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 Posted: Thu May 07, 2009 4:33 pm
Hello everyone!
If you don't know me I'm a poet, a writer, and most adamantly, an artist. This means I dabble in all sorts of media but mainly acrylic. Charcoal is my favorite but acrylic is currently the one I'm taking classes for. I'll show off my work here but if you want to see a complete collection all on one page, go here: http://s4.photobucket.com/albums/y147/Youkai5767/Studio Art/
This is my AP Studio Art Bin on Photobucket. This means it's all my work from '09, which includes 25 pieces, 24 that were submitted.
Explanation:
A concentration is a gathering of work submitted as one collection all relating in theme. My concentration in '09 was New vs Old so you'll see that in the description if it's a concentration
A breath is a piece that was done to relieve the artist from the concentration and show variety and technical skill. Most of my breath are at the bottom of the album and don't say anything about New vs Old.
There were to be 12 concentration and 12 breath.
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Posted: Thu May 07, 2009 4:40 pm
Poem I This is a poem I did when I didn't want to write a fanfiction, but I was curious what would happen if Kurama met Shiori or Atsuko when he was a youko. It changed into any human female as he seduced her and then became indebted to the woman. The end of this poem was influenced by the myth that foxes must always completely repay a person for anything they do. They cannot take favors without giving one of equal value.Silver Spirit Fox
I bid you fair warning young maiden,
My glass is as deep as my charm.
I'll drink to the dawns,
To the skies and the swans,
And not falter in wit or arm.
Come hither I call you fair maiden,
Should your mind be a cloudy sweet bee.
I'll dance with you gone,
Together, anon,
And be gone before you will see.
Step lively around me sweet maiden,
I know not what this drink may do.
I've been known to bite,
At height of dark night,
And glisten at the morning dove's coo.
Together now we stand drunk maiden,
I'll support you until our soft end.
Something's awake,
With lots at stake,
And now it is you I defend.
Rest well tonight my hurt maiden,
We made it through this fight
Though fierce it had been,
You know not my kin,
And I shan't let you out of my sight.
Arise to the morning my maiden,
This journey is just the beginning.
Our road is a long one,
With little that's done,
And a path that we're creating.
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Posted: Fri May 08, 2009 7:28 pm
Poem II
The Laptop
She sits alone in school,
She types alone at home,
She learns alone in class,
She reads alone at lunch,
Yet she is asked a question,
One of personal content,
"Are you lonely?"
Asks the paper,
For that is what she sees,
"Can I be lonely?"
She asks the typists,
For she will always have her keys.
-2005
This is a poem I did when I wanted to make a poem that meant something. I wanted to make a statement with it instead of just doing art. My desire to have something meaningful and powerful came from parents never listening to children about how beneficial the internet can be. At the time I was somewhat alone in my life and I didn't have a social life outside of school. I wanted to show how it's not necessary to have a social life out of school due to things like the internet. I think this poem describes my personality, but not due to the words exactly, but how it's being said. This is always one of the first poems that I post because it's one of my favorite.
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Posted: Sat May 09, 2009 6:33 am
Poem III
Love's Stage
Stepping up to the stage,
Stand tall, proud, and nervous.
Do a bow and walk together
Accepting the hand that guides.
Stepping up to the stage,
It's important not to trip
And place a kiss upon the lips.
Sweet words of nothing relevant.
Stepping up to the stage,
Meaning is brought through.
Things speak between the two.
They know just what to say and do.
Stepping up to the stage,
Soft touches grace the skin
As affection and trust is built within.
Each knows the other well.
Stepping up to the stage,
Whispers of words are set to page.
Memories are made with sweet nothings,
Sweet nothings full of meaning and truth.
Stepping up to the stage,
Two, scared to fight the faith.
Neither quite knows now what's to come
for the journey's just begun.
It's off the stage now you see,
Behind the scenes of you and me.
Love's like a circus running free.
It's what we make it to be.
-2009
This year I acquired a boyfriend whom I love dearly. He can make me happy without even trying or being near me. Because of him I wrote this poem to think about how different love can be for everyone. I wrote it so that it's somewhat blank with imagery because everyone's love is different.
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Posted: Sun May 10, 2009 7:05 pm
Poem IV
Civil War
Blood is the ground,
And all air is poison,
Wars are around,
And no one to fight them,
Brother to father,
Neighbor to neighbor,
Are we not human,
Without our savior?
