The nothingness

Copyright  December 21, 2014, by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Time's passing

Time flies swiftly through the world,

 Never stopping, never waiting,

Not a whisper can be heard,

Though the present's always moving.

Past grows long while future's leaving,

The yet to come is growing small,

Past grows longer, never changing,

But present moves for all.

Copyright December 21, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Fearing the dark

Fear of the dark is normal,

Because the night is nightmare's place,

For nothing honest hides its name,

And nothing of beauty hides its face.

Nothing true walks shadowed ways,

Shadows hide themselves in night,

For all the nightmares fear the day,

Because it hurts to face the light.

A person often walks by day,

And turns and flees from shining moon,

For many humans do believe

That darkness brings eternal doom.

It's okay to be afraid,

For darkness tries to swallow all,

The unknown scares us night and day,

And when it hits us hard, we fall.

Copyright December 1, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Dancing Alone

The music has started,

The dance floor is ready,

The people have partners,

But not me.

Some people are dancing,

The others are talking,

I want to dance,

But no one asks me.

Not brave enough to ask,

Not smart enough to see,

That there are other people

Waiting for partners, just like me.

I simply step out on the floor,

And look around at faces,

The smiling, happy people seem

To come from foreign places,

And so, my eyes trained on my feet,

I start to dance along,

But with no partner, only me,

In time to every song.

I must have looked so sad,

Alone, yet dancing all the same,

Weighed down  by weary feet,

Head bowed as though it rained.

Yet I was happy while I danced,

For I could dream a partner was there,

Someone who's always by your side,

In every place, no matter where.

Your partner may not be alive,

Unless you make them so,

It's a sense that only very few

Will ever get to know.

Copyright November 13, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

The poem with a title that is completely pointless other than to fail at informing you the subject of the poem and to bore you before you even get to reading the poem which has no purpose other than to entertain and possibly inform or enlighten you or make you curl into a ball and cry. Simplified, a poem on poems.

What is the purpose of poems?

What makes the words poetry?

Is there something hidden between the lines

That only the crazy deep thinking nerds can see?

Some poems don't rhyme,

So rhyming's not the key,

Is it that poems must always contain

A secret, personal meaning?

What makes a poem a poem,

Is there a secret that makes it so?

If I knew it, I would tell you,

But honestly, I don't know.

Copyright November 10, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

If mercy was a legend

If mercy was a legend,

If no one cared for the poor,

Mistakes were not forgiven,

Leaving us always at war,

If grace was the unthinkable,

If love was barely seen,

If good did not exist,

What sort of persons would we be?

The lonely would stay alone,

The sad could only cry,

The homeless would never have a home,

The rejects would simply die.

The girls who search for their Prince Charming

Would search but would not find,

For happiness was drained away,

And good things left behind.

If no one cared for the unlucky,

If no one chose to say,

"I'll stand up for the weak and poor,

I'll be with them all the way."

The ones that fell would never find,

A hand to help them rise,

For all the rich would never care,

And the rejects would simply die.

Copyright November 9, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

The past affects the future

The past creates the present,

And the time that's yet to be,

What happens will affect us all,

And the way in which we see.

A troubled man, abused, despised,

With a past that's full of hate,

Will respond in ways that are his own,

And his future he shall create.

An orphan girl that's poor and weak,

And yet is kind to all,

When troubles rise her past will decide

If she will rise or fall.

Memories make us ourselves,

They define our character,

They've made the person that you are,

Who you'll be, and who you were.

The good things you must dwell upon,

The bad things you reject,

For though the kind may be frail and weak,

They will grow stronger yet.

But when they think of evil, fear,

Hunger, hate,  the cold and wet,

Those memories are not ones they'll cherish,

But ones they will regret.

Copyright October 31, 2014. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author. (Post a comment about what you would like me to write about next time!)

Clantine's poem: A revision of Sondalor's poem

At one point in my books, Sondalor will tell his poem, and Clantine will refute that with a poem of her own.

