My favorite Author
It had been a long day. I was killed. The only thing in my mind was sitting back a drinking a cold beer. Walking in the bar the lighting was dim. Laughter could be heard lightly in the background. Walking to the back corner I found me a table away from everything and everyone. I sat down slowly enjoying the feeling of my body relaxing. A purky waitress came up to the table, what would you like she said. Rolling my eyes at her over bubbly personality I answered a beer please. She walked off as if she felt my negative vibes towards her. Closing my eyes I just set back and relaxed. Excuse me, I heard a voice say. I looked around. Out the Darkness Appeared a man. His face had no expression. May I join you he said with a deep voice. I nodded my head. He sat down beside me. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Edgar Allen Poe. I looked up in disbelief. I knew I had seen him somewhere before but never did I imagine it was him. Stuttering I barely said the words I am your biggest fan. I have read all your writings and you have inspired many of my writings. A small smile from the side of his lip appeared. Thank you he said. He began to talk more, I saw you sitting in this dark corner with a look on your face of concern. I know that look he said, I have had that look many of times. The feeling of loneliness and sadness can drive you mad. I looked him in the eyes, he could read my mind. He knew exactly how I felt what I was going through. The waitress came over bringing us both a beer. He never once looked up at her. When she left I told him how I felt. It amazed me that he knew how I felt. He looked deep into my eyes. I could feel him mentally drawing me into his world. Put your emotions and feelings all into your writing he said. I.jI.just shook my head yes, still mesmerized with his stare. He put his hand on mine. I could feel a wave of emotion come over my body. I will always be a part of you he said. He leaned back and I just let out a sigh. I looked down at the table thinking of what to say and looked up again. He was gone. My mouth fell wide open. I looked all around the room. He was nowhere to be seen. Is my mind playing tricks on me. No, I heard a voice come from somewhere inside me. I am with you and you will continue on with my writings. Instantly I knew he was still here. Standing to leave I turned around towards the wall beside my table. On the wall was a picture of Edgar Allen Poe. His eyes looking into mine. I knew I had just had a beer with my favorite Author.
Lost
The red dress
Captivated me
Again
As the luscious lips had done before
The shape of you
I can’t…
I mean…
The shape of you
Makes me lost for words
Your smile, half smile
Never full,
Like you’re
Protecting us from the dazzling
Beauty
The beauty
I feel so…
I mean…
I can’t…
You make me lost for words
And those eyes
And those eyes
And
You make me lost for words
Or perhaps I dare not say
I mean
I can’t…
And those eyes.
The Aspen Grove
In Celtic Mythology, the aspen tree was known as the ‘Sacred Whispering Tree’.
It was known to have the ability to communicate and travel between the two worlds.
Behind me I feel the aching pain of formless wraiths,
Cast away due to their agony, pushed away for being peculiar.
They are the ones who everyone disregarded and discarded,
The ones who despite trying were never enough,
The ones with rugged spirits and soundless screams,
The ones who were left behind.
Each of them carry scars of a life forgotten,
Each holding their own tale.
Each did it a diverging way,
Nevertheless; the result was the same,
Each of them uniting in this place of dead aspens.
Some of them were happy, living each day with a vigor of excitement,
Until one day on their way home something happened.
A soul of malice grabbed them, stealing and spearing their bodies open,
Taking life and giving anguish.
In their grief and misplaced shame,
They took blades, tearing open skin and waiting until they walked into our hostel of aspens.
Others were more subtle,
Dancing the fine line between starvation and the ‘perfect weight’.
They wanted to fit in so bad that they stood out,
The societal definitions of ‘beauty‘ degrading their bodies into hollow throbs,
Until one day they went to bed and woke up walking into our field of aspens.
Some of them were lonely,
Wandering messes of souls looking to love and be loved,
Some lacked friends, some were abandoned, some were deserted by their ‘companions’.
Some gave their heart, their soul, their everything, to those they cared for,
But after so long of being neglected, some gave into the desolation,
Some donned a necklace of thick rope until they found our hidden aspens.
Some had no reason, no inciting incident.
Some suffered a blend of solitary harm and consuming hollow,
Some had no incentive, no intent, no purpose.
To some the dark of nothing was better than the sting of Earth,
So they took what was hidden in the drawer, loaded it with promises of peace, pulled a trigger and discovered our sacred aspens.
Others lost their everything,
Those they loved to sick, to fire, to murder, to unfair circumstances.
Their parents, children, lovers, brothers, sisters--
The things that meant the most gone forever.
The ache was too much to endure,
So they numbed it with capsules of toxin until they were strolling among our secret aspens.