Let them be noble!
Let them be mine!
Let us stop fighting,
It's wasting our time!
Time to look in,
Time to look out,
Give us our savior,
From war on our neighbor.
This poem is one that I did about how wrong it is to fight wars and that everyone wants a savior, but they don't want it to be a savior from someone else's culture. They want their savior to be from their culture and from their beliefs. Each religion has their own reason for being around and their own form of salvation. If every religion has a savior, then each of them will conflict. If we just looked around, or looked out, at all the carnage and individual loss from every side in an unbiased opinion we would finally be able to see the horror of war and maybe, stop war faster.
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Posted: Mon May 11, 2009 5:52 pm
Poem V
Those Left Behind
In memory, we say,
You were the best.
Hold your head up high and move on.
The world around you moves without you.
The stars still glimmer with hope.
They shimmer like polished silver.
Our eyes water and our throats clutch.
In memory, we say,
Rest well at last.
Thoughts of pastel colors and quiet meadows.
We condemn them to the quiet life of happiness.
We say it rains for them.
The world misses them.
We cannot get them off our minds.
In memory, we say,
Goodbye my friend.
My best regards with soft kind wishes.
It all comes down to innocent tears.
Comfort is useless.
We will miss them.
We don't accept right away that they are gone.
Our minds conflict with what happens to them
We have to know that they aren't just gone.
We search for answers to eternal questions.
We loose our life,
Our love,
And our anger,
All with the loss of them.
In memory, we say,
I love you still.
And I will keep you close in spirit.
I hope you are better there.
You were the best.
I miss you.
I will see you some day.
I know you're happy now.
Goodbye.
Silent confessions to a corps.
Whispers to the wind.
Our comfort comes.
We move on,
With them.
This is a poem I did after my first dog died. I loved him dearly. He was about 13 years old when he died and I grew up with him. He was my friend and ally ever sense the beginning. No one will ever replace him in my heart but I'll always move on. He was my dog.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2009 12:08 pm
I like your poems AlEy, they are realy good. My fave is Civil War, but Those Left Behind touched a nerve almost making me cry. (see out chat thread in Random Chat)
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Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2009 11:07 am
Poem VI
This poem is one I wrote when I wanted to contemplate our existance on this world from my point of view. It is from the point of view that we will be reincarnated but I obviously did not write that into the poem that well. This was done by me sometime after my grandpa died and I believe it was before my dog's death. It made me feel better to write it out.
Circles
Life is a circle
Starting out it is dark, black, and wet.
No one is by your side but gentle prods and careful wishes.
People dote on you after you are dragged into the cold harsh world.
And to be perfectly honest,
You don't understand the world around you.
Then you start to grow.
You still don't understand things,
But slowly they are revealed.
You are taught and colors surround you.
You stand on your own and it's no longer dark or cold.
The only time it's dark is when it's night out.
And the world isn't half bad.
As you grow older you learn to support yourself.
You reach the independence of your circle.
You find the point at which it overlaps with others,
And a cycle forms in your life.
Wake up, go to school, eat, play, study, sleep.
Wake up, go to school, make food, eat, study, sleep.
Wake up, go to work, make food, eat, play, sleep.
Wake up, go to work, make food, eat, sleep.
And then a new circle begins.
And an old circle ends.
Constantly leaving and beginning they end and start the same.
It's cold and dark when the circles start or end.
One won't be sure which is which when they happen.
It is but a phenomena that we all dread.
Wake up, mourn them, make food, eat, sleep.
Wake up, take care of them, make food, eat sleep.
Our circle has continued and we wonder why.
We wonder how it could when the circle that so closely made our own is gone.
It feels like our lines have been thinned for the first time.
But they never end. They keep going, for now.
Our children grow.
They don't know why you're sad.
They are new to this world but they realize something is up.
Their circle fills the gaps and we move on.
We have to for our children.
We have to for our friends and our lives.
We have to do our job and make sure we continue.
And so we button up our shirts, and pull up our pants.
We lace up our shoes and pull on our coats or jackets.
The dark night has come and gone and our circle continues.
Slowly, without our realizing it, our circle dwindles.
It becomes smaller and touches less people.
We become more singular and self absorbed.
Without realizing it, we change and become less aware.
We start to loose the things that connected us.
Our circle thins like their's did.
