Another World's Ocean

Sitting at the bottom
of another world's ocean
Just rubbing my feet
through these grains of sand

When the sky clouds up
The waves toss loudly
Rolling with the thunder
Ignited with lightning energy

I can only marvel at it all
Wonder if I am seen
If I'm counted among the sand
If they know I watch their beach

Thinking

Life is short, hopefully the afterlife is shorter...and we're on to living again.  Seeing those we've missed.

Life will Never work out the way we dream or plan it.  There's always a bigger thing staring us in the face that is so big we can't see it until we're already too far into its tooth filled mouth.

I am still who I want to be but the reality is that all of us have to fight to fulfill our dreams.  I am determined to be a fighter, a survivor.  Even though reality is a never ending struggle.

Money rules us all whether we want it to or not.  It's unfortunate.  If we valued human life, the earth and ourselves as much as we value money, then we would not need it.  The world is cruel.

just a few thoughts...

If you haven't already...

Follow me on Facebook!  I'll be revealing some teasers about my book on here.  I put one of them up today.  The book is still in a rough draft phase, but the editing will be coming soon as well as (hopefully) some cover art.  I'm so excited!

http://www.facebook.com/klstewartbooks

Silence

Silence invades me
The oblivion of sound
The desecration of laughter
The vial of unspoken pains
of the spoken questions
that hurt to much to form an answer

Silence is the ominous space
of things left unsaid
of wishes dying
of breathless hope
becoming caged
in a place of what will never be

Crystal Coast Con 2013

I had a blast at the 2013 Crystal Coast Con.  I went again with fellow authors Lorenz Vassa Falls and Allana Lowe.  I got to see a lot of people that were there last year and I got to meet a lot of new faces.  I do hope to have some photos up soon (unfortunately not as many as last year, but still worth a look).  I was dressed as Sapphire from The Ruby Mountains and a lot of people enjoyed my home made unicorn crown.  Some people suggested that I sell the crowns next year (perhaps if there is time to make some I'll take this advice).  A lot of children got some free wishing stones, so that also made me feel good.  (Sometimes the little things can make all the difference).  It was fantastic.  I can't wait to go again next year.  I definitely have to make this a full-time job...until then, have fun and keep reading.

Free to interpret

          When I write, I don't normally think about exactly what other people think about my work.  I write because I love to do it.  I write because it is my primal instinct to create stories.  Even before I could read, I wanted to look at intricate illustrations in order to make a story out of them.  Telling stories is just what I've always done. 
          Now, I have learned over time that writing is more difficult if it is based on reality.  That is why, as in the case of She's Facing Me I chose to write my autobiography in poetry.  It comes naturally for me to tell my story to others in this way.  However, that leaves many things open for interpretation.  You may think you get it, but do you really?  Some poems are pretty straight forward, but some are more abstract.  The images that you get may be steeped in mythology, but there's something there that connects with my own reality, some parallel that exists in order for me to get out what must be said.
          Sometimes, especially when I put my soul out there for everyone to read, it can make me weak.  Sometimes I want to burn everything I've ever written, move to another country and start over.  Those times are rare, but they do exist.  Other times I look at my work and am humbled to be the vessel through which forces work to create these things. 
          I had a moment the other day that made me want to burn all my books and never write again.  Someone said something about one of the poems, and they had an interpretation that I had never imagined.  It was terribly offensive to someone that I love and I never meant to offend anyone by writing it.  After all, it is a book about my own life, not the lives of others.  Therefore it is steeped in my own emotions and no others.  However, what they said to me made me wish that I had never written the poem.

Things like this are bound to happen when you are a writer!

          I didn't burn the books, though, because I remembered who that book was for.  It was for me, it was for my mother, and it was for a little girl that I've never met.  I know she's out there somewhere.  A little girl like I used to be.  She needs the hope that this book brings.  She needs to know that forgiveness is possible and she needs to know that life gets better.
         Despite getting my feelings hurt and being embarrassed, I know that I put it in there for a reason.  And it doesn't matter what anyone else makes it out to be.  I have to respect the opinions and interpretations of others.  After all, that is the point of the kind of poetry that I write.  Not only does it speak to your emotions, it speaks to your imagination.  I want it to inspire.  I want you to have your own interpretation.  After all, not everyone can listen to the same song and get the same feelings or images in their head.  It is the same with my poetry.  I never meant any offense to anyone when I wrote the book.  So I will not apologize.  Apologies are for the guilty.  If you are offended, then that is something that you have put upon yourself.  I still love the person that said it, just like I still love my mother.  If anything, I take what they said to me as a lesson for the future.

So, I will continue to sell my work and let it be what it is.  Whether you like it or not, I will continue.  For me.  For my mother and for that little girl.

Little girl, wherever you are, it does get better.  I promise!

Ghost of the Wandering Child

So, here's some insight into something I'm working on.  The characters will make an appearance in the final work, but this poem (probably) won't.   What does this mean to you, if anything?

 Ghost of the Wandering Child

Are you me
or the woman I could be?

Is she here to make you remember
or did you call her here to forget?

This wandering child
alone in the world

crossed paths with your blade
the one regret you couldn't make

so she's back at your door
maybe in ghost form

she's wandering still,
just a chance meeting you here.

You never have to follow
she never has to see

Whether you're me
or just the woman I should be.