young

Remember when we used to run through the tall grass
and drop our secrets in the wind
open up your pockets to gift me with our handshake
by the pink fragrant flowers and the third pole we fought over so we could be pitiful in the shade
the melancholy days when the sun seemed to fog up the sky
and you ran to her so we could be
witches, cats, moviestars
we churned popcorn with woodchips on fridays
and dust with rough knees
when he put his finger to his ear you'd grab my hand so our steps would stitch
those flowers we picked to drop and the slide that only worked when your shoes weren't too sticky
you would sing that me and him were sitting in a tree and, well,
you know the rest
so I went back to that 3rd pole to be pitiful in the shade
but by lunch recess I had forgotten because that's just how forgiving I was
back when we were
young

Now together
we still run through the grass
but it seems less tall
we've learned to seal our secrets in lips tight
our handshake has gotten longer
and shade has gotten bigger
but you still grab my hand so our steps will stitch
and I tease you about you and him sitting in a tree,
but now you blush
and we laugh
like we used to
now the slide is more like a pattern of life
than a carefree ride
but sometimes we'll go back to that place together
and remember
that we're still
young


~Flywriter

Her.

Long time no blog!
I wanted to share a little poem I wrote today in class.
Hope you enjoy!


She has the ocean in her eyes
can't you see?
Or do you have your fingers to tightly
laced across
the only bridge you have to her world
She's offering her soul to you on a silver platter
So why do you pull your veil
so tight
tending to your teacup
try not to clink your plate
awake the demons that you to tenderly
hide

She has the trees in her voice
can't you tell?
her fluttering tongue speaking
patterns old and worn
grasping wind hoping
it would pull you towards
the captivity of her heart
but you still push,
your palms up in defense
because you can't handle being intoxicated
by the one dose of medicine that could
numb your aching branches

her.

Updates and poems!

Sheesh it has been a while!
First of all happy new year, I look forward to a year full of new blog posts.
I apologize for my lack of posting, I actually broke my arm in late September which kept me busy for a while and then it was the holidays and traveling and I was busy with school and blogging was not on my mind.
But now I am happy to be back! I wanted to share a poem with you that I actually got the privilege to read at a writers event. One of my friends mom's and a woman who interviewed me for a local paper both do a local writers club/ event group and I was invited to share something. The requirements for the piece were under 3 minutes, and it had to include 3 words: slump, jingle and interlude. At first I was very daunted by this task but over the course of a couple days I wrote this poem that's actually pretty personal to me. I hope you enjoy it and find things you can relate to.


Anxiety
©Quinn Smart

Throw your arms to the sky, attempt to break the binds of life that isolate you to your own mind
As you try to shake the emotional slump off your back like a silk sheet
Shoulder
Claws dug into your skin
Clinging to you
Dripping
Overcoming your mind
Gnawing into your imagination
Naïve
Darkness
Blurred life
Pinpoint vision
Kick up the dust climb,drive,fly,run
Fight to find the interlude in the thought skipping like a record
Caged and clawing through the bars
Turmoil racing through your stomach
Deep in a pit you can’t quite reach. One full to the brim
Your demons trick shop
Ready to whip out anything to enervate you
Stick out its foot. That embarrassing dream you never had, but real.
Thoughts on replay like the commercial jingle stuck in your head
Battle scars
Surveying the mountain that’s looming ahead, before you realize you’ve already peaked.
Alone in a crowd.
Angel wings battered and frayed, hands held but not felt.
But beginning to see, bright eyes hidden
Clouds passing, you think of a small girl
Arriving as she goes, and the pictures you kept in the hatbox
So close yet pounding walls invincible
Feeling the earth crumble can be unnerving, unless you know
You know that it’s you. A force
Freeing wings long forgotten
Hidden among the tangible metaphors so perfectly organized against your will.
Tied. Ropes cut and fingers stretched.
Numb soul but a glint
You shake as the words trace the twisting path
Intense tongues trying to explain
Only getting so far before you weep
And then straighten again
Strong hands pulling shoulders back
Lift your face, feel the light that emerges so suddenly,
Gone. Yet when you look away, arriving still to lead you.
Somewhere towards that place you used to like.
Sitting in wait, what an old thing
Now, ankles bound
Running still
In here, finger to your heart
Break away
From that parking lot
Done
Ready to begin
Over with the mountain, the jail, chipping at the bricks
Escape
No need for a replay, only a rebound
And deep down you believe
This is it
And shadows of past may haunt you, never forgotten,
But you’re as true as ever. Solidity, a good feeling, one you must get used to
Shouldn’t be too hard
As you remember
Fingers in grass and a wish
You don’t believe in stars
Only yourself
The one thing always there
As you’ve been taught, but only soon believed.
And ready to fight, weapons at your side.
Face of a warrior, many you’ve met and trained,
Till death do us part my dear monster,
But when fingers slip and minds collide
Earth shattering
Freefalling
And a last laugh
One enjoyed through the depths of a once porcelain being
Fragile
And now rewarded
Seeking something no more
Only found
And relieved