Sondalor: Sticks and stones may break my bones,

Words leave scars that never heal,

Pictures tear your life apart,

And memories are made of steel.

Paper claws and fangs of ink,

Tear your heart and leave a hole,

Making nightmares from your dreams,

Emptying a hope-filled soul.

Where is there to find a place

From angry eyes and hateful words?

For though the blood may wash away,

The words can never be unheard.

Clantine: Sticks and stones may break your bones,

But words can heal the ugly scars,

Pictures remind us of hope,

And memories can take you far.

Paper herbs and shields of ink,

Boost you up when you are low,

Turning nightmares into dreams,

Bringing hope to empty souls.

Why hide yourself into the dark,

And take the blows that other give?

Though hateful words cannot be stopped,

Kind words remind us to live.

Copyright October 28, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

The nightmare I created

The nightmare I created,

Was once a pure white sky,

But as time passed it grew darker,

Darker than the blackest night.

The nightmare is a beast that crawls

Around the corners in the night,

Always close, very close,

But never coming to the light.

No light reflects off his scales,

No talons shining bright,

The only sparkle is in his eyes,

That glow with cold delight.

The nightmare's eyes are always watching,

Never blinking, never moving,

Claws scratching on the windows,

Teeth clicking, smile widening.

Blood is dripping from his lips,

From his talons, on the floor,

Smeared across every surface,

Every carpet, every door.

Everyone has their own monster,

Everyone has their own nightmare,

Something crawling, coming closer,

And they know when it's there.

Fed off fear, despised and hated,

The monster grows or shrinks in time,

You have one that you created,

A perfect nightmare for each night.

I feel sorry for my nightmare,

Though it's heart is cold as stone,

It's only purpose is to scare me,

But I think that it's quite alone.

Copyright October 24, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Alone

Standing at the corner, waiting

For the bus to take him home,

Knowing well that he's a stranger,

With nowhere else to go.

Standing there at prom night,

The teenager girl waits for a dance,

But the music starts, and she's alone,

She knew that it was just a chance.

In the classroom, there's a girl,

Who's  known the answers from the start,

But she's been shunned, she's 'not cool',

And they don't care how it hurts her heart.

Afraid, confused, shunned, and hurt,

These people don't know what they can do,

I know that, because I was one of them,

And it's possible, maybe you are too.

Friends are important in your life,

But a thousand fake friends do nothing at all,

So find a real friend to spend your time with,

Someone who catches you when you fall.

Everyone's alone at one time or another,

And what we need best is a best friend's hand,

Someone to cheer with us when we are soaring,

And when we fall, to help us stand.

Copyright October 20, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

My childhood friend

When I was small, I had a friend,

That no one else could see.

No one else knew she was real,

No one else but me.

I grew a little older,

 But she was still my only friend.

Just us, as one, for so, so long,

I thought that it would never end.

I talked to her,

And she responded,

Many words were exchanged,

Sometimes she had a different form,

But she was still the same.

I grew older again,

And it was quite surprising to see,

For my friendship circle of one,

Expanded to three.

In time, I forgot my childhood friend,

But sometimes in the night,

I remember her, now distant and sad,

And I try to make things right.

But she was gone, no longer there,

So I did what I could do,

I encased her inside a book,

So others could share her, too.

She is helping others now,

But I've found new friends.

But I remember when I promised

That ours wouldn't end.

I cannot tell you who she is,

For she doesn't have a name,

But she is there for everyone,

No matter if they are the same.

There are those who do not care

For what she does for all,

But I gave her away to try to help

All those, the great and small.

One day, perhaps, we'll meet again,

And smile happily,

And maybe then, when she is there,

The whole world can see.

Copyright October 16, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This  post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author

The lonely shadow

The shadow is lonely,

For nobody cares,

No one acknowledges

That he is there.

When they do,

They don't talk to him,

They don't know there's a soul,

That the shadow hides within.

He faithfully follows us,

Through every day,

Even when the light threatens

To melt him away.