Our awareness passes on to our children and our bodies slow.
We loose the ability to move in circles.
We fight it tooth and nail, but the wear and tare is too much.
We slow down and begin to move slower.
Our circles move slower.
They loose things.
Wake up, play, eat, sleep.
Wake up, eat, sleep.
Wake up, sleep.
Sleep.
Our circle ends in darkness, cold and wet.
We find not our next step although we have taken it a thousand times.
We loose the last of our abilities and our circle stops.
Another begins.
Our circle, our path, has extinguished itself.
But every good circle, is always perfectly round.
And a circle's line never ends,
Because the beginning is always just where you place your pencil first.
Every point on a circle is just that, a point, and it will continue,
With or without us.
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Posted: Tue Jun 23, 2009 6:53 pm
Poem VII
Shut
Force it down
Push it away
Hide it from the world
Thick black layers drape over the rickety wall
The wet layers adhere to the surface
as though they could never smooth.
Nothing is smooth
Nothing is gentle.
For it down
Push it away,
Tight tugs press inward, always inward.
There's nothing but force and pressure.
Struggling to stand is useless,
it's all useless but necessary to try.
It's a requirement
It's a job.
Force it down,
Push it away,
Swells of yellow pressure build as red heat pushes.
Support keeps the smooth flow of cool breath seeping in.
Angry white numbness washes over what cannot bend.
There is nothing.
There is stillness.
Tussling with the pressure nothing gives.
The muscles relax and stillness takes the mind.
There's nothing to do, nothing to move, nothing to free.
Calmness is the only thing that can replace the pain.
They sooth themselves with giving in.
The small trickle is just enough to send the mind into a spell.
Soft wistfulness that throbs in the skull to leave.
Stay there.
Just stay there.
Don't move or toss about.
Stay there.
You're forced there.
Don't struggle to get out.
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Posted: Wed Jun 24, 2009 12:15 pm
Poem VIII
Innocent Love
Tell me what this means now,
Hold my hand and guide me through
Because I've not been understanding,
where it is we're going to.
Help me with this feeling,
the one I don't understand.
Tell me what it's meaning,
No matter how bland.
It flutters in my chest,
Without a care of where I am,
And pulls at all my heart strings,
Toying with all it can.
I feel like it's controlling me
Making me stutter and trip
I can't take much more of this,
Or else I might actually flip
My mind is wrapped around you,
No matter where I go,
And I can't get it to unwind you,
Even if I hold you so.
Take my hand and guide me through
Just what I am to do
Because I'm lost and dreaming of you
With every moment, through and through.
This poem I wrote because of an RP style fanfiction I'm writing with my friend. It's similar to the first poem I wrote in the sense that I did it about a Yu Yu Hakusho character although in this one the Ac is also around and it's not a complete story in itself.
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Posted: Thu Jun 25, 2009 11:22 am
Poem IX
This is a poem that I remember I wrote but I don't remember exactly what was going on to make me write it. Anyway, it's short so I won't have to make it small.
Never Ending
There are some things that we must know
Without knowing how we can understand.
There are some things that swell in our chest
And break through our bones
There are things that trace our spine
And attack our minds with the inability to function.
I think my silent thoughts and shrill wind screams up my back.
It dives through my arms and nests itself in my chest.
I can't uproot it and the more it explores my body,
Like ants cleaning up a kitchen,
Or spiders taking care of the flies,
The less I want it gone.
It attacks me at the least expected times.
It makes my voice raise to the sky
And my feet pad on the ground.
I don't think of what I do
Or how I do what I want but I know
It's not going anywhere.
These tears are formed from the pure strength
Of all the feelings that overwhelm the soul.
There's nothing for them that I can do.
There's no solving their woe.
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2009 3:40 pm
Poem X
Quiet Before a Storm
Everyone loves the quiet before the storm.
It's still and peaceful with little to do.
The dimming clouds meander around
Wandering from the town.
They threaten on occasion
To sprinkle and the heat eases the land
Into a heavy sigh of heaving earth.
Birds chase down the early worms
The thick sweet air smells like
Turned earth with a cool breeze
That raises locks of hair from the sticky sweat.
Everyone loves the quiet before the storm.
People sit out on their porches
Waving at those wandering by.
No one is in much of a hurry to go anywhere,
If they are,
No one knows.