~Flywriter

summer

I lay on my back, face to the sky, watching a fly paint a picture on the sky blue canvas. I wondered if flies are consciously making patterns in the air, and if we watched them if it would reveal a secret code. My mind wandered. Fly brains,wings,oxygen, and I came back. Trampoline underneath me, breeze on my feet.
I willed my body to move, and lay my feet in the soft grass.
I began to walk home, slow down I told myself. I was a kettle on a stove. I looked: trees, they talked to me. I always loved them, they were creatures. Wise,sensitive, and also a wonderful audience. They whispered to me, told me to think and be grateful. I thanked them, they went back to their own communion. Pavement, feet on pavement, body on feet. Simple life, slow and warm and ambling. I worded this blog post, realizing I must capture a moment and warm it in my palms and then let it soar. Like a firefly.
The ocean spread in front of me, and somewhere deep in my soul, I was swimming. Letting my body carve through blue ocean, and feeling it gently caressing me. The wind blocked the sound of birds, and I realized:
I am alone.

exhale and be. My feet kept walking, and an echoing train horn reminded me of civilization. I cradled a flower in my grasp, and noticed something I never noticed before. I was so grateful for it. Just, for life. My feet were walking still. They seemed to know what to do. Even when I didn't always.


flywriter

PAD#12-crave

Quick note: I suggest you read this while listening to "Sail" by awolnation. I wrote the poem while listening to this song. It makes a difference
~Flywriter


Toes hang off the edge to grab the trapeze
Fire eyes and a swift maneuver to avoid the rock at half and half rapids
exhilarate
Chest fills like the sails as we heel over through the waves
Find my inner Jeb Corliss
and FLY
the only thing i've ever wanted to do
come alive
climb
soar
full moon and toes dip
enchanted
Find the strength
and forget the part of you that thinks
be that person you called foolish
fall
and get back up
you've done it
you caught his wrists
the trapeze trick you could never do
done
but never finished
playground
I crave
fingers shake
and all I want is to feel that
heart beat
free fall
ice cold water cradle my gentle form
and the tight air life on my wings
you know
adrenaline

Music

Honestly, until now I never really understood what people meant when they talked about music being so moving, helping them get over things, and overall meaning so much to them. Don't get me wrong, I always loved listening to music. But it was never something where a song completely changed me or helped me. It was just... a song.
It wasn't one song that changed my view, but simply a time in my life and experiences I had, that made me suddenly realize that I was on pandora constantly. As I listen to the joyous techno opening of Owl City's "On the wing" It's kind of a haunting feeling. While the music begs to be lighthearted, It's like one of those horror movies where the disneyland ride has been taken over, and is childishly creepy. Something about that song though is so addicting. Everytime I hear it I start to feel like my blood is pumping, And this is only one song. Over the last few months I've rotated through umpteen songs that have made me feel like this, and some of them are so random! I wouldn't say that the Barenaked Ladies "Pinch Me" is my kind of music. But something about that melancholy, lazy afternoon song gets me everytime. Another one: one of my favorite youtube musicians "ChesterSee" got together with my favorite American Idol castoff Andrew Garcia, and they wrote a song called girl of my dreams. Just Youtube search Andrew Garcia Girl of my dreams, and if you agree with me that they both have raw talent and amazing writing skills, then you agree that they should be on the radio.
Everyone has their song, like my two friends L and E who have recently bonded over greenday. By no means do I consider either of them "Greenday type people" but I do know that these songs to them are like On the wing to me. There is really something therapeutic about music though. I understand now completely what those people meant. And I would love to hear about your favorite songs to, because I know you have some. I did, even before I realized it.

Dear Flyreaders.

hmmm. Where do I begin? The fact that I haven't written a post in an embarrassingly long time? I still haven't finish PAD? I have too many things in my head to even churn out a well written blog post? I don't know. On the brighter side, I have tons of ideas in my head for poems and stories and real life happenings that can be put here, I just haven't actually taken the time to sit down and type. You wan't an excuse? I'm lazy. I'm busy. My fingers are tired and can't possibly type one more word. You just tell me when to stop.
But anyway, I finally can reveal what piece of literature my found poem came from!
That short little poem came from an old book that I found in my house when I was doing history one day and I recognized the name on a small black leather bound book. The Carnegie Steel Company Pocket companion, circa 1923. If you are not familiar with Andrew Carnegie, He was a successful business man in the steel industry in the early 1900's. The book we have was a handbook that the workers would carry when they built the railroads. It has lots of mathematical formulas for building the right pieces and knowing what goes where. It's practically incomprehendable for someone who has no understanding of 1: engineering 2: extreme math and 3: engineering like vocabulary.
But it is very entertaining to look through, and possibly, find a found poem.

Thats all for this short update, and I promise I will have some real posts soon.
<3
Flywriter