Tag Archives: dreams

Better in the Morning

Everything is better in the morning.

I’m pretty sure my dreams last night were about you

acting like you loved me and stuff,

and I’m sure that had no impact on me

waking up with hope

and cheerily,

after hitting snooze five times,

because those dreams were just too good to stop.

No impact at all.

It’s always hard for me to stop those dreams,

leave the comfort of my made up reality,

and face the world in which

you love me

but not as much as I hope,

never as much as I dream.

Either my heart forgot its aches in the night,

or I dreamed that you loved me,

either way, I’m somehow better in the morning.

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Beautifully Rejected.

The most beautiful thing

I saw today

was a baby’s laugh,

God in my presence,

and your eyes, ever smiling, staring at me with a look that brought back images of that child and God’s glory all in one.

The beauty of my heart is that it is so easily touched by love.

The tragedy of my heart is that it is so easily touched by love.

Three months ago I wouldn’t have cared. Three months ago, I lie. When did you see me and ask me how I was, look into my eyes and notice the pain I wouldn’t share, and try to soothe my soul?

Why didn’t I let you?

Because I can’t let people in.

I can’t share the pain and the heart, because then I want you to be a greater part of this life, and you don’t want to be.

I could have done it, could have let whatever was broken be shared, and potentially repaired by your craftsman hands, and slowly fallen deeper into admiration of you, but I would have gotten stuck.

Stuck in the love and wanting to be love and be a part of something, while you were just being kind.

So I share too much with strangers, but not enough, and then when friends come by I let the heart remain untouched.

True, is this true? How much is true…

I attempt to guard my heart from the inevitable fall, and I lose myself in the process.

Shutting myself off to the love, I curl up and cry.

Giving too much of myself and being rejected, I feel like I want the feeling heart to die.

So I lose and I lose, and I don’t know if I’ll win,

or if I’ll just fall and break my own heart again.

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A poem: Guard her heart.

You stole my heart, and I didn’t even realize it was missing until I saw you with her.

Then suddenly that heart was being shot straight through, more than pieces two.

Is there anyone who,

Can put it back together?

In a perfect world, you would have never got near it.

In a perfect world, you couldn’t just sear it

with your words and your being and your look and me seeing

how much I want to be with you and be like you, and be made new

by growing into love with you.

You stole my heart, I glanced back and suddenly it was gone

like the lyrics of a song,

something forgotten, on the tip of the tongue, that just won’t come.

You stole my heart, and I wish you wouldn’t pawn it, with all the love that’s on it,

I wish you’d keep it for yourself, to guard and keep in health,

to hold and love and cherish, but to you I think it’s garish.

Too much beat and shine, “I don’t want this to be mine”,

you’ll think upon the time, when the chance comes to let it go.

Let it go, let me go, or break the pieces that are left, from your unexpected theft, and me seeing you with her.

I hope you guard her heart.

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Poem: Don’t know much

I don’t know why I care so much, sometimes I wish I didn’t.
I don’t know why I want you here, but life just seems so empty without you in it.
I don’t like these jealousies, and for them there’s no excuse.
I’d give them up entirely, I hope they’ll be forgotten from disuse.

I don’t know why I care so much or what happened to begin it,
I don’t recall being swept off my feet or the falling, but I know I’m in it.
I don’t know what makes you so beautiful, so shining, such a delight,
All I know is that I feel more whole when you are in my sight.

I know it’s not just the way you look, because I didn’t notice that
Until I noticed what makes you you, and that is where I am at,
Noticing who you really are and how your beauty shines
More than just the sculpture of your face and body lines.

I don’t know why I care so much, but you’re something to care about
You’re beautiful in every important way and it makes me want to shout
Glory to God for making you, you’re such a treasure here
Glory to God, and now I’ll pray that somehow you’ll be near.

In space, in time, in friendship or love
In spirit, in soul, in any way God above
Deems right or perfect or true or saving,
For me to be with you I’m aiming.
I’ll accept what I’m given,
I’ll probably pray for more,
I don’t know why exactly,
I may never be sure,
but for reasons of love I want to be with you
and for reasons of love I wish you’d want to be with me too.

Maybe I know why I care so much, and why I wish I didn’t
Because you’re such a joy to love, and life’s not as good without you in it.

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Filed under Cdukulele's love life., Love Poems

Posting for realzies!

I keep logging into my blog and start considering posting something, and I even get so far as clicking the little pencil and starting a draft, and then I get distracted and quit.