The stores still waiting
For the drops to fall in anticipation
Knowing the cool relief from this cozy warmth
Will make the children want to go out and play.
The windows and doors swing open
To watch the foreboding loose clouds.
Everyone knows they will give.
Everyone loves the quiet before the storm.
For some, it's the only time to relax and really listen
to the silence that fills nature.
Nothing really moves that well
Until it all comes tumbling out.
It falls freely like a river of bees swarming from a hive.
From a distance the process looks slow
With just bits and pieces showing up
But in the end,
The mass is more then one could handle
Alone.
Everyone knows what will come
After the quiet before the storm.
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2009 8:29 pm
Poem XI
Glasses to Glasses
Sometimes in the darkness
A light will shine it's brightest.
There are stars that cannot see themselves
And there are glasses
That have no limit on their wall.
We choose where to make the rim
And drink from what glass we make.
At times those filling our glass
Don't fit our choice,
We can bathe
In the overflowing pool of water.
It splashes the floor like rain
Children dancing in the puddles
Splashing one another
As you sip from your cup.
The star will only shine
As bright as it can be.
There's no limit to how much it can see,
For it cannot see its own essence and shine.
The star that doesn't shine as bright
Is merely one with less aspiration to be
As it's neighbor,
A star that cannot see.
It looks behind itself
Instead of down with a smiling face
It gazes at the others
With longing
And waits for the day
That it will be as such.
Slowly it is turned and such a star exists,
For now that star is one that cannot see.
This is but a gift
Though the time is not designated
This is but a chore
Though the repetitions may not get old
This is what we make it,
And no one else.
We chose to see the light for the stars
Or the field for the grass.
The glass we make
Pours steadily into a fountain
The glasses tip and one will fill the other
Back and forth the water neatly churns.
There's no loss or gain
But each time the water churns
More spills from the cup than before.
It overflows and washes past warm hands
The cool silk trickles over the back
And runs down the arm
Dripping off the elbow
It is only what we make it,
be it wet and sloppy
Or a cool refresh from a day in the sun.
This will only be what we make it.
There's never any more
Than we choose to hold,
There can only be less.
When there is less,
When the glasses click together
And one waits patiently,
Another cannot accept the future water.
It's time to fill the glass at a different well
It is time to dig a new
And search for the proper well.
There is an underground stream
For every cup,
and for every cup
There is a shovel
The rule of this game is simple,
Do not dig in your stream. I wrote this poem because my boyfriend was confused about love and I felt obligated to explain to him how I viewed it verses how other people viewed it. Love is something that each person can have to a certain amount. There's an end to how much a person can hold and how much a person can give. In a relationship you may feel like someone's strangling you, well that's just because they love you too much. You also may feel like they're not giving you enough love so they literally just don't have that much love to give. Finding a happy medium is the key to a good relationship.
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2009 9:40 am
Poem XII
Dead
Wake with a shiver from the cold chill that caresses the skin,
Velvet skin, so soft yet firm.
The icy chill numbing to touch with such a soft stroke,
A gentle call for heat from the victim.
Filled to the brim with emptiness.
A silent call from the captured space.
The gentle cold running down a wet cheek.
Warmth running down a tangling path across the dry protection,
Maroon syrup tickling the senses of a doll,
Joy and sorrow both dancing hand in hand down the fragile form and away,
Null, all is null, nothing there, nothing to fill the space.
Emptiness of such a place that never was to be forgotten,
Limp limbs as smooth as the still water surface.
As if fresh from a massage, the limbs did lay still.
Limbs in the grasp of Death.
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Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2009 6:08 pm
Poem XIII
Running
She ran and ran,
For miles and miles.
She ran and ran,
Without any smiles.
Forced to run,
With what she begun.
Forced to run
Away from the sun.
Her feet were pounding,
Her life was dry.
Her feet were pounding,
She was living a lie.
She ran and ran,
From all that was true.
She ran and ran,
And slipped right past you.
There's nothing there,
She cried again.
There's nothing there,
She found no man.
"There in the forest,"
Said a voice so meek.
"There in the forest,
Just over the peak."
She ran to the forest,
With the sun at her back.
She ran to the forest,
And then,
Smack.
Down she fell,
Tumbling, tumbling.
"Down she fell,"
The sun was now mumbling.
She ran no more,
The man smiled down.
She ran no more,
The man kissed her brow.
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