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.