Poetry

by Sakura_9q

Summary:

Title is rlly lame bc honestly it’s what it is, this is where i dump my poetry when i write it occasionally.

So um.. enjoy the writing i pluck from my brain! :3

Chapter 1: Wonderland

Wonderland

Laid against the wall, cushioned by a soft pillow with pattern of soft flower; twas soft like one too
I rest my eyes, long eyelashes resting against my supple skin
I feel light as a feather, as if i’m gently drifting down into a soft mattress
I open my eyes to find myself entranced by soft colours, fields of flowers spread across the land before me

I take a step

The flowers cushion my foot like a soft cloud, gently supporting my every move
The wind is gently blowing amongst the leaves, the grass swaying like a slow dancer, yet the flowers remain still; like a kind reminder of support.
The breeze was not cold, nor hot; but rather it carried a gentle melody. As if a canary had sung a song of love, love for the world, for all of life.
And as i’m whisked away with wind and flower
I soon find myself in a meadow, filled with a calm dusk sunlight and everlasting fresh air
Soon i hear my name be called, i turn in all directions— expecting to see a person, or a cat, or a rabbit.
Instead there was a butterfly, it looked at me with its big black eyes.

“Why is thou here? Amongst this chaos?”

Its words carried the wisdom along the wind, as the wind blew by, it was unheard.

“Chaos?”

I inquired, in that moment i’d regained my senses; the world was not as beautiful as i’d first dreamt. The streams carried themselves full of sludge, the sky once full of dreams now carried nightmares.
I took a step back, looking back at the butterfly.

But it was gone.

When i’d blinked it was all gone, i was laid in my bed, the soft blankets protecting me.
It was gone

My wonderland.

 

⁃ AK

Chapter 2: Double edged sword

Summary:

A shorter poem from january 2025, one of my first ever works

Double edged sword

The ripples drop down unto the leaves
Flowing, wishing.

It dribbles down the pipes down onto the cold hard concrete, cold like a wasps heart.
And just like a wasp you sting me repeatedly to no end
Panging my heart with a pain as sharp as your hatred.
As if i’m obsolete i just let you
For i’d rather feel your relentless destruction than be alone again.

- AK

Chapter 3: Good friend.

Summary:

As of 6/6/25 this is my newest poem, also the one i am most proud of. This is also the one thats most close to my heart, as if i’m sharing a piece of me.

Thats why i like ao3, i get to share bits of my heart to those who wish to listen and don’t know me in real life :)

Good friend

I waved my hand toward you like any good friend, one who welcomes, one who says their farewell.

You placed your hand on my shoulder, leaned to talk to another. I’ll be your armrest, i’ll be your supporting character.

Because thats a good friend.

My mouth contorted in a smile as i giggled at your jokes, finding the simple peace in your friendship; even if just for a fleeting moment.
At our noon we sat in an all too familiar spot, i watched as you all sat in a circle, friendship glowed from your very being. And as i sat outside the circle, it was ever so clear; you were loved and cherished by many, you would not notice my disappearance.

Because thats a good friend. One who doesn’t burden you with the despair of a cockroach.

And like a bug i will be squished, and like a butterfly our friendship will fly away.

And as i kicked off the stool and flew away, i realized cockroaches have wings too; and i will fly away.

Because thats a good friend.

⁃ AK

Chapter 4: The lady

Summary:

A poem/short story about death, self loathing and self harm.

The lady

I saw a lady in my dreams, one with worry etched in her porcelain features. With gentle steps she approached, each footstep sparkled like a windchime, softly playing a song.
With gentle hands she graced me her love, brushing her cold hard hands against my cheeks, a warmer touch than he ever could give.

The angel glowed like a cloud at dawn, a cockroaches favourite time of day.

“My child, why must thous bleed?”

The cockroach recoiled, i looked down upon my body with familiarity. A brown hard arm grasped onto the angel’s shoulder, a smile crossing my face.

“Tis is my job, just as how you are performing yours.”

The lady was frozen like an icicle in a winter storm, before melting like springs thaw.
How smart was she? To have known the true answer all along.

