New Poetry from Pasithea Chan : Forgotten & Remembered, Today & Tomorrow

Forgotten & Remembered

I used to brave the dark 
hanging on to a candle’s spark.
Armed with a jar left ajar -
I lit a candle and hid it
from the wind.
I embraced the shadow
hanging low like a tempo
flowing through 
the night’s sky
falling behind the trees
swaying in peace 
any way they please. 
 
I found comfort fading 
in the background
avoiding all that’s around.
I distanced myself 
unaware I lived on a shelf.
It was not until light bowed 
to the shadow
that I began to follow
how pain ingrained sorrow.
My mind was pulled down
by the weight of my eyes
waning survival’s strain.
 
Cowering in the dark 
to avoid what’s stark
I never got far.
I was a dying star
that fell before the sun
even went down.
I was a Martian 
shunned & forgotten.
At least that’s what I thought
being trapped 
in a past that never passed.
But then I was given a flame 
kindled by a voided anger
that hollered how lame 
it was to have disdain 
having seen 
that all I’ve sown 
were losses of my own.
 
I shimmered in the wind 
as my soul shivered 
from anguish’s fangs barred 
to feed on my barren heart.
Instead of feeding off the night
to feel alright, I was racing the light
to feed hurt before truth’s dawn. 
I realized I didn’t need a candle to see.
My candle had melted and burned
my broken soul when this jar broke.
Covered in soot and tar I covered
my scar deep in my heart.
I thought I could ward the hurt
with just my hand but
all I did was shiver in the wind.
 
I became the flame at the mercy
of a broken jar blown to pieces in the wind.
My light flickered as the wind snickered-
at my memories and thoughts; guilty
of wanting more in this life.
Bigger was surely better though not sugary
enough to erase trials’ bitter daze.
Last night, I got older, but not wiser.
All it took was a card I read to feel better.
The envelope made my heart elope
With happy thoughts that weren’t a trope.
Suddenly, I realized it wasn’t not so dark
afterall, because my heart knows- 
tomorrow will swoop down on me like a lark.
 
I still hold my candle and fold-
all I used to think I could handle-
forgetfulness’ comfort as a mess of my own.
It is easy to think you’ve been forgotten
until you’re shown how you’re remembered.
It hurts to realize acceptance needs eyes.
Eyes, that can dilate and constrict 
To the glare of a candle’s flare.
You can be sure, you must endure
If you want to see through the night’s velour. 
Kindness is a gesture with a curious texture
though not a fixture made to fit into a picture.
But I guess you get the picture:
being remembered beats being forgotten.


Today & Tomorrow

Time is my beauty blender as I continue to blunder.
Duty is it’s biggest contender & I it’s greatest offender.
I strive to conceal what I hope time does not reveal.
I mix and match hoping to patch gaps I catch.
But everything I set aside seems to miss tide.
So, I hide behind a divide of pride and chide.
 
Youth may have left me with creases 
Even the best concealer can’t conceal, a reminder that
Some things you can’t get back, a
Testament of life’s bustling track.
Everything I’ve done so far
Reaffirms my fears of reveling in a
Darkness that dances my nonchalant
Agony under indecision’s sun; until
Yesterday when I held tomorrow’s waist from today’s waste.
 
I tried to plan but all I did was prove I had no clue.
I danced my todo around what I must do-
trying to undo what’s gotten through.
Still, I didn’t make due; nothing new.
So, I rolled in care’s soot hoping to sooth-
myself but I woke up in a pyre of ire. 
My fears crackled like timbers trying to tackle-
fires from losses piled on my plate
ready to state: my conscience
is ready to chide my mind
with procrastination’s antics 
in concentric circles for delays
and lame excuses 
that shift duty’s centers
to realign my situational circles
into tangent circles
tangent at loss and regret.
 
Tightening my belt around burden’s pelt
Offered me the choice to feel heavy with regrets or
Divide my attention between wearing a guise that
Accosted my desire to live with apathy’s ice or 
Yield clarity to scorch lies’ timbers with courage.
 
Trust in destiny, I tried telling myself.
Of course, I knew I was off course
My heart stinks with ire charting tragedy
Offering to sting my mind with fire.
Realizing my heart was sinking
Really quick under my mind’s apathy, I 
Opted to let go of sorrow because
Wishing and willing are two different things. 

Bio: Pasithea is an impressionist poet who dabbles in art and poetry. She enjoys writing about life and her experiences from different perspectives. She believes in art in poetry as in exploring art to emphasize its role in juicing creativity out of a quill. She enjoys writing poetry in symbolism laced with philosophy and psychology.  Combined with varied styles and topics, her motto will always be: poetry is a passionate expression kindled by an impression unlimited by public conviction.   To catch more of her work follow her on Instagram @pasitheachan or twitter @pasitheachan and on Ello @ello.co/pasitheaanimalibera where you can find more of her historical fiction and mythological or cultural short stories.

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Pasithea Chan

Poetry Showcase from Pasithea Chan

#stopthehate challenge poem by Pasithea Chan : Able & Sable Hearts in Color & Deed


By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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