Cobalt Blue

Monet almost never used
the color black in his paintings
“white lead, cadmium yellow,
vermilion,
madder,
cobalt blue,
chrome green”
But not black.

I wonder what I’d do
without the color black—
I think I’d fear the night less
if I knew I was only shadowed
in darkest shades of cobalt blue.

Hey Sydney, I love your poems!! The loveliest part about your poems is that I can relate to all of them; they are like a reflection of myself. :) Sydney, can you give me some advice on how to get followers for my blog? Thanks!!

I’ve answered something similar to this before: http://operahousegirl.tumblr.com/post/27145220846

But my main advice would be to literally just wait, because getting a lot of followers honestly just takes a lot of time and dedication to frequent posting on tumblr. Also, commenting on other tumblr’s is a great start (: because it gets other bloggers to notice you. Also, thank you.

Hello sydney, having a good day? Hope so (: I was just wondering... Do you write on a constant basis or do you need to be in the mood for it? (unless you're always inspirated, but I don't think that's possible - prove me wrong haha) ~~ I've read almost entirely your 'writings' page, and I really like your style (especially 'Autumn is a Shooting Star...' - I love this one <3) ~~ Anyway, sorry for the long ask :3 - A truly admirer

I used to write on a constant basis! (Lately I’ve been lazy and busy and I write only when I have some time to spare and I force myself to come up with an idea). It sucks because you don’t have any ideas—but if you keep writing, one usually comes to mind. I think my best poems are written when I’m suddenly inspired with an idea and I want to write about it—but a lot of times a few good lines come from the sucky poems I’ve written when I’m uninspired and I can always reuse those lines later. (: Thank you for your interest! 

Jenga

She is stacked high like a Jenga tower—
full of holes and hands

that take pieces of her past
and bring them to the surface.

One wrong move and she’ll tumble over.

It’s odd because the higher she gets,
the more she can feel the wind
blow through her.

Houdini Girls

What is so wrong with the female body
that it must be hidden like it does not exist?

What is wrong with breasts? What is wrong with seeing breasts?
Why is a nude photo disgusting? Why do we hate our bodies?

We mark X’s on our flaws, on her flaws, on his flaws.
We mark X’s on her perfections
when we don’t have those perfections ourselves.

Is a body ours?
To pirouette with
or ink on
or touch
or run with? Or must it be saved for someone else?
Saved for only one pair of eyes?
Or one pair of eyes at a time?

There are too many rules to think about
when choosing a tank-top in 80° weather—

maybe it’s better just to sweat and be strangled by my neckline
and sleeves and not be called loose (not enough
to wriggle myself free either).

Who moves our lips and blinks away the sun?
Who picks us up and feels our bumps and bruises
and sorts us like fruit?

I know girls who fear invisibility;
they wonder why their fingers disappear
while erasing other girls away.

Houdini girls: who think their outline will stand bolder
if another’s fades away—

making another body irrelevant makes your body irrelevant.

A body is not a schoolboy to be dictated on how to be good.
It just is.
It exists—
whether a breast is hidden by a T-Shirt—it is there—on all women.

Why can’t our bodies be beautiful?
Beautiful enough to share with anyone we want
or beautiful enough to keep ourselves.
Beautiful enough to be ours.

If emphasis for gaining respect is on how I dress or do not dress—
what I show or do not show,
or to who I choose to show—
it will never be on who I am.

How can we ever be more than a body
when it is sun and moon and stars to show it
and sun and moon and stars to hide it?

Not a question, but a statement. I absolutely love reading your poems - the immense beauty in your expression. Thank you!

Thank you! It means a lot!

Not a question just a declaration - your words are beautiful. Never stop!

Thank you so much (:

Cheshire Cats

At night, we’re just Cheshire cats;
all you can see are the whites of smiles
and eyes.

We fall in the dark, like stars,
we scatter and stumble

our way around,
searching for others.

In the morning we rise up
huddled as one—

enough of us together
to light the world.

If some don’t resurface, we find another
hand to hold
another bulb to link,
to fill the vacant space:

it’s just another star down the rabbit hole.

i'm sure you've already been told a thousand times..but here you go again..your poetry is captivating.. i tried writing some myself but it's not so great as yours:) I look up to you.. just keep inspiring us and thank you <3

I’m sure your poetry is just as good as mine was when I first started (:

thank you!

Hello. I love you, your poetry, your blog, everything. Thank you for being wonderful. I'm looking forward to reading more of you on my dash. You never failed to make me smile. ♥ I'm a thousand miles away adoring a person like you. xoxo, Filipina. ♥

Oh my gosh, thank you so, so much! This is beyond sweet and wonderful.