It was time to go to heaven.

Chapter 5: Have you seen me?

Summary:

Disclaimer i am NOT indigenous, i was tasked with creating poems for my indigenous history class, and this is what i made.

No this poem is not in my perspective, i mainly write in first person due to it being simpler easier for me and my writing style.

I wanted to create a MMIWG poem that would call out human trafficking sites, human gore sites and white supremacy in a way that was merely implied, but still hit hard. And i hope i did well.

Have you seen me?

Have you seen me? I beg to say you have.
Maybe on a poster, perhaps on the news, or the picture frames my family holds out for you to see.

Have you seen me? On those websites you visit, desensitizing, humiliating, demon like.

Perhaps you’ve seen me in public, hand clutching my arm, looking in your stalls, in your stores; assuming i was just a dramatic girlfriend.

To you, are we just ants? Unidentifiable, the same, mindless beasts to be crushed under your boot?

The last thing an ant see’s can differ, the water filling the hive, like a body in the river. Maybe they see pure darkness, shadowed over by the foot crushing them. Or perhaps they see an ecstatic face, before being torn limb by limb.

What was the last thing i saw? What my sisters saw? I dare not remember.

But as i look around my world, the home i cherished; nothing has changed. The same tall grass sways in the wind, the elders still share stories, the people go about their life.

And as i look around, i see someone, a person, a girl. She held a paper in her hands; trembling, a newborn avian.
Her paper held only one sentence, in bold red letters similar to the blood of my sisters;

“Have you seen me?”

Chapter 6: Imposter

Summary:

Same disclaimer as chapter 5, i ain’t typing allat sorry its late im tired

This one i made to tackle the subject of residential schools and how oftenly when the kids would return home as full grown adults, they would feel detached from home, or rather.. an imposter.

Imposter

At home we used to speak our native tongue, we sung, danced, our families held so much; tales of old, ancient songs, medicines that our teachers healed with.

As children we didn’t understand what it meant, all we knew was that it was our tradition, our life. Then like a vulture, they stripped us from our homes, our families.
We were ugly ducks in the beautiful swans nest.
We could not speak our language, we could not wear our hair, and we could not believe in our own beautiful turtle island.

We were imposters, different species; looked down upon like vermin.

“Speak proper”
“Wear the right things”
“Praise our lord and saviour Jesus christ”

What did they all mean? At first we couldn’t understand. But soon we had no choice; we were nothing but mice in the claws of an eagle.
Where was our mother that the village elders spoke of? The one who created us all? Was there no one to protect us?
We grew taller, we developed, we grew.
But the part of us deep inside had not.

And when came time to leave and return home, i could not see a home, but rather unfamiliar ways. A distant memory so far away i felt i’d never reach it.

Now i was the imposter again, unable to look at the home i’d longed for without seeing that i did not belong. It struck me harder than my tormentors, i was nothing more than..

an imposter.

Chapter 7: The cat

Summary:

A poem about personal real life experiences

The cat

A cat as beautiful as thee, wandered the beautiful forest, wind blowed past her fur like song, a gentle melody
Then came a Rottweiler, as big and mean as thee;

“I will watch over you”

The cat followed in her pawsteps, gentle cruelty as soft as she. Paws growing weary, she froze like ice, hard and cold as thee.
Then came a golden retriever, as gold and warm as the sun.

“I will love you”

The cat followed her mates pawsteps with care, ignoring the way his paws bore the tears of her future. Her heart grew afraid and agonized because of he.
Then came a skunk as kind as a bee, who offered a gentle paw.

“I will be your friend”

The cat followed behind she from a distance as she padded among others, slowly forgetting of the cat. The cat’s heart ached with jealousy and loneliness, but she knew this was her place as a solitary companion.

Curled under the stump of a cold hard tree, leaves bare and bark grey like post-mortem, the cat closed her eyes, and met love for the first real time.

- AK

Chapter 8: Blue bird

Summary:

A short story about a blue bird who seems to just never be heard or acknowledged

Blue bird

Once there was a blue bird, feathered white and blue, a theatric fit so. Of tears and fear she chirped. Singly and softly, cozy in her nest.

