Category: Creative Writing

Creative Nonfiction, Creative Writing, horses

Creative Nonfiction: The First Fall

Kyle Freelander

The first fall is an inevitable milestone for any serious rider. It’s something you try not to think about but you always know it is going to happen. It has to happen.

My first fall was off of a flea bitten gray horse named Cotton. Well, technically he was a pony since he fell just under 14.2 hands, but he was taller than me which made him a horse in my book. Now cute “little” Cotton had a secret habit: He would hold in all the air he could when people put his saddle on so it wouldn’t be as tight on his stomach.

Clever not-quite-a-horse-horse.

I didn’t notice Cotton’s scheme until it was too late to do anything about it.

We had made it through the pleasant group trail ride and had managed to make it back to the outdoor ring where we were supposed to cool down before calling it a day. Cotton and I were happily trotting to the far end of the ring to claim our space on the track without a care in the world.

But we never made it.

Read the rest on my horse blog, Beyond the Saddle and share the story of your first fall below!
Creative Writing, Dating/Relationships, Poetry

Poetry: Edges

kylefreelander

She is all edges

and I see you try

to sand her down

so she is as smooth

as a stone made for skipping

across your heart,

but still edges grow about her.

Like plants in the doormat,

they appear when you are not looking,

as if overnight. You shake

your head in disbelief

as she stands strong

against you when you hoped

she would melt at your feet

and heed your command

–yet again –but she does not

crumble and she does not bleed

for you anymore. Steel warrior

of her life starting today,

and you dare to ask

for tomorrow.

 

 

 

Photo courtesy of flickr

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: Love Sludge

kylefreelander

You choose to make me live a lie

when that is not a choice you are allowed

to make alone. I know you and I know

when you lie, when you cross lines

only to pretend you are innocent.

I gave you the chance to confess,

to put the pain of a lie touching

my “I love you”s to rest, but you continue

to play with me and my heart. I try

to move forward with you but lies

keep us tethered to the past, unresolved

and consequently bitter to the point

where three simple words become

so complicated, pouring out like wet sand

instead of sugar. I want us to move along,

to go forward, but I cannot be the one dragging

you through the sludge we’ve made

with every lie and secret and half-truth

that stole our honesty and our love.

Creative Writing, Dating/Relationships, Poetry

Poetry: