To my dearest, Leland Ko

Four of your one line poems used to inspire four of my own.

Because what's a promise to reality?

But,
you promised?

"I just can't do this anymore..." you said.

Because you were done making stupid promises
and you were running out of lies.

I know your heart broke that night,
just like mine.
The difference was
when I whispered "I love you"
it was a promise.

But,
what's a promise to reality?

Because reality is:
you never really meant it.

Blue eyes have always been my thing, but you make brown eyes beautiful.

This one's for you.

That smile,
darling,
You were never boring.

Always talking,
so much to say,
so much to tell.
so much to get to know.
I'm drowning in you
and I love it so much.

You are so good,
too good.

Brown hair,
freckles,
so much going on in that head of yours.
I see you.
I see the boy behind those eyes.
and I love him.

because blue eyes have always been my thing,
but you make brown eyes so beautiful.

If I had said 'I love you' one last time, would you have stayed?

Though your mouth never said how much you loved me,

your lips moved slowly,

showing how much they cared for the taste of mine.

But they never did care for my eyes

or the way that I walked.

They never would look at me and think,

"What is going on in her pretty little head?"

They never cared for my favorite movies or for brunettes or for young crazy teenage kind of love.

They never even cared for my smile.

But if I had said 'I love you' one last time, would you have stayed?

or am I really as naive as I thought I was?

You finally came back only to leave me behind, so I hung out with your brother because he reminded me of you.

and I am a little bit lonely.

Because I gave you my everything

and all you left was a faint shadow for me to follow

aimlessly.

Like I'm looking for something,

Only now do I realize that it's definitely not you.

At least,

not anymore.

Because you finally came back

just to leave me behind.

So I hung out with your brother

because

he reminded me of you.

#stolen
To: Leland Ko
From: Kes
I can only hope that I interpreted these lines in a way that makes you proud.
Merry Christmas, friend :)

Discovery

(and that's good news for astrobiologists.)

Any last words? - Anything else?

Last words? 

I guess this is it. 

The "real" me?

I pray every morning to make someone's day

even if i'll never know it.

I still blow on dandelions

and wish for summer rain.

I couldn't live without my cartoons.

Four married siblings,

six nephews,

three nieces.

I love them all.

I'm gonna get ridiculed for this one,

but I'm a morning person,

Surprise!

I write in Evernote

because it's that much farther away from the publish button.

I am an ice cream enthusiast 

and too lazy to be healthy.

(but someday I'll probably regret it)

I work at a grocery store

with Bueford the cow.

I don't really like it there.

 I've kissed one boy ever.

But that doesn't matter.

When I was in fourth grade I wanted to be an author.

I don't know what I was thinking, because I never really loved writing.

I'm sorry to say, but I still don't have any confidence in that area.

I'm not an author,

I'm not even a writer.

But I do call myself an artist,

and I love what I do.

You might not know me, 

and I wouldn't really blame you if you didn't.

Sometimes i'm quiet,

and that's okay.

I'm not hiding

To be honest,

I never really was.

So,

The "real" me?

My name is Keli Elizabeth Capel.

And, as always, Spell Check says that's wrong.

But that's okay,

because I am so much more than my name.

Laughter Lines

Some people try so hard to hide their wrinkles.

But I never will,
because every moment with you was worth the creases around my smile.

Yes, I miss you.
Every day I think of you.
But when I look in the mirror, I don't see tear stained cheeks,
I see those laughter lines.

And when we're together again
We'll share our tears and our stories,
but best of all, we'll share our smiles.
The smiles that have seen so much more since we said goodbye.

I'll see you
in the future
when we're older.
When we are full
of stories to be told.

Cross my heart,

and hope to die,
I'll see you,
with your laughter lines.

A poem to a dear friend, inspired by the song Laughter Lines by Bastille.

This is your heart, can you feel it?

On the stage
or the field.
the lights
and the crowd.
that last note
ringing
in my ears.

Performing, 
loving what I can create.
Music,
art.
I am an artist.

Emotion
and passion filling my soul.

If I love this song enough, maybe you will too.

Expressing music, or what it feels like to create it, through words is just so hard to do.
But let me tell you,

Music is power.