Then a robin came along, he curled up beside her in the nest, her nest. His talons bearing the blood of a future betrayal, soaked in deceit.

In her despair she plummeted from the nest, crackling her wing like a stone to sticks. Chirping and chirping for the other birds to hear.

But was not heard.

Flapping, crying, she tried to fly home, but home was ceased, no longer with us.

Bathed in the shadows under the pine tree’s, the blue bird found the others, their nests high above. She chirped and cried for help, her wing broken like an unloved antique, unusable.

It was heard. But the other birds turned their heads away.

Desperate, the blue bird found her way atop the a high tree, its bark hard and cold, yet a softer touch than else. The blue bird flung herself off, snapping her other wing like a camels final straw. She looked up at the other birds, who looked down upon her.

It was heard and seen. But they simply held no care.

The blue bird realized that the other birds wouldn’t help her, and her wings were forever damaged. So with one last climb, one last glance, back on the pine tree, she flew one last time.

Chapter 9: Warm lights.

Summary:

…

Warm lights

Just like a gunshot it went quick, before i knew it i was in, and just like a movie it all slowed down.

All i saw was warm lights. The sun creeping in my morning bedroom, the bright Christmas lights of my childhood. Each giggle and squeak sounding more distant with each clench of my throat.

But all i saw was warm lights, it enveloped me. I saw crimson, the same shade that stained my hands as i clawed and clawed, the instinct of human nature, we claw for the things we desire on a subconscious level, like bees to honey.

I saw the warm lights of my childhood lava lamp, it’s yellow light illuminating my world, it’s hot surface kinder than fate.

My vision began to go dark, dark like the basements of my cousins, where we’d watch movies, play keyboard piano and run around like mice. But this mouse is caught in a trap.

The tightness around my throat reached the peak, my lungs emptying out like a tired kid after a long hike, running and playing like young moths.

I looked out one last time, the warm morning light seeping through my window, enveloping my room like a warm hug, my last hug. Like a moth i did not live long, but at least i could enjoy the fruits of my generosity.

One last glance, one last breath, i closed my eyes and saw those warm lights for one last time.

- AK

Chapter 10: August 1st.

August 1st

I’ve been known for my light, stepping into a room like a gaslit lamp and warming those around me with my hugs, my jokes, my presence.

And like a gaslit lamp i’m running low on fuel.

I lay in my bed, the thick blankets holding me like a grieving family member; the warmest hug I’ve felt since the cockroaches birth.

Slowly, i pulled myself out of the warm embrace of my bed, the sunlight creeping in through my window, illuminating my space of peace.

I went through my drawers, looking for something to cover the crimson handprints staining my most vulnerable pieces.

The sunlight reached its peak beauty at 4, the pink and gold light held me like a mother to her child. The night before i had prepared it, the thing that would bring me peace.

And as i stood on the stool, i carefully pulled my head through the ropes, i looked at the lights with love.

Warm and fuzzy, one last kiss, one last kick,
i got my final hug.

⁃ AK

Chapter 11: Cockroach

Summary:

A cockroach among owls

Cockroach

She never was very good, a figure in the light, emitting light, but everyone was blind. From the first moments she flew, her wings were disfigured. How could anyone see the beauty in those insectile wings? Compared to your beautiful feathers?

Thats what she was you see, a name, a title, a Background flaw. So she stopped flying, crawling along the ground like the filth she is.

They named her that. “Filth”. The very thing she loathed.

All her feathered acquaintances sat in a circle, for once she was inside with them, stared at like meat to a vulture, an egg to a fox, only for them it wasn’t hunger. No, Her creepy hard skin was harsh and brash against their soft beautiful feathers. It was disgust they stared with.

It knew its place. Not a background flaw, not even. Simply an existing error in the system. It wished for feathers, for talons, for beautiful eyes. And it could not suffice, no amount of glue or tape would conceive that reality.

Because thats what it truly is. Filth was her name, but cockroach was who she was.

