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hiddenlittleoasis · 4 months

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Thought I'd share an old poem I wrote a few years back while I keep working on a new short story to share!

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The sun shines brightly today,

And I know I can conquer the world.

I know that nothing is too big to ever stop me.

And it’s in my confidence that I build my plan;

To fly above it all.

To grab the universe by it’s strands of stars;

And hold the sky on a leash.

It’s today that I will not be stopped;

And today that I will be as big as the sun.

The day that I will soar just as high.

Untethered to the ground.

So I get to work.

I melt together these wings made out of confidence and bravery;

And jump out of the tower I’ve confined myself to.

The world below me shrinks...

I get closer to the glory of the sun...

Then it’s heat grows angry,

And it’s size strips away what I knew.

I forget how to fly.

Then I too, like Icarus,

Pummel to the sea.

It’s as I’m crashing I begin to realize,

My hands are too small.

Too small to hold the world together all on my own.

It’s while I’m sinking that I notice the sunlight shining through the water above me.

Mocking my confidence.

Taunting my failure.

It’s while I’m fading that I can feel the change.

My wings fall apart around me as my bravado does too.

The water fills my lungs the same way that embarrassment and doubt do.

Rushing too fast,

Restricting too much.

I can’t breathe.

So I give up.

I give into the waves and the tower that held me.

Give in to all the words I’ve heard before,

And the things I’ve told myself.

With nothing to hold on to,

I let go.

Every piece of me is lost with every feather that peels from my skin.

And I drown.

When I wake on the beach there’s a siren next to me,

Whispering words of confidence,

Promising I don’t have to give up.

She takes my hand and sings me her song,

She kisses my head and tells me I’m enough,

She holds my doubt and eases it,

Assuring she will be with me the entire way.

She cradles my heart as she teaches me to stand.

I relearn how to walk,

To sing,

To smile.

She tells me humans were never made for wings.

We build our home on that beach.

We build our life on that beach.

We learn our place in the world.

We learn to befriend the sun.

Together we walk among stars,

And fly between planets.

Hand in hand.

All while never leaving the ground.

The world spins with the ebb and flow of time.

The seasons change continuously,

Every turn bringing new things to life.

Feelings, challenges,

Canyons and mountains.

Yet we stand strong.

Grounded in our solidarity.

The sun shines a little dimmer today as I remember I’m too small,

And these hands shake too much;

Because I was never the one made to hold the world.

#creative writing #poetry #greek mythology #icarus #old writing #presenting this was so scary that my voice cracked in the middle of reading it and people laughed🥲

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hiddenlittleoasis · 4 months

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Here's my first writing piece of this account! (Posted below)

Shoutout to @cysketch for creating this lovely piece that served as my inspiration💕

Early bird songs are carried away in the morning winds, but not fast enough to keep the whistling of the feathered choir from sharing their work with the ears of young Poca.

The rabbit boy stirs awake to start one of the last mornings left of summer, shivering as reminders of autumn gust through an open window and out another. Even knowing of the unlikely chance of getting a visitor today, he diligently gets up. He hurries to ready for the day: pulling on a sweater, descending the stairs, counting stock, and opening up the door to the little home shop.

Poca breathes in deeply as another chilled gust sweeps through his home, rattling the children's toys hanging on display. Like most things Poca has for sale, it’s only thanks to the winds that blow through the high-rise that a layer of dust hasn’t made its home on all the merchandise. Many times Cherrise, Poca’s neighbor downstairs, has told him how foolish a shop so hard to reach is. Many times Cedeir, the friendly delivery critter, has crawled to Poca’s door, gasping for breath through jokes equating the climb up Poca’s stairs to a hike up a mountain. Many times Poca has just smiled kindly, opening shop again the next day with the same vigor as the day before.

Today is no different.

Right on time, just as every day, a box rolls up the steps with a huffing and puffing Cedeir behind it. “Must you order so many boxes to the summit of your mountain Poca?”

And Poca politely smiles.

Not long after Cedeir has left there’s a rattling below Poca that pauses as a window is pulled open. “Are you still insisting on running that shop, silly rabbit boy?” Cherrise calls out.

But Poca just smiles.

Soon it is midday. Tiny mice hurry from their cozy homes, dug out of some of the many boxes in Poca’s shop. They greet Poca eagerly with many excited squeaks. Poca greets each back just as happily, not by name for they have none, but by giving each their favorite unique snack from his shop before setting down some of the aging snacks out in dishes for the friendly mice to feast.

The morning winged choir returns shortly after the mice have had their meal, singing to Poca with a familiar tune. He is no stranger to the daily performance that his feathered company puts on in hopes of earning their dinner for the day, and politely applauds as the show finishes before setting out more dishes of old shop snacks. The birds hurry to fill their beaks before taking off to hide on the roof. Poca’s gaze follows them until they disappear over the edge of the fading red tin, contently admiring the creatures much smaller than him.

A petal falls from a disturbed window box as fleeing wings stir the plant inside, drifting down towards Poca, gently settling between his ears as he turns his gaze to the soft clouds of cotton floating by. The color fading from the petals and browning in the leaves that Poca has so persistently cared for serves as another gentle reminder of the cooler season rapidly approaching. Meanwhile the colors changing on the clouds reflect the day slowly drawing closer to a close.

For a while more Poca keeps watching the sky around him from his favorite spot; in front of a display fridge with his own name printed on it, hiding memories of a paint-filled summer night. As Poca watches the fleeting moments of summer, cherishing the last few memories they’ll make with the critters this year, an evening autumnal wind sweeps past Poca’s high rise, rustling the tired plants and biting at Poca’s fluff through his sweater. The clouds hasten their drifting just slightly as the breeze urges them towards the horizon, to meet with the sun that is rapidly setting.

The sun escapes the sky much quicker than it once did, and the nip of the nighttime air ushers Poca back inside his little shop. He grabs a little broom to sweep, searching for some activity to serve as an excuse to keep the shop open just a little longer in case of any traveler in need stopping by.

A new voice, almost swept away in the winds, “E-Excuse me?”

Poca is quick to turn around, and his guest continues on hurriedly when they see they’ve gotten someone’s attention. “Do you have water? My family is traveling, uhm migrating, because of the cold weather and my grandmother is very old and thirsty and…” Poca smiles gently as they put bottles into a bag, letting the older bird child go on.

Before the bird child can finish their extensive plea Poca is already coming around the counter, kneeling down and offering the well packed bag. “O-oh thank you s-sir! How much do I need to give you? I have…” the bird child starts to ramble again, but Poca makes no requests, only insisting on giving them the bag.

Watching the eyes of the bird child widen as they finally understand Poca’s kind offer warms a deep place inside Poca’s chest, fighting back against the biting cold of the night. “T-thank you sir!! I…I’ll tell my family about you!! Goodbye!” The bird child grabs the bag and struggles to take off with the extra weight, but soon soars off into the distance until they blur with the dark of the sky.

Cherrise would ridicule him, telling Poca about how he can’t run a successful business by giving everything away.

Cedeir would question him, asking Poca where he gets all his packages from if he isn’t making a profit from his sales.

Poca wouldn’t mind though, he knows the warmth he feels inside from the grateful smiles pays for so much more than a few snacks and bottles of water.

Soon Poca shuts off the lights and closes up his doors, hurrying up to bed.

After all, tomorrow will be a busy day.

#writing #creative writing #short story #writing exercise #cozy reads

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