If he could, he would stay

In the darkness, his home,

He becomes part of the black,

So he's not so alone.

Yet there are things he would rather not do,

When he protests, nobody hears,

He must do it no matter if it's right or wrong,

And he's helpless to shed his own tears.

He longs to be free when the sun has gone down,

To hide in the midst of the night,

But too soon the clock tells the shadow it's morning,

And alone, he must brave the cruel light.
Are we so unfeeling,
That we cannot see,
How he suffers, and what do we give?
We're less feeling towards those that aren't human like us,
It's a life that the shadows must live.

Copyright October 13, 2014 by Christina Gatchel and her shadow friend. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the authors.

The dance of life

The dance of life lasts forever,

From morning to the setting sun,

The music never stops at all,

The dance is never done.

Every partner starts alone,

With little steps on little feet,

Others will teach them how to dance,

And for them, the dance is sweet.

Then, as the person finds the beat,

They try more complicated steps,

Sometimes it's frustrating, but

Before they know it, they do that dance best.

Then on and on they twirl and spin,

And watch the partners, hand in hand,

Until two meet and one will ask

If they may have this dance.

Then, partners, they will dance away

Through slow and fast, through every storm,

They smile as more dancers come,

And cry when others go away.

One day the partners will grow weary,

Struggling to step in time,

Then at last, they know its time,

And they must leave the dance of life.

Your dance of life will end one day,

So dance your best through thick and thin,

For those who leave the dance floor,

Cannot dance the dance of life again.

Copyright October 9, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

The dance of Autumn

The dance has started, the dance of Autumn,

The green has faded from the leaves,

The trees stand tall and wave their branches,

And clear, glass waters pool beneath.

The trees are decked with gold and red,

The music starts, and the dance begins.

The wind twirls partners round and round,

In a dance that seems to never end.

The leaves, the partners, spiral fast,

Their own moves somehow intertwined,

Like silken thread holds every one,

And moves them all in time.

The leaves swoop down and then soar high,

The sun sets in the sky,

The wind fades, and the partners rest,

Until the sun may rise.

Then up again! To dance all day,

While new partners join,

And the beauty is for all to see,

No one must pay a coin.

The older partners leave the dance,

And lay on barren ground,

To make a carpet for whoever,

Happens to come round.

Then the children come, with little rakes,

And a different dance begins,

The fallen partners pile together,

And the children jump right in.

The piles of leaves cushion the children,

As they dance in their own ways,

To jump on gentle leaves and then

To leave at the end of the day.

Too soon the dance comes to a close,

 For children often tire,

And fallen partners are put in bags,

And thrown into the fire.

The leaves that once shone gold and red,

Are now a murky brown,

And none dance gaily with the wind,

For they all have fallen down.

And so the Autumn dance ends,

The beauty hidden once again,

But, patient ones will keep good cheer,

For they know the dance is every year.

Copyright October 6, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

The masks

How much do you know of me?

How much do I share?

Can you see the thoughts that

Even I don't know are there?

Can you guess my secrets deep,

Hidden under veils of lies?

Do you know my cheerful face

Could merely be a disguise?

Or maybe when I smile wide,

All can see just who I am,

And when I'm happy, I have a reason,

I'm happy because I can.

The happy plastic mask is nothing

Compared to a true grin,

For if you smile from the heart,

It shows you're happy from within.

Every day is a masquerade,

To someone, somewhere,

Who carries lies of sorrow and hate,

And thoughts that they would never share.

So when the mask is taken off,

Then what will you look like?

Will you glow with love or be like

Darkness in the light?

Copyright October 2, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Happy trails to you until we bleed again

Happy trails to you until we bleed again,

The blood that spills in future times means that ones path will end,

But for now we go our separate ways, not enemies, nor friends,

So happy trails to you until the blood will flow again.

Happy trails to you,

It's the only way you see,

For one must lose their life to keep their human dignity.

