Princess Kiera

The little girl looked out across the ground, imagining the long stretch to be filled with sand and the tiny broken down room in the distance was her version of a two thousand year old pyramid. She was my princess; Princess Kiera.
As I watched her little imaginary game unfold, I remembered playing a similar game myself at that age. All of us had chosen appropriate "Egyptian" names and Kiera was mine.
This is why I'd named this little part of myself after my imaginary but very real Egyptian Princess.
I could see a lot of myself in this little girl, while parts of her I never remember having. She's unique in her own way and seeing her build her massive imaginary world made my maternal instinct rise.
I want to protect that little girl from the ugly side of the world. She is at that age where the lies have begun but she doesn't see the difference. How I wish I could stop her from experiencing hurt and pain that only peers can bring; stop others from making her feel small and vulnerable. If my holding her close and telling her how much she mattered and how special she was could help, I would do it every moment I can find. But, she has to have her own experiences, and needs to learn her own lessons.
I wish I could teach her early on not to judge, especially not to worry about being judged in turn. If only I could explain how important it is that she never change herself to fit in or to impress someone else because those who liked her for who she was wouldn't care.
More than anything, I don't want her to be lied to, and her to put her trust in those that want to just pull her down and belittle her. I want her to know that she is talented and has a long way to go, and she should never give up, no matter whatever was said otherwise.
But she's young, and she'll walk her path. I'm sure I was told the same things by my mother who wanted nothing more than to protect me, but I was too young to understand.
And I know I am what I am because of all of my experiences, good and bad, put together.
I know for certain that Kiera will do the same; because she is me, frozen in a memory full of sand, pyramids, kings and princesses with the only the 'bad men on the horses' to hurt me.
Kiera has come a long way, and I have a long way to go.

Momentum

I stood at the bus stop, watching the fading light, and vaguely made out a bus that disturbed my gaze. Faintly brought back to reality, I found myself sitting by the window, not remembering how I'd gotten there. My thoughts were in a whirl and I did not have the strength to listen to myself; I watched the ever shifting canopy of trees from the window instead, feeling very childlike as the sun winked at me. It hadn't been an easy week...
 I don't know how, but it seemed like half an hour had gone by without touching me. I found myself walking a familiar yet strange path, detachedly observing my stiffened muscles working themselves. I let my feet decide and found myself in a park I'd been to a couple of times; only this time, it was dark and void of people except a few fleeting shadows in the trees. I was just glad that I couldn't see anyone on the path ahead and that I had no idea where it ended.
Last week, I'd driven by this park, getting fleeting glances of blurred colour that was children running about as I excitedly told him how the last few weeks at my new job had been. I hadn't realised that he'd been unnaturally quiet as I chattered on, until much later. A box of chocolates and "nice" note is all I have left of him now. Apparently, my job was my life and he felt too sidelined to even talk to me directly about it.
I sighed! I'd found my dream job just about three months ago; I'd always liked to cook and to get a job under the city's most famous chef... My job had been my life.
A sudden shiver brought me out of my reverie; rain had made its pattern on my clothes as I sat on the frail looking swing. I looked at the lamp a little away and watched as the spray of raindrops slowed down in the light. I was glad for the rain as I was ashamed to let go and cry, until now. At the back of my head I tried to cheer myself up by being uncomfortable for recreating a cliche. I was relieved nonetheless; to be finally able to let go of the embarrassment, anger and disbelief. I began to swing to and fro as I struggled with myself, trying not to relive the moments of a few hours ago.
I'd been fired, in front of the whole kitchen. The chef saved these only for the worst; in one night I seemed to have thrown away my career. Unfortunately, it was a calculated move on my part.
As my anger poured out, the thunder adding to my release, I rose higher and higher. I went over that evening in detail, and almost felt that angst again. It had been a blow right before I'd made my decision. The chef did not like his recipes changed, no matter what and I had gone out on a limb.
But as my shattered life hit me, I closed my eyes and saw it again, the chef's face right as he tasted MY soup. His eyes closed involuntarily and I could clearly see him take his time with it.
The swing's momentum carried me to the highest point, I could almost taste the heady scent of all the different flavours that had filled the kitchen. They brought all my senses rushing back and I laughed. Sure I had to start from scratch in almost all aspects of my life, but I'd made the city's best chef savour my soup and that is all that mattered right now.
The lightening lit the path as I jumped off the swing; my steps lighter and my clothes soaked, I walked home.

Inspired

 This poem is very special to me and has a bit of a back story.

