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Update

Published June 8, 2017 by atirahjewel

  I haven’t posted on here for long over a year, but I haven’t been absent. I feel like my days on this site are passed and I have decided to make it inactive. I will be leaving the page up of course, I have too much work on here to delete the entire site and I’m too lazy to transfer it, but I will no longer be posting any new poetry to this site. I started this blog in 2010 with some poems that I wrote when I was fairly young and as went on and my style changed and evolved my posts had become increasingly sporadic, I felt as if my work didn’t fit in on this blog anymore. I am no longer “Lil’ Red Writing Hood”. I had been considering closing it at the end of 2014 but didn’t. Instead I created a new domain, but I never used it because I wasn’t sure how to go about transitioning over to it, I’m still not sure truth be told. But as I said, though I haven’t posted anything I haven’t been absent from WordPress. I have set up a new domain that will serve as my main site from now on while this will serve as a secondary site and archive. Thank you to everyone who followed me and took the time to read my work and encourage my writing journey over the past 7 years. I hope you will continue to support me and be apart of my journey.

Thank you,

Atirah Jewel

  You can follow my new blog here: Speaks of Senseless Things

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Changes

Published October 21, 2014 by atirahjewel

We’ve come to a turning point,

A place where we are made to move on

From where we are now.

A wonderful new opportunity,

To grow, to evolve,

From whatever it is we now are.

And yet,

I wish we didn’t have to leave this place.

I wish we could stay here and live,

Like we have lived for so long.

That whatever change is approaching,

Is but a dream I am dreaming.

Because here, time exists at a standstill;

Not ever really moving or changing.

Here is a place draped in feelings,

And with memories existing in

Every scent, every corner, every glance.

Because of these that have always been,

I am able to recreate my

Most recent years and thoughts.

To make myself feel the same as I once did,

As I sat in the same place I do now,

Giving the unhealthy illusion no time has really passed at all.

I am trapped inside an asylum of mind,

And no matter how much I focus on making new,

Old memories lurk against every wall,

And are attempting to be relived,

Because here, nothing is ever different,

Here, nothing is moved.

Here, I am able to remain that little girl I once was,

In love with the idea that nothing ever has to change.

And that is exactly why,

In these moments passing,

And in the future to come,

Nothing can be allowed to remain the same.

 

Copyright © 2014
by Atirah Jewel

Perhaps A Fantasy

Published June 10, 2014 by atirahjewel

This feels too controlled.
Completely in control,
While indefinitely knowing I am not.
But the feeling
Of this pen on this parchment,
Of the thoughts formed,
Of the music that plays,
All known to myself.
Words I will remember in the morning
As having written down
Before my thoughts
Strayed to more desperate things.

How can Time and Space
Be split,
Manipulated, so to speak,
So I may enjoy it as it had
Led me to believe I would?
Underneath that rotten façade of beauty
Comes the real face of being.
A man-made existence of time
Distributes itself under the spell of the Gods.
How can I feel the weight of control
In my hands
When it is a falsified existence
To dignify and comfort man?

To what degree must I suffer
Before recognising and realising,
The hideous truth
Of my own potential
To posses and bend time and space
And matter that makes up the Universe,
Multi-verse even, perhaps.
Soon my script will be unreadable
To even me,
It’s maker and creator.
For the hand betrays the mind,
And in turn, the pen betrays the hand.
In truth, meaning,
The hand, in all senses,
Betrays its own primal desire,
To disobey.

One moment,
Time is here,
Offering the same offer
It had offered once before.
In the remembrance, I plead.
Sentenced to the last of my sane days,
On my knees
Pleading with the man perceived time
To grant me any favour of power
To manipulate it so as to
Create for me,
A doorway
To travel desperately through
And live in a place completely
Before my time.
Where I had been born,
And killed,
And born from again
In the wrong sentence.

Now, after a quick glance at
Surroundings of unknown origins,
I forget
Every desire but one;
The one of Love.
A Love more pure
Then I’d ever dreamed before.
The only dream tears have been shed for,
And I have begged to live.
A version of me,
Before this version of me,
Living engulfed in music
And responsibility.
Drowning in instruments,
Blissfully dying under the sounds
Of voices, carrying me through the air
As if I was floating.

