Saturday, April 21, 2012

Introduction, a Poem and a Short Story

Yep, me again, Volanta.  (Skip down to the poems if you don't want to read this, it's quite boring.)  I am a female, Asian, my name comes from the french word volant meaning capable of flight.  I believe in the power of naming things, once you name something, it is.  If you call someone nice, suddenly everyone starts to see their niceness.  Make sense?  You only notice something if pointed out, so I whole-heartedly believe I am metaphorically capable of flight.  Whether it's in what I do or who I am, that's just me.

Currently, I am in high school as a freshman, fourteen years old.  I have a hard time actually persevering and keeping up with the same things over and over before I get tired of them.  The one thing that hasn't been like that is writing.  Writing to me is a myriad of thoughts and gems, each one unique, whether its a book or a poem.  Writing them is making the tiny gem sparkle but who wants to hide a gem?  No one, we each want our gems to be praised and shined upon, no matter how many actual cracks there are in it.  For me, writing is also a way of expressing myself, whether it's secretly or publicly.

Here are this week's poems thanks to not-paying-attention-in math-and-science-class.

Is this really you?
or have you been replaced?
How can this monster
have your beautiful face?
If that's you,
I love and hate you
whoever you are.
The old you comforted me
and then you ate my heart.
How can I love you
when I only know your name?
There is nothing stopping me
from running from this place.
So why do I stay?

I strung along my feelings,
one by one by one.
I shook them up and wore them
out into the sun.

They glimmer and they gleamed.
They scowled and they hate.
I bare my feelings on my sleeve
and keep walking out the gates.

My emotions are invisible
to all including me.
The people's words, they poke and prod
and still they are not free.

I did not stop to rest.
I did not stop to chat.
The people here are all so still
but still I keep my hat.

Walk with me and try to see
beyond the straw and ribbon.
Be my friend and maybe you'll know
past what has been given.

The people here are all so still.
All so fake.
All so real.
The people here think they can feel
All they know.
They aren't healed.
The people here always kill
with their words
just until.
The people here think they're real.
Not at all.
Their fate is sealed.

She stood like that, a faint smile on her face like she already knew the outcome of her situation.  She leaned against the brick wall, tapping her toe to whatever beat her head phones were trickling into her ears.  Her taps were faint, but her eyes carried such strength they could blow you away had you been staring long enough to catch the black pupil in her chocolate eyes.  She had long thick hair, hair to hide behind, hair to sweep away, hair to be blown in the incoming wind.  It was a dark black, reflecting the sunlight as she twisted her head away to hear a noise that caught her attention.  She wore a scuffed old pair of yellow converse, like faded sunshine, a contrast to her dark blue jeans.  Her t-shirt was simply a cacophony of colors, twisted, marbled, faint and bold.  Like her, she would say if you asked.

She put her headphones around her neck and like clockwork to the tapping of her foot, another set walked in.  He was different, almost as if out of place.  His demeanor was nothing like her cool calm one, an ocean of peace but still ready to clash, his was more like a softly sighing willow tree, scared yet determined to survive.

"Hey Mox," he said with an edge of confidence, but his tentative position gave it away.  She gestured to the empty expanse of the wall next to her, covered in a slight layer of dirt, looked at it, and instead chose a nearby bench.  He followed her and they sat their awkwardly for a second, like an out of place couple who had just been kissing, only to have someone walk in.

"So how was your day, Shane?" she asked, trying to patch up the hole the silence had caused.

"The usual," he replied, his eyes darting to the side, as if nervous wanting to escape from this moment, or bored like he had something else to say or do.  Perhaps both.

"Look, why won't you just date me?"

"Because I don't want to," she replied, still at ease in her surroundings like she was off daydreaming.

"I would, I could give you everything," he begged.

"But I don't want everything," her eyes pleaded, pleaded for him to understand what he couldn't.  What he never could.  Silence.

"Why won't you love me?" he finally whispered out.

Her faint smile grew a little bigger.  "Because you'll never understand and that's exactly why I can't."

She walked away, her yellow shoes attracting more dust as Shane sat there pondering her words.  Her hair swished against her back as she calmly freed herself from his tumbled thoughts, like a mirage vanishing.

Then Shane knew she was right.  That day he finally walked away and slipped into the brick building where his love once stood against, leaning against the wall, tapping her foot to the music only she could hear.

So there you have it, I hope you guys enjoy!  If not, there's always next week right?


  1. Both these pieces evoke very relatable feelings of struggling to reach understanding. The poem reminds me of the negative aspects of knowledge; you are first stunned to learn what you didn't want to know, then you wish you could go back to not knowing because the truth is painful and knowing it also isolates you from all others who are still ignorant (whether they know it or not), but finally you accept that you have this new knowledge for better or worse and must decide how to go forward in the world with it. The story sort of expands on that theme by having the girl, who has already realized she and the boy have no future together because she is on a different level of understanding, find a way to communicate her feelings to the boy, who goes from confusion to denial to bargaining to acceptance. Good work.

  2. "How can this monster
    have your beautiful face?
    If that's you,
    I love and hate you
    whoever you are.
    The old you comforted me
    and then you ate my heart."

    That's my favorite part of everything you wrote here. I very much connect with this part. Good lines!

  3. I really liked Brynn's favorite part too, though I'm not sure what you mean by 'the old you comforted me.' Sounds like word salad.
    I enjoyed the fair portrayal of the boy in the story: over his head and subtly threatening, but not evil or perverted. The girl was interestingly mysterious as well. Good story.