Story Title: Poetry Club - March 2011


Author: Hikari no Vikki

Genre: Life/Poetry

Description: A collection of poems written for my high school poetry club in March 2011.

Author's Notes:

These poems were written during the years I participated in my high school's resident poetry club around the beginning of October 2010. Some months had a lot of inspiration, some didn't. Some poems I just forgot to date. (But they're listed in rough chronological order.) So I decided to put them up here for people to see. I graduated high school on June 4th, 2012, so the poetry club series will only go until about May 2012. Enjoy!


Repercussions - 3/3/11

My palms bead with slick sweat and salty tears
fly fast across my face into my mouth
as my heart drums in my chest and my fears
force the burning on my lips to move south.

Fire consumes me, I writhe on the sheets
both in my pain and in thrall of my pain
in my head and chest every time it beats
my tongue is dust as I try to stay sane.

There is also an otherness to this
explosion of heat and burning passion
that brings me near the edge of heaven's kiss
and back down to earth in pure, true fashion.

I lie there, spent, wishing I had said no
and not have eaten that jalapeƱo.


Instigator - 3/4/11

You started this, now come here
and finish this like a real man.

You say you're innocent, but the red paint
on your hands says otherwise,
now it's time to clean up, I'm no saint
here to help unless you repent
and denounce your lies.

You've always liked to push buttons
that weren't only the ones on my remote
and you forgot that when the light
is green the trap is clean.

Except the light is red, and red means dead,
like the red on your hands.

You started this, now it's time to finish it,
and you can't put it off till later, so
come and face the music, you little instigator.


A Vision of the Future - 3/4/11

I see, with eyes both now and then,
into a possible future.

Listen carefully to want I'm about to say.

We've been pressed too far,
fallen too hard on hard times,
and there aren't enough people
to stop the coming revolution.

The people that try to fight?
Their blood lies in the shadows,
gleaming on the steps of the Capitol,
christening the new era of tyranny.

Rome has fallen,
and the Holocaust begins again,
beginning with anyone
who isn't 'us' or doesn't belong.

One by one, like sick, past ripe fruit,
the great powers die to this illness.

Those among the dead?

They are innovation, imagination,
creative presentation, and many more
expressions of this once great age.

Some lie dying, some are beyond
death as they sink into oblivion.

And then I woke up, and I remembered that
the reality of my nightmares
has yet to come true, and the reality
that I've come to love
and cherish and respect still exists.

But one day, it could happen.

So the real question is then,
if such a vision ever comes to light,
will you be among the living dead,
or will you fight?


Finding Dreams - 3/11/11

Recently, I experienced a moment
in the comfort of my ink and paper
where my contents became a familiar dream.

I shared a moment with another mind
with eyes that saw what was beyond
recollection of the fleeting fractions
of true, deep sleep.

And we remembered.

I remembered with that other mind
in my mind the dream that I resembled
mirroring with a startling clarity
something special.

Something that should give us hope.

For though our dreams might fade as fast as our looks,
we can always find them again in our beloved books.


Wish (Revised) - 3/11/11

It's a very small thing,
so unlikely,
not at all worthy to be seen.

It's so cold, but so very warm,
and so soft, it's gentle to one's touch.

It's heavy to those whose hearts are gone
to dust not fit to be beneath their feet,
but it is light to those who smile and laugh,
cherishing the good times and the bad.

There is a road, one we've all taken,
and made signs to lead us, guide us, keep us.

This road is short,
this road is long,
weary, worn, trodden upon,
this road keeps up with every change,
this road is every wish we've ever made.


Want (Revised) - 3/11/11

I want someone to hold me at night,
one who completes, but keeps my sight.
I want someone who hardly ever fights,
but defiantly defends his place in my life.

I want someone warm on cold days,
with kind, understanding, gentle eyes.
I want someone who loves music,
plays music, my music with a soft soul.

I want someone who will sing to me,
who will laugh and cry with me.
I want someone who never fails
to know me and he will get all this
and more from me.

But wonder something.
Do all these things I've said exist?
It is possible for them to be one,
or am I doomed to just want and want?


Tidal Wave - 3/24/11

Sand beneath my toes washes away
with the crystalline sea
that I have never actually seen.

The wind smells of salt and excitement
that thrums beneath the waves.

And in a sudden motion, I am swept away
from myself and the world
that I have not seen
into and upon the closing open sea.

Then I am riding a wave
not of my own volition, my own knowledge
is useless in this wet, wild world
that is filling and emptying all of me
and when it is finished,
deposits my shell upon the sand.

The again, as the water washes the sand,
I pick up my shell... and hear the waves.


Listening - 3/25/11

I listen to everything.

When the papers pile upon me
and I am drowning in ink and splinters,
I take a moment to breathe.

When the pain from running
is so great I can't breathe, I'm drained
and I am caught up in an endless cycle
of monotonous clocks and bells,
I find moments to take breaks, and I sleep.

Because usually sleep comes if I wait long enough.

And then when it's crunch time
and I'm up until odd hours trying to fit
more minutes into the day
so I can finish the race against me
I lay back to hear the satisfaction.

So now I'm in the home stretch, still running,
hoping beyond and against hope: still listening.


My Brother - 3/30/11

There are many paths my kin might tread,
waters that will pry him from the shore
where he was born:

I see him as an athlete, a secretary, a mold
of many shapes and colors yet to be named or told
about by many circles as the greatest man alive
because he is great... in an Everyman sort of way.

He is Pandora's Box; many faults and a shining hope.

I can also see him doing good things
for all the wrong rhymes and reasons
such as one joins the army to escape life
at home, perhaps never to return the prodigal son.

And no matter how much I try, I am only a reminder.

Still, that myriad of circles or flowing red script,
scribbled on the planner that is his life,
if it sits there long enough,
might just be what saves him from himself.


Human Sestina - Undated

We are of ashes and dust, decidedly human
creatures of immeasurable spirit and soul
that are equipped with that brilliant weapon, the mind
capable of many great deeds bathed in light
and shadowed crimes steeped in dark
all locked within each mortal heart.

And yet, most mortals ignore their heart
calling, occupying their mind's fields with human
vegetable of greed and desire so thick and dark
it makes one wonder if they actually have a soul
floating somewhere devoid of light
searching for connectivity with an inaccessible mind.

It's a sad thing that we cast away our mind
and personal divinity because an immortal heart
cannot love any less than ours, even in light
circumstances they are more completely human
than we are ourselves, each with a soul
like us, that can triumph over the dark.

And oh, the irony, that we as dark
creatures can live in infamy in the mind
as perfect shells without a soul
that wishes - no - prefers the heart
in purity's immortality and, though human,
strives to bring its goodness to light.

Perhaps it's possible to pour out the light
from our pores so saturated with dark
by pausing to search for the human
immortal inside us, inside each mind
in each despairing, desolate heart
as long as we pause to listen for the soul.

I think, though, we should preserve our soul
instead of having to find it without light
because as long as we have a heart
we must guard our thoughts from the dark
and think things in our mind
that are only beneficial to all that are human.

We are human, each with an immortal soul,
that to preserve with a reverent mind and heart
must keep the balance between light and dark.


Not exactly sure when the last one was written, but I wrote another sestina in April as well, so I decided to put my Human Sestina here with my March 2011 poems. Hope you enjoyed it! :)

- Hikari no Vikki