure of memories in there, and yes, the book manages to disappear. I hope to stumble upon it someday, when I am least looking for it. Or, if somebody else does a long time later, I hope they have a good time reading it without being judgemental, realizing that it was a crazy teenage survival kit.

I look out at the dimming sunlight. It has been a good day, and I feel great about writing again. Logging on to my web journal….

P.S. No editing. Just writing and instantly posting.Go Dee!Diary Dearest

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