Others resided recklessly, existing in sojourn.
They dallied in reckless intimacies, missed meals, and forsake their own wellbeing;
Until one day they laid in a room of white,
Hearing the beats get softer and slower until they joined us in our growing home of aspens.
Some lived in a broken home,
Raining fists onto already bruised skin to rupture the spirit,
Frothing words of hate pouring into the already scarred psyche.
The words of parents, of lovers, of friends,
Poisoning the hearts of those already torn,
Pushing them to make their own herbal concoctions, observing the burn fade and roaming into our garden of aspens.
Some were never enough,
Their own flesh constantly demanding more,
Their own blood pulling them down into nothing.
Watching others earn the praise they never could receive,
Their own wills rupturing and diminishing entirely.
One day simply yielding and wandering into our loving eden of aspens.
Slowly our numbers grew,
Each of us meeting in these changing trees,
Each no longer in the misery of life,
Each of us welcoming the newest members with open arms and understanding.
After the strain of life, we all sorely needed it.
We are not the first, nor are we the last,
We are those of lost life and ongoing sacrifice,
We are the ones who guide these lost souls into the tranquility of our aspen grove.
Playing with my food.
Relaxing in the sun, for lunch I had
Some ham and half a haddock
They went together very well
As I lay in my hammock
My friend was eating half a chicken with a bowl of peas
They went together very well
And he enjoyed his chickpeas.
My mother finished making dough
And ate a bag of nuts
She sipped upon a cup of tea
Delighted with her donuts.
My brother looked for bluberries
Upon a little bush
But he got caught, and stuffed with ham
It must have been an ’ambush!
My sister had some currant jam
Spread over Blackpool rock
And as she sucked that sticky stick
She danced around to Jamrock
I sucked up on a sour lemon
As I walked through a gate
My old friend Watson asked me why
I said “It’s a lemon entry, mate.”
A Night I Should Always Remember
Ally stirred. She sluggishly turned on to her side groaning loudly at the throbbing headache racing through her temple. She squinted at the unusual amount of light passing through her bedroom window. She tried to open her eyes, which was met by an aggressive throb near the front of her skull. As her eyes slowly adjusted she looked around the room confused and in shock to find she wasn’t in her own room. The room around her was painted a creamy, off-white color. There was a flat screen TV mounted on the wall, opposite the bed she was lying on. It hung delicately above a natural wood dresser with bronze legs and handles. There were several palm tree looking plants in weaved wicker baskets around the room. The light from a large sliding glass door was muted by a thin white curtain hanging from a bronze bar mounted on the wall. The floor was entirely wood except for the fluffy white rug under the bed. Ally turned onto her other side lazily, closing her eyes again. She didn’t want to deal with this right now.
All of a sudden a loud snore came from the bed beside her. She jumped out of the bed landing clumsily on the floor. Her head ached and throbbed at the sudden movement. Her legs wobbled and crumpled beneath her out of shock and exhaustion. She grasped for the bed frame, pulled herself up, and steadied her wobbling body. Her head spun, dehydration getting the best of her. To keep herself from collapsing on the floor again, she squeezed the bedpost so hard that her hands went numb. When her vision finally cleared and she was somewhat confident that her legs would support her weight, she let go of the bedpost. She shook her hands lazily until they stopped tingling. Only then did she remember what had startled her in the first place. She slowly turned her head, as to prevent any excessive throbbing, towards the person she had evidently shared a bed with the previous night. A shirtless man lay sprawled on the bed, his chocolate curls cascading past his shoulders. His face was peaceful and for a moment the tension Ally held in her jaw began to melt. He was beautiful. Ally smiled slightly to herself, unable to remove her eyes from his flawless face. Another thunderous snore roused Ally from her stupor. Her heart raced, her head spun, and her stomach churned. She heaved, running towards a door she could only hope was a bathroom.
She kneeled, hunched over the toilet for 10 minutes, her stomach determined to rid itself from any and all contents. Finally, her stomach settled. She was a mess. Her eyes were burning and crying, snot was dripping out of her nose, and she had vomit and drool on her lips and chin. She forced herself to stand up and move to the sink. She bent over slightly, ignoring the pain in her head, and splashed cool, refreshing water on her face. She filled one of the plastic cups from the side of the sink, filled it with the cool water and took small sips, washing the taste of last night’s alcohol and stomach acid out of the mouth. She started to feel better. As she finished her first cup water she checked her phone to try to remember what had happened last night. She found a dozen or so pictures and videos from her friend with the caption “Congratulations! I had so much fun last night! How’s Mexico?” Congratulations? Mexico? She was in Mexico? How had that happened? She opened her camera roll to find a multitude of pictures of herself and the man who now slept soundly in the room just outside the bathroom door. They were wearing very fancy clothes. She had a sparkly white dress and he wore a three-piece suit.