Until we bleed again,

A truce between us two,

But if one should break their promise,

What could the other do?

So go along your happy trail,

And when you reach the end,

I will be there, I'll be waiting,

And we can begin again.

Whether we clash with knives and swords,

or weapons made of lead and steel,

One will fall on blood-stained grounds,

With wounds that shall never heal.

So leave my sight, for if I could,

I would forget your name,

But one will fall by a final blow,

And neither one will be the same.

This war has gone for so long now,

I've wondered why we fight,

But I remember our gruesome past,

And I know I'm doing right.

So as I said before,

There's a happy trail for you,

Until the blood falls from one's neck,

But for now, I bid adieu.

Copyright September 29, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Be Brave

When words are flowing,

Do not stop them,

But think before you say,

For some words lurk there, waiting, hoping,

For a chance to run away.

When life is hard,

Stay and face it,

But know what you can be,

For when the silver lining shines,

will you be there to see?

When people laugh at you,

Do not hide,

But stand up brave and tall,

For those who face humiliation,

Are the bravest ones of all.

If people press you to do something,

That you don't want to,

And they will know,

Be brave for standing up to them,

It's your choice whether to go.

So say your thoughts, but carefully place your words.

Do not run from hard tasks when they're at hand,

Rather, face the people laughing at your mistakes,

Instead of following others, take your own stand.

Copyright September 22, 2014, by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Sondalor's poem

Sondalor is a dragon in one of my books. His past forms his future into a living nightmare as he comes closer and closer to the brink of insanity. In this poem he voices his thoughts about the power of words and allows the reader to grasp a hint of why he is going crazy.

Sticks and stones may break my bones,

Words leave scars that never heal,

Pictures tear your life apart,

and memories are made of steel.

Paper claws and fangs of ink

Tear your heart and leave a hole,

Making nightmares from your dreams,

Emptying a hope-filled soul.

Where is there to find a place

From glaring eyes and hateful words?

For though the blood may wash away,

The words can never be unheard.

Copyright September 22, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Living Stories

Wispy clouds of mist swimming through my fingers,

Drops of rain hang from branches over my head,

A soft wet field of grass beneath my bare feet,

A sheet of smooth, soft silk for my bed.

In my imagination, my stories come alive.

I fly with dragons and elves through every day.

I laugh and talk with angels and birds of fire,

And while racing giants, reality feels far away.

I listen to all of their stories and tales,

I never forget a feather or scale,

For I gave them their stories, I gave them a life,

And they dance with me joyfully all day and night.

When reality calls me, we cry together,

For here in this world we are sister and brother,

In my world, no one judges you by your size,

What clothes you wear, the color of your eyes,

For giants are large, and fairies are small,

as for dragons-why, they don't need clothes at all!

Who cares if you have one eye or two eyes or four,

You can still see, after all, that's what eyes are for.

In the real world, first they look at your face.

If your hair is a mess, you must be a disgrace.

Then your shirt, shoes, pants, arms and then hands,

And if you're ugly to them, things won't go as you planned.

Then, if you look fine, they check if you're smart.

Almost the last thing they check is what's in your heart.

I've been judged by the way that i think.

To some, I'm a genius, to others, a freak.

I know that I'm different, I know that I'm strange,

But why would I want any of that to change?

I'm beautiful from what I see,

That's confidence, not vanity.

But I don't think of these things on my own,

With my fantasy friends, I'm never alone.

Copyright September 18, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author. (That would be me.)

Ghosts

Names remain but faces gone

Like ships lost out at sea.

I wonder if I am a ghost to them,

Like they are a ghost to me.

Faces there without a name

Inside my memory,

I wonder if I am a ghost to them,

Like they are a ghost to me.

People from my past are there,

Somewhere.

They visit me inside my dreams.

Though distant in my mind, I know they're there.

Somewhere.

They wait for me.

Copyright September 15, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

The mirror

I passed my mirror on the wall,

It stood so proud and strong and tall.