I still haven’t finished my post for when someone nominated me for some award…I think it was the Versatile Blogger or something. Anyway, I’m tired, and just finished chatting with some person via the computer, so now I’m gonna post, because tired posts written after midnight are always the best…

POSTING.

So…I have a month of grad school left, and then I’ve finished my second semester….I have to write a 15 page paper designing a course by Sunday….I’m getting a haircut tomorrow…and that is my life.

I’ve also been watching random t.v. shows on Netflix for like, multiple hours a night…a lot of Walking Dead.

Last night I dreamed I was pretty much in a floating house train, and their were zombies outside, and by the end of the dream I had killed one with a knife. I have violent dreams, and it’s mostly due to zombies, and I should probably stop watching old episodes of Walking Dead on Netflix, but oddly, it is how my mom and I bond. She makes comments about how stupid the characters are and how they shouldn’t go anywhere alone ever, and I agree with her and point out that no one dies for another episode at least. Yep.

That’s pretty much it. Sometimes on weekends I play a board games with my family, and sometimes I play ukulele. I haven’t written a new song that people have liked since October. You could say I shouldn’t care whether they like it, but 80% of the fun of playing ukulele and singing is performing for other people, and bringing them joy and happiness…So I like writing songs that other people appreciate and enjoy. Sure, I’ll play ukulele anyway, when I’m not in class or stressing about class, or mindlessly watching zombie shows to recover from the boring reality of my chosen future profession (or at least the horrible dullness of the classes for the profession), but being able to share my music with people is just an entirely different level from playing music by myself in my room. I enjoy it, it makes me happy, and when it seems to make other people happy it feels like I’m doing something worthwhile. Unlike watching Netflix, and sitting in my classes. But the classes are working towards a profession where I will help people learn English, and that is worthwhile, and the Netflix is merely fluffing between the work that gives me a chance to try to handle it all again….except for the sake of my sleep I should really switch to a show that is not horror themed.

Night.

– Catherine

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Family values

I want to get married and have babies and take care of them and love and protect them and raise them.

I totally will probably stop writing sappy love songs if I ever actually get into one of those relationships.

Something must be up with my hormones. They’re in the I want to be a mother mode.

It’s like when my sister turned twenty-something and started running around the house and updating facebook statuses with things like “I WANT BABIES”.

It’s crazy the things you’ll say. Except she was in that mode for a good three years, and I think she’s still in it, she’s just less vocal about it since she broke up with her fiancee…

Anyway, I’m also willing to adopt small humans or just volunteer to help them with homework. That works too.

I’m too poor and totally single to actually become a wife and mother right now.

It must have been that country singer at the concert last night. His little daughter came over to me before the show and started trying to strum my ukulele, and she was freakin’ adorable. Then he invited his wife to come up on stage and sing some songs with him, and it was beautiful.

I want that love, you know? I want that purpose and that commitment and responsibility to taking care of a life and sacrificing your own life for the good of others. Plus I’d get to hold precious children in my arms and love them.

I get to do that anyway, I mean, I always have the opportunity to love others and sacrifice for them, and with my number of nieces and nephews there are plenty of small children to love…But it’s different than actually having your own little family unit, and your own children, and your own house and people to take care of.

So yeah…I want my own family someday. Some little grouping of people who might think I’m crazy and whom I occasionally embarrass with my ukulele playing and stupid jokes, but who love me anyway, and who play ukulele too because I taught them when they were old enough to walk. …

Anyway, that was just my random want-to-be-a-mom rant. It might be a sign of my aging…I did just turn 24.

Happy Sunday.

-Cat

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Shots of Nyquil – A poem –

Shots of Nyquil help me sleep
Sleep I do, but not so deep
Stuck in memories that keep
me shifting, tossing covers.

I am sick but I’m not cold
Still so young but feel so old
Wishing for the path untold
With fear of never trying.

Now I move to make me whole
I’m on a path to keep my soul
trudging grandly, to pay the toll,
a future still in question.

Oh to sing, it would be grand
for them to hear and understand
to look and see and give a hand,
a future that I dream of.

But on I march and quite unsure,
On I march, for I am her,
Steadily working without lure
toward the future I have chosen.

This is my life, or so it seems
This is my life, not stuff of dreams
This is my life, and all it brings
I hope will be enough.

Shots of Nyquil help me sleep
Sleep I do, but not so deep
Tossing covers do not keep
Me warm, but I’m not cold.

Dreaming of the life I’d lead
If I wasn’t drawn by need
To pay for bill, loan, or deed,
Oh what a life in question.

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