⁃ AK

Chapter 12: Wings

Once set in her sorry city, there was no room for semblance, she was glued, trapped, home.

Gloomy like the northern fall, there was no light; a small indicator.

Silver foxes don’t have wings, usually, But you do. And what a beautiful silver fox you were, in this city of gloom and agony.

You used to fly, soar these skies with a hope no adult ever could imagine.

But soon the mere thought would be thousands of miles away.

Oh poor silver fox; all you wanted was a comfortable existence; yet from such a young age all the world was on your shoulders.

Cleaning the den, hunting for food, learning the ways of the world, all on your paws.

Where were your parents? The kin meant to teach? Gone and left, and reduced to a den-ridden mess.

Nevertheless you still flew, low to the ground but just enough to escape the open jaws of dogs.

Then you met a golden retriever, who promised to help.

Oh darling, why are there bite markings along your fur? Along your throat, chest, and femininity?

To which then your wings shut for good, no longer a flier, a dream of distant past.

Now where hath you? Still hunting, still cleaning, still trying; but not dreaming.

There is no hope now, silver fox. There is no more to hunt, the mess to clean to large.

Now you fight for scraps, but you barely feel the hunger anymore.

Not since your wings shut, your feathers shed, and you gnawed at them raw.

I am sorry silver fox, they have failed you. Lest me hope the hunger goes soon.

When your wings grow back.

⁃ AK

Chapter 13: The wistful Alicorn

Summary:

An older poem

The Wistful alicorn

There was a alicorn, once.
A gentle memory among the harsh winter, a warm presence among the ponies made of ice.

The alicorn tried hard to be noticed, to be cared for like a growing fruit bush. But like a piece of beach wood she was unseen and uncared.

Her days felt numbered, and her chest burnt like bonfire ember. An empty hollow feeling that most ponies described, seemed so far away, for her chest felt so full it would burst.

For months she laid careful clues, making jokes about it, writing about it, showing things similar to. But whom was there to listen? Everyone’s ears were taped shut.

The alicorn grew tireless as her oh so obvious hints weren’t noticed, a great effort; all for nothing. A fly caught in a web inside a shadow.

Her mother apologized, but it was clear she didn’t mean it of purity, but rather obligation.
Instead of the comfort and sympathy the alicorn needed, she was given more reason to hate herself. Wordless and hopeless.

She lay curled in a nest of her own fur and feathers, somewhere in the dark matter of her den. The alicorn could see no reason to live, to thrive, to even survive.

But she knew she was helpless, if she left this world she would destroy her family.

So she lives, slowly destroying her soul in the process.

⁃ AK

Chapter 14: Love

Summary:

A poem about love, abandonment, positive childhood memories and the bittersweet nostalgia that comes with growing up.

Notes:

I haven't been writing much recently, so I do apologize. I will try to get chapters for other works out sooner. <3

Did you ever feel the love in my heart? Even as I stared down at the weary sunset, I knew in my heart it was for you.

I stand by that old vacant house, a shell of what once was. The snow has casted its blanket over its bare clapboard skin, and the sun has shun pink over my horizon.

Here is where we used to play, to laugh, to sing; here where the chain link fencing has grown old and weak and the trees have long since died.

The pawprints in the snow have stopped following me, replaced with untouched fresh snow, were they yours? Where've you gone?

Here is where we stared at stars, surrounded by pine and snow all around, I remember you told me a memory, and yet it seems far gone, together we cracked cookies and cheered, we have a long drive home.

Here where i stand is the home I've called my own, standing tall among its brothers and sisters. Over time the walls have worn, webs grew, and what come of us? More distant than nebula.

We used to call this home. Somewhere in our path, something changed. Webs grew longer and more tangled, the snow melted away, and our fear grew. Perhaps it was the men, the ones who sought our light; our light and more.

Now time has passed more than I hoped, and what has become of us is nothing more than the stars in our blood. I try to explain the feelings bubbling in my starlight lungs, and yet all I can do is cradle you, hoping you aren't burnt. It is seldom that you show your affections.

So here I'll lie, curled under mountains of plush and fabric, in hopes I'll feel you again.

- AG