And as I watched, it spoke to me,

"Child, what do you think of me?"

The mirror took me by surprise,

And as I stared in my own eyes,

I said, a little shakily,

"Mirror, what do you wish to be?"

The mirror said, "I wish that I

Could travel under the big blue sky,

and see everything there is to see,

And that is all I wish to be."

I pressed my palm on his design,

And said, "You suit our house just fine.

But mirror, could you please tell me,

when I grow up, what will I be?"

My reflection smiled wide,

A little gleam inside my eye.

"You will be just who you are,

A beautiful girl, a shining star,

But persevere, and do not bend,

Lest your dreams come to an end."

I told him, "You speak such strange words,

How can you know what you've never heard?"

My friend, the mirror, winked at me.

"One day, maybe, you will see."

Copyright September 8, 2014 by Christina Gatchel. This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

(Note from author: This is not because I don't like you people, it's only because there are not-so-nice people on the internet who would love to steal my ideas.)

Scattered thoughts: Skies

Where I live, the sky shines bright and blue all day long.

Where I live, clouds are mere wisps of white that float like feathers, swift and light.

But now winter is coming, and large, billowing capes of clouds spread across the sky,

but I don't mind.

If you look hard enough, you can see the tears in the fabric of floating rain.

If you climb a mountain, you can see the light shining through the gaps,

like God's fingers stretching from heaven.

I remember when the skies were so big and full,

I would lay in the grass and just gaze at the heavens,

and the sky looked like a giant bowl placed over the earth.

Where I live, the sun beats down with nothing to hide the glare from the cracked and dusty ground.

Cars that should have gleamed stand dry and dusty in the parking lots.

That's why I don't mind when the clouds arrive,

and the giant ball of light that floats in the air  is veiled.

That's why when the rain falls in sheets,

and the thunder is roaring,

and bolts of lightning fall to the ground,

I smile.

Copyright September 4, 2014 by Christina Gatchel This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Sunset

Sunset

Black winged shadows take flight over land,

Shrouding the earth in a veil of darkness.

Cold fingers grasping, withered hand,

Creeping stealthily, filling every crevice.

While high in the air, an orb of light,

Descends from her mighty throne,

And her pale brother takes flight,

But in midst of the stars, he's alone.

Copyright Aug. 30, 2014 by Christina Gatchel

This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Clantine

Clantine is the main character from Dragon Academy.

Type of Dragon: Fire
Career: Protector
Age: Hatchling at the beginning of Dragon Academy
Parents: Armangato and Flamedrake
Siblings: Willowill and Amnia
Favorite saying: "If I'm going to die, I'm going to die fighting. After all, what have I got to lose?"


Copyright Aug. 30, 2014 by Christina Gatchel
This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Storm

Lighting flashing through the clouds,

There one second, then it's gone,

Thunder booming as though saying

See our power, see it strong.

See the lightning bring down buildings,

See the thunder deafen men,

Watch the rain flood streets and alleys,

watch the clouds that never end.

See the sun that cannot cut through

all the darkness we can bring,

Feel the rain that makes a song,

A beating rhythm for storms to sing.

Feel the power of the storm,

Feel the water drench your head,

See the lightning, there one second,

watch the clouds that never end.

Copyright Aug. 30, 2014 by Christina Gatchel

This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Mountain Gaurd

casting shadow o'er the ground,

making nary of a sound,

cold, hard hard rock against the wind,

A guardian of stone,

snow settles on the highest peak,

But no complaints the mountains speak,

a giant shelter from the wind,

standing all alone.

Copyright Aug. 30, 2014 by Christina Gatchel

This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.

Leaves

Little petals falling round,

Never stop, make no sound,

Round and round the tree they fly,

strong fall wind tossing them high,

colors spiral in the breeze,

flitting through the leafless trees,

carpeting the ground and then,

the wind will pick them up again.

Copyright Aug. 30, 2014 by Christina Gatchel

This post may not be copied or reproduced without express permission from the author.