self-examination

look around you
just examine the faces
of the people
sitting around you
wherever you are
what do they look like
they are thinking
what do you look like
when you think something?
imagine,
you are looking at yourself
from someone else’s perspective
what would they think
about you?
what do they think about you?
and do you actually care?

springtime in tucson
flowers growing
bare trees beginning to regain their
long-lost leaves
oh, and of course your
supply of
pollen,
dust,
allergies,
and newly hatched bugs
for the year

the four seasons

most places have four seasons
spring, summer fall, winter
well, i can’t say that i’ve
ever seen a real fall
living in the desert,
you don’t see any sort
of transition
between the extremes
hot and cold
you do hear the lovely
descriptions of
leaves changing color
flowers blooming,
medium temperatures
but you never see it

Rain
rain pounding on the roof
and my window.
the skies are grey
as perfection between black and white.
the rain beating out a rhythm
that my heart agrees with.
the water on the ground
pooling in small puddles
the lightning lighting up
my paper.
the thunder stilling
my beating heart.
the rhythm on the roof
calming me at last

Summer of Love

just one boy,
just one girl
both in swimwear
seen across the pool
at the hotel
that they are staying at
with their parents.
an exchange of names, urged by friends
blushing
awkward silences
then,
by the end of vacation
secret rendezvous
at midnight
they must go home
phone numbers are
exchanged
MySpace addresses.
and long distance
discovered for
the first time for both
rather difficult

on love

many say that
love is a strong emotion
propelled by fate
or money
or hair color
or height.
i disagree.
i believe that it is
the strongest emotion
ever felt by man
or animal
by plant or land
it is created
when two
kindred souls
meet.
we all say that we
have a “type”
a large group of women
prefer the mr. darcy:
tall, dark and handsome
a chiseled jaw
distinct blue eyes
my own type is
tall, dark, curly hair,
brown eyes lurking
behind glasses
button-down shirts
jeans
ready smiles.
a witty sense of humor
he can always make me laugh
our ideals come from
our first reciprocated
love,
methinks.
or it comes from our similar ideal
what we see as
everyone sees we are
(not that one can
ever see with such
clear eyes when
looking at oneself)
however, i digress.
i do not believe that love
depends on looks,
unless you marry shallowly
though, i do not believe
that if you marry shallowly
that you love other person
that you marry. it
just seems impossible
to me.
i do believe that
when you meet someone with a similar personality,
with idiosyncrasies
that will annoy
the crap out of you
then you will find love.
“do you believe in
true love?”
you ask,
stars in your eyes
i believe in a different
sort of “true love”
that most
though it is just as genuine
i believe that
there are many people
in this world
that you can love
and that can love you back.
“what about
soul mates?”
you ask, confused
ah yes
the hollywood-esque
belief
that there is one
and only one person
that is perfect for you
good luck
if you believe that
you have a 1/6 billion
chance of
finding them. or
you can believe in the
more believable thought
that these are some
people that have
similar souls to yours
that is the belief that is
held in my mind
love is complicated.

Only in Dreams

choirs sing in the background
there is an orchestra playing
dark, dramatic music.
i listen with my entire being
and allow myself to float
along with the beat
beating in time with my heart
as i rise up from the ground
i feel myself start to fly
my heavy heart is lifted
and i am happy at last.

Non-description

don’t think, just do
this is how many people live their entire lives.
they follow the stereotype
and dress in their non-descript suits,
drink their non-descript coffee
go to their non-descript cubicle
and do their non-descript job.
they might get a date for the night
but then they all go to a non-descript diner
where the ladies all wear non-descript black dresses
and the men wear non-descript suits that just might vary from
gray to black or brown.
and the men give the women non-descript red roses,
which the ladies will put into non-descript vases later that night.
what a varying world we live in.

Musical Enjoyment

the desert brush is passed by
by a car blasting rap music
how horrid
i dare not immagine having to listen to the music
that people passing me by listen to
the taste has dwindled
while i do not pretend to have the best taste,
what happened to classical music?
is it really for the elderly?
or am i allowed, at 15 years old,
to enjoy it?

hidden fairy

sitting in a tree
observing the world
from a leafy
green throne
casting her eyes down
deigning to look upon you
a distinct druid appearance
almost like a nymph
eyes dark green,
shining in the dark
melding within the tree’s
backdrop
her hair, long and brown
cascading over dark shouldsrs,
a smattering of freckles
gracing the skn
her long fingers
pulling back a thin branch
her lips pulled back
in a secret smile
she is laughing at the world,
silently
and no one else
knows the joke

dancing at the cëili

a distinct lilt
a tapping foot
three women onstage
singing their hearts out
about an irish ball
swinging through each other’s arms
one wonders what to do
for she has two loves
one is dark, and tall, and true
the other, fair and rich
another is lonely,
for her true love is away
and the third is here to have fun
searching for a nice man
to dance with at the cëili
((That’s inspired by the Celtic Woman song, Dancing at the Ceili))

Deigned

a beautiful faerieland
with many differing colours,
soft colours,
reds, pinks, blues, purples,
and calming, oh so calming music
music about love,
a soft baritone singing about what
i may never know.
she looks at me,
spreads her thin-as-paper wings,
and begins to fly away,
her lilac gown fluttering behind her
don’t go! i say
she looks back for an instant,
her eyes burning into me
i want to fly! i say
you already can. she replied.