A hug, a kiss,
A bond of love shared
Between my soul and my soul.
Build a dream of Life in a manner
That I’ve never dreamed,
But instead envisioned.
Cut me in half,
Cut me into small pieces,
And I still won’t weep as much,
My heart still won’t bleed as much
As did when I was startled
By the cruel realisation
That my dream was nothing
Of a dream to be,
But instead, perhaps a fantasy.
One of ideal places and people,
Skills and thoughts and friendships and doubts
Ever doomed under the cloud
Of failure.

Death would be a mercy,
Welcomed and invited in,
As compared to the thought
Of living my life in a time
After my time.
A place I shouldn’t live in
In the manner I live in it;
Instead of in the way I am truly meant
To live and fatedly meant to die.
Pushed underwater and held by
Dreams of the beyond-world dimension
That await me so I can be
Further blessed with the Love I
Once soberly dreamt of,
And now highly plead for.
Into the Darkness, I’ll close my eyes,
And open my mind and heart to
The unforeseen, impossible possibilities of
This world and the next.

Copyright © 2014 by
Atirah Jewel

Please Don’t Cry

Published February 26, 2014 by atirahjewel

You may note the copyright notice on this poem reads ‘2013’ instead of ’14. That’s because I actually wrote this in the Summer of 2013, and it’s been sitting in my drafts ever since. I wasn’t satisfied with it and, to be frank, am still not. I thought and think it was/is typical and bland, no flavour of it’s own whatsoever. But, as is rather apparent on my blog, not every poem can be a hit and poets must suffer a few (or several) misses here and there. It only crowds my drafts so I hope you enjoy. Or don’t, either way, it’s here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are my sun,

You are my sky,

Your glittering beauty should only be found in flowers,

I wish I had the wings to fly you away.

I see you in my dreams,

And such a beautiful dream you are,

One that brings tears to my eyes,

But you,

Please don’t cry.

I was trapped in my dream until I finally awoke to you,

Let me dry your tears,

Let me fly you away,

Hopefully one day we will be together,

One day I will get those wings,

One day we can once more die.

Copyright © 2013 by
Atirah Jewel

This is my seventh attempt…

Published February 20, 2014 by atirahjewel

This is my seventh attempt,
Of writing what has been written,
Seven-thousand times before,
Stealing the world’s ideas,
And corrupting her words,
Altering phrases, slightly turning meaning,
Until it seems to be my own,
This is my seventh attempt.

This is my eighth attempt,
Of writing the same words,
I’ve written eight-thousand times before,
Re-using the same theme,
Again and again, and yet once again,
Giving my works a sound that is repetitive and boring,
Pushing away hopes of growth.
This is my eighth attempt.

This is my ninth attempt,
Of becoming a murderer,
Attempted nine-thousand times before,
Oh but why can’t I just die,
And fade away with all my dreams,
Reiterative and plagiaristic,
And forget everything, but how to sleep?
This is my ninth attempt.


Copyright © 2014 by
Atirah Jewel

Quickly, Swiftly…

Published December 20, 2013 by atirahjewel

Quickly, swiftly,
The body decomposes before it’s in the ground,
The wounds that once dripped blood now seep with pus.

Deeper, lower,
The ground falls as the grave is dug,
The grass that once flourished green is now but a mound of dirt.

Heaviest, darkest,
The night sky becomes as the corpse is tossed in the ditch,
The heart that once beat proud and strong is now just a stone.

Moved, determined,
The hand the works to refill the ground becomes,
The shovel that once lay dormant is thrown back into use.

Quietly, softly,
I creep from the seed I planted,
The ground that once lay undisturbed shall now bloom with lilies.

Copyright © 2013 by
Atirah Jewel

Hello Again, WordPress World.

Published August 17, 2013 by atirahjewel

Dear Readers,

Some of you might have noticed, most of I’m guessing didn’t really care but I have obviously not been very active on here as of late. My last post was months ago and this has been my first time signing in since. But really, it was Summer, so that means I’m excused right?

Anyways. Autumn is fast upon us which means I will be using my mobile phone a lot less and the desktop computer a lot more (or using my phone the same amount but just use the desktop more 🙂 ). In short, I will start being more active once again. Maybe not this month but soon I will be posting a lot more works and much more frequently than this past year. This poetry blog has been a place for me to share and vent for these past couple of years, not using it so much this past year of 2013 has taken it’s toll on me and has made me realise even more that this is definitely not just a blog.

So hope you all had a brilliant Summer and pleasure to be back!

 

 

 Sincerely,

Atirah Jewel