My life and my love,

and most of all, my passion.

Music is my heart.

086160

A hundred blue tickets,
each completely unique and precisely in place.
I look at the number but the word says
stars.

A source of life and a symbol of hope.

The lonely, humble, giants of the universe.
Go too far and you've lost their light,
too close and you burn
Written so small and so simply on the back of a little blue ticket.
Yet it represents so much.
Light and guidance and protection and
hope.
As human beings we keep looking up,
from our darkest places we reach.
Not to the deep night sky, but to the stars that light it.

Our hope lies just beyond the horizon,

Somewhere within those stars.

So look up.

The darkness Is just an illusion.

How to Remember

1. Take lots of pictures. Even if you think you look ugly. (Because no matter how you look, the memory will always be beautiful.)

2. Don't be afraid to talk about your best moments. Even if no one else can really relate to it.

3. Just think. Even if it's just for that brief moment before you fall asleep.

4. Write. Even if you hate it, keep a journal and write every day. And don't you dare forget this step.

5. Don't forget to live in the moment, you're still alive, and the memories are still coming.

6. Express yourself, through art or music or anything, but make it mean something to you.

7. Do something, get out there and create your story. 

8. Cry. Because sometimes it's hard to leave things behind, and crying can be a stress reliever.

9. Fall in love with what you're doing. If you don't love what you do, you should probably change something. (Even if it's just your attitude.)

10. Listen to music or the rain or the people around you. Take it all in and let it fill you.

11. Just smile. It happened, it's over, it changed your life.

I'm Not Dumb

I'm scared right now

because the words aren't coming

and I need to have a post done by 11:59.

But every single word that I write sounds cheesy and dumb and has been written before.

I'm lost 

and confused!

and I feel like an idiot.

My greatest fear in life: achieved.

over and over again.

Because, yeah, I'm afraid of heights,

and I'm afraid of spiders and wasps.

I'm afraid of kidnappers in the night

and the monster beneath my bed.

I'm pretty scared of the dark

and i'm really scared of rejection.

But by far i'm most afraid of being thought of as dumb.

I'm so afraid that as I pour my freaking heart out on this blog you're laughing at what I have to say

or that the only sticky note you'd leave in my journal says "uhhh..." like no one'd ever get what i'm writing. (oh wait, that already happened.)

I'm afraid that i'll get the question wrong

or that i'll make an incorrect claim

or spell something wrong.

Because all I've ever wanted was to be smart

and for everything to be easy.

But i'm not quite there yet.

So please just be a little patient with my stupid comments

and my misspeled wurds.

Because I'm working on it,

and I promise that I'm not dumb,

just a little scared.

Find Paris

What is Paris really? 

Because you call it inspiration,

creativity,

knowledge,

even participation.

But I call it love,

which, I guess, is really just all of those things combined into one word.

My Words

I am a collector of words.

But now my jar is full.
and I have to share them, but

It's hard 

because I'm selfish. 

These are my words.
No one understands them quite like I do.
That's why they're mine.
I'm not sure how to write in such a way that they'll make sense to you,

but I'll try,
and my jar will empty,

then I'll fill it once more.

I'll write you a poem if you'll write me a song.

When I think about you, the words just don't come.
And I don't know if that's a good sign or a bad one.
Because somehow, after all you've done for me, you just don't inspire me.
And I don't know why.
But maybe it's because it would take more than this complex arrangement of the same 26 letters over and over again to describe how I feel.
Because to try and explain my love would be a crime.
We have something good.
We have something special.
Lets never let go.

Broken

My mind is broken.
Shattered,
ripped apart,
torn to shreds,

unusable.

I  am  broken

Broken by thoughts
of could bes
and would have beens.
nearly hads, 
and wish I hadnts.

Oh the regrets
the almosts.

The would've dones,
and could have dones,
and probably should've dones.

The pieces of myself left to find.

I am made of mistakes

and crazy adventures.

Regrets and fulfillment.

broken pieces and lots of duct tape.

The things I've learned are worth the pain,

because I am broken  alive.

Keep

When you feel like you're broken
and you've done all that you know how.
When you're out of ideas
and creativity has left you dry.

There are few things left to do at that point.