             I drew this,

just to help me think really. My muse from the last poem got inspired and came up with this,

                                                                                                                                                        

and I felt like I really really needed to expand on it, maybe write a song...but this is what I finally came up with.

The queen of the seas she was not,

But the captain thought no less,

He lovingly watched her sails billow,

Reminiscent of a woman's tress.

And he treated her just so,

With tender loving care,
She was everything to him,

Anyways, he didn't know of any heir.

There she flew on, this pirate ship,

Challenging the darkening skies,
While just like a jealous woman,
Goddess moon gave her the evil eye.

This ship had challenged the fates too long,
Or so the Goddess thought,
Enticing the waves ever so slow,
Revenge was all she sought.

The wind grew to a fabulous howl,

The waves not long behind,

These forces grew steadily stronger,
They had a ship to ravage and grind.

And so the ship was fated to stay,

Never again to see land,
And there she stayed for eternity,
Just as she was drawn by the artist's hand.

The Muse

The artist scrunched his brow,
As he sat on his window sill.
The sky was lit, the moon hung low,
The artist worried still.

He thought of his last stroke,
Of the maiden in the sea blue.
His reverie then broke,
As his impatience grew.

He needed a new muse,
Of that he was sure.
A craving to watch colours infuse,
To answer the canvas' lure.

He stared out the window,
Fingers tapping a rhythm broken.
Across from him was a sudden glow,
And the softest word spoken.

Those beautiful eyes; he knew,
He'd just found his new muse.
He gathered his pencils few,
Nothing could stop him, no ruse.

Magic began at his hands,
Not pausing until the last line.
His search for a muse I understand,
Because he just was mine.

A Lifetime

I stood in front of the mirror, blinking at the sunlight in my face. I exhaled loudly as I straightened out the lapels of my coat; a coat that originally belonged to you, fitted for me just because I loved it so. I was nervous, very very nervous. I remembered feeling this way the day of my interview at your office. I never got the job but I did manage to upset you by toppling over files you'd spent hours putting together. I barely managed to apologise before I ran on for that interview I was late for. I remembered being this nervous right before our first date. The silly klutz that I am, I managed to drop ice-cream all over clothes; but, you only laughed at my silliness. I remembered being this nervous on the day of our wedding.

I smiled at that thought because you held me just as I was about to trip over my wedding dress and made sure no one noticed. I looked around at our bedroom; there's that stain of wine on the rug that we never managed to get out and the ugly desk that we both hate but never replaced. This room smells faintly like you, though the coat no longer does. I nervously play with my wedding band, a habit I've picked up over the years. My reluctance to leave the room is so heavy that my thoughts wandered and I found myself wondering if my hair looked fine as my fingers tucked a stray strand behind my ear; you never like it when my hair hides my face. I felt naive and silly; it was a formal occasion and I had quite a large crowd to address, I couldn't hide in our room all day. I fondly gazed at our picture from younger days before I left; you've always been my strength.  

Right now, the breeze pulls at my skirt and the carefully done hair-do is a slave to this breeze. I'm so used to telling you every small detail about my day. Today was beautiful, there was a huge turnout and everything I had prepared to say came out just right. Even the humorous bits, you know how I mess up the punch line at times. Today was your funeral...

Of Music and Birth

I was wrapped up in my little cocoon,
When I heard her soothing voice.
She sang of fireflies and the moon,
She calmed me with her words of choice.

I grew with the music she played,
I learnt of rhythms and melodies.
She smiled when in her arms I was laid,
She sang of flowers and bees.

She taught me about barks and moos,
She sang about the monkey and croc.
I now sing her to sleep with jazz and blues,
Cause she has always been my rock.

Sunlight :3

What? What are you looking at? I love my sunlight and I'm too warm to be bothered by you *stretches and blinks*. You're still here *narrows eyes* *yawns*. Well, it has been a while since I've had any new company. I am avoiding my housemates at the moment, mind you, so don't get any closer.

I see you're staring at my ear. I do get a lot of attention because of it; gives me quite a punk look, don't you think? *looks down at nails*. It happened some time ago when I was stuck working a back alley *sighs and closes eyes*. Difficult times; food was scant and hard to find. Oh look! Lizard!......Yeah, but I found this house and am I not cuddly now? *looks at self*. You could see my ribs before. *squints at house in the distance* my housemates are okay, I just don't want all the attention right now. Ooh! Butterfly! I want it...

Huh?! What was that? *backs away*. Do NOT touch me you weird creature! *jumps off wall* I'm very proud of my carefully groomed tail you see. Meow.