He was even more beautiful in the pictures! His dazzling smile reached his magnificent blue eyes. His long, curly hair was pulled into a messy bun on the top of his head. Ally trembled looking at the pictures. She knew this was wrong. She had been way too drunk the night before and definitely couldn’t have gotten together with anyone like that on her own. She’d always been horrible at flirting. Another giant snore snapped her back to reality. She was in Mexico, over 300 miles from her home! She needed to get out of here. She gathered herself and snuck back into the other room. She tiptoed past the bed, towards the room’s door. Careful to not make a sound she twisted the handle and began to sneak through the door.
“Ally?” She winced. Had she not been silent enough? She peeked her head back into the room to see the man sitting upright on the bed squinting towards the door. He was just as beautiful as he had been while sleeping, except there was something different. A glimmer of recognition began in Ally’s head. Suddenly everything made sense. Alcohol had always had a strange effect on her the day after. Whenever she was hungover her brain went back about 5 years. She smiled mockingly to herself, internally laughing at her foolishness.
“Hi,” she said half-laughing and breathing a sigh of relief, “Welcome to your honeymoon, babe.”
Drunken Stars
Scenes flash in my mind. A beer. Tequila shots. A car ride home. All of the usual parts to my hangover. But not this one.
Nothing came to my mind as I sat in that hotel room in Mexico City. The air burned with desire to fall back asleep. I shunned the sunlight and closed the drapes as soon as I had woken up. My head throbbed, begging me to let it rest for just one more hour. My stomach rumbled as the thought struck me. How in the world did I get to Mexico City.
I thought about it for minutes, which felt like hours before giving up. How do I get back? What about my job? Where are my friends? What am I even doing here?
Thoughts raced through my mind for possible explanations. An abrupt knock and voice rung through the air interrupting my rush of thoughts. I glanced over at the clock, which flashed a bright red 10 am before allowing the room service lady to enter.
"Um, m'am, do you know when I checked in last night?" I nervously asked, mentally slapping myself on the forehead. Why would she know that?
She stared blankly at me before continuing her cleaning.
Right, I'm in Mexico.
I decided to grab the room card on the bedside table before heading out to the lobby. I was going to find out how I got here.
"M'am you checked in at 2 am last night," the hotel manager stated.
Great, now I just have to find out what happened between 10 pm and 2 am last night. So easy.
I left with my two best friends for some drinks and dinner at our local bar at around 9 pm. I remember taking a couple of drinks, a beer and three tequila shots. Was I roofied?
Suddenly, the sky turns dark and it becomes night again. The stars above shone brightly as I was greeted to a scene. Me. Ally. Dark. New York City. Guy.
An unspeakable moment of gory was presented to me. So I was roofied.
I look up at the stars once again and I realize that I am not looking up, but that I am looking down. Am I still drunk?
A shadowed figure approaches me.
"My dear, you are not drunk. You are dead."
I awoke with a startle and stared at my surroundings. The air burned with desire to fall back asleep...
Beach Siesta
I wake up
I hiccup
The sound of the lapping waves
Comes from next to me
I open one eye
And then the other
The sun is bright
Too bright
Too much for my aching head
Why am I here?
Where are my friends?
How much did I drink last night?
Another hiccup answers that
All the signs are in Spanish
Why didn’t I pay attention
In high school?
Maybe these signs would make sense
Maybe I could talk to the locals
Without a confused look on my face
Maybe I could figure out that I’m in. . .
Mexico?!
Thank goodness for tourist attractions
Wait. . .I don’t have my passport
It’s tucked away in my dresser
How did I get across the border?
What the hell happened last night?
Why am I alone?
I know, I’ll just call my friends
. . .and I lost my phone
Great. Just great.
I hope I still have my wallet
Feeling around. . .yes I do!
The hotel among the tourist attractions
Better have a room
Okay, I’ve got a room
I’m walking down the hall
Just about to put the key in my lock
“Hey idiot!”
What?
I spin around and there are my friends
Laughing at me.
They inform me about last night
Apparently I fell asleep on the beach
And in our drunkenness we got our passports
And drove across the border
But I drank the most
Our designated driver is sober
Tells me everything I missed
I walked into my room without another word.
And sleep until it was time to go back
Oh, and get some aloe for this sunburn.
©HeatherAnn
#Poetry #Poem #Challenge #ProseChallenge #ChallengeEntry