But I say,
keep discovering
and keep creating.
Draw small
and write slowly.
Keep loving
and keep going.
Keep feeling
and keep knowing.
Play soft music
and read short stories.
Keep trying
and failing
and keep starting over.
Keep writing in cursive
and doing what you love.
But most of all, don't forget, to keep being human.

Because you are real.

The less the better.

And I want to burst into tears with every word.

So let's keep this short.

Happy Birthday to Me

I'm sorry but no.

I

am

really

just not

ready for

this crazy life

ahead of me.

Don't make me 

blow out 18

candles.

Please  don't make me

pretend to know what

I'm doing. Please don't

make me get a desk job

or fall in love too soon.

I'm pretty sure that you
forgot to tell me how to
pay taxes or vote for the
president. What is HOA
 anyway?  don't give me
that cake. I don't  want
your cards full with cash
 Where are my crayons?
Where  are my coloring
 pages? My stickers and
glitterglue? I'm really not
ready  to be all  on  my
own. I still need to be an
 astronaut, and travel the
world. Or did you think
those dreams died with
the  flames of  candles
from birthdays long past?

Don't Say That Word

Why are you so afraid to say it?

Its not poisonous.

I'm gonna say it.

I'm gonna say it.

Deep breath...

Here goes nothing...

I Love you.

phew.

There. I said it.

You better appreciate that.

Because, well, i'm not gonna say it if I don't mean it.

But I Don't Want Things to Change

This is for the future.
And for the now that I already miss. 
But most of all, this is for childhood left behind
and all the simple cares that I've long forgotten.

Lets take a trip back,

to a time when the only moments that I got along with my siblings were while we were playing Legos on our lazy Sunday afternoons

To that day when my brother taught me how to play poker.

And when we had a crazy babysitter, who we just called "balloon man"

Back to when we'd leave our plastic pool out so long that the grass would turn brown

and when we'd eat fresh blueberries from our three little blueberry bushes.

When rolling down the hills at the park next to my Dad's work was a weekly activity.

and being first in the lunch line was all I really wanted.

Back when my brother would order us pizza so that we could get the free movie that came with it.

But I don't play Legos anymore, and I still fight with my siblings.

I've forgotten how to play poker, and I haven't seen my brother in four years.

I don't need a babysitter anymore,

and the only thing I know about my lawn is that it needs to be mowed once a week.

My blueberry bushes are long dead.

My Dad lost his job, and if I roll down hills I get uncomfortably dizzy.

I don't eat school lunch anymore,

and I don't get free movies.

Times have changed, and they seem to have changed me.

But now I want my Legos back.
I want my brother.
and my crazy babysitter

I want my backyard pool.
and my blueberries 
I want my rolling hills
and my school lunch 
and free movies.
I want my childhood
and my creativity.

But mostly, I just really want my crayons back.

Because Anything

Here's to the letters I write, but you will never receive, and the empty pages left to fill.
To the words that I'm not even aware of yet, and the words that will never even reach the page.
This is to the years left to live
and the people left to know.
The cities left to see
and the places left to go.

There is so much left to be done
and I want to do it.
Because life doesn't last as long as you think it does.
And because we can do  a n y t h i n g

A Short Love Poem

In case you were wondering, yes, I am thinking of you. 
I'm always thinking of you.

What I Cannot do

I am not a poet.
I am not a writer.
I am not the author that I dreamed I would be back in elementary.  Heck,
I don't even read anymore.
But,
I am an artist.
I want to put emotions on the page,
to give them a home.

And when I find the time to read a word or two,
I find power.  Because
Words bridge the gap between
Imagination
and
Inspiration.

My First Mark

The blank canvas scares me to death.
There is nothing more terrifying than starting something from nothing.

And yet, here we are.

And maybe it's because the comfort of finding familiarity is worth the fear of a new begging. Because the finished work of art is always greater that the blank page it was created from.

I don't know if you'll like me, or maybe you'll think I'm just alright. But here's my disclaimer.

I am a dangerous optimist. I promise that I can find the good in anything.

I am a nostalgic mess, and I live in the past.

I am full of ideas. Perhaps just a little unsure of how to put them to words.

I am nothing special,

and I am afraid.

But here we go,