Thanks guys! If you actually read through all of it, KUDOS! xD

(c) Caitlin Wynkoop. All rights reserved.

(warning: I’ve decided to write in no caps for my poetry, even though I’m a grammar nazi ^____^)

a sunny afternoon

the chirping birds
the sunlight streaming
across my newly-made bed
and spilling its touch
across my toes
which i crinkle in delight
warmth fills my body
and a smile lights up my face

beauty
beauty
what everyone sees
and yet spurns
at the same time.
why do all women
seek long hair?
and men
seek height
and dark hair
taking to a
darcy complex?
and then we all
deny any desire
to look desirable

cats

warmth against my leg
a small body lying on my knee
her ears pricking up
at every word
spoken or sung
on the soundtrack that
blasts
through the computer’s
tall black speakers,
her sleek black coat recently
washed
causing a hairball
and thus a small
puddle on my bedroom floor
some aspects of a cat
one can really live without.

chivalry

shockingly enough
when she walks through the door
there’s a hand
half-covered by a glove
holding it open
just above her head
the man in sunglasses
smiles down at her
and her faith in chivalry
is officially restored

outlook

what do you see
when you close your eyes?
do you see black,
just the back of your eyelids?
do you see the lights of the city
reflected in red, pink, and black?
do you see stars?
do you see the universe?
do you see your life
up to this point?
maybe you see
what you wish your life
would be
from this point on.
or the entire world
as though from space.
maybe a new story
maybe your best friend
or significant other
or all the sins
that you’re ashamed of
or nothing at all.

what of when
you open them again?
do you see the same
green, blue, purple, brown?
is my orange
your pink?
is my black
your red?
when i see a circle,
do you see a square?
is that rectangle on the wall
a triangle to you?
is this all disproven
in geometry,
my worst class in freshman year?
or are our worlds
the same?
is the world really
so predicable?

springtime in tucson
flowers growing
bare trees beginning to regain their
long-lost leaves
oh, and of course your
supply of
pollen,
dust,
allergies,
and newly hatched bugs
for the year

Sorry it was so long, but I felt kinda inspired one night. ^______^

(c) Caitlin Wynkoop. All rights reserved.

What is the feeling
That you get
In the pit of your stomach
When you know you’ve forgotten something
But for the life of you
You can’t remember!
It’s a heavy feeling
Like someone threw a rock down your throat
And it sank to the pit
Of your stomach
Oh,
But look now!
It’s crawling up your throat!
And got stuck
It’s too big,
And your esophagus cannot
Hold it in
But you don’t want to gag
God that would be embarrassing
Look at all the people sitting around you!
Or if you’re alone in your house
Think of your neighbors
Who are sitting at their window
With a pair of binoculars
Staring into your windows
Watching you all day
Seeing what you’re doing
Because, see, they have nothing better to do
Geez, aren’t you a little paranoid?
Do you honestly think that they have no life?

Oh, here’s my favorite quote:
“Just because I’m paranoid
Doesn’t mean they aren’t following me!”
That’s rather applicable to my own life
See, when I was a kid,
I always thought that my neighbors,
Who didn’t like my family because I went to a private school
I thought that their kid,
God only knows what his name was,
Was watching me all the time
I was a rather vain kid
But I must admit,
I never told anyone
I must have had some sense of
…
Propriety?
What’s the word I want to use?

Don’t you hate it when
You knew a really good word
But the words in front of it
Took too long to write
Or type
Or whatever
And you completely forgot it
It gets caught between the other words
Hiding between the letters of into
Or, in my case,
Between some and sense.
Or is it gobbled by I must?
Who knows?

And another peek into my childhood brain:

One thing
That I used to occupy my time
When I was little
And had all the time in the world
Was imagining what numbers’ personalities were
Well, four had a vanity issue
Because both six and eight liked her
But then sixteen had a special place in her heart
And five was her father figure
Keeping her safe from the six
But then her little brother 3
He really looked up to her
And fell hopelessly in love with 9
Who was many years older than he
And had no interest whatsoever
But led him on
Poor three
And what of one and two?
Well, they were on their honeymoon.
What a cute couple
And seven, that devil,
He was vacationing in Barbados.

(c) Caitlin Wynkoop All rights reserved.

This is just where I am going to publish some of my poetry. It’s all copyrighted Caitlin E. Wynkoop (that’s me).

A few things about me:

1) Yes, I am a grammar na.zi. I abhor “text-talk” and will edit anything I can to fix it.

2) I LOVE to use emicons:
a) =D means smiley face to you mere mortals
b) ^^ (cat ears)
c) ^^;; (embarrassed)
d) Etcetera. If you need a translation from my emicons or anything else, just leave a comment.

3) I plan to be an English major with poetry stress. I love ideas for college, so if you go to a really good college, leave a comment.

4) I am a very good beta. If you don’t know what that is, it’s someone who edits your stuff before you publish it on the web or otherwise. No, I’m not bragging. As Wilhelm (on TV) says, “I’m applying for a job!” xD

5) Yes, I am sort of OCD with symmetry. =D Thanks for asking.

I think that’s it. If I think of anything else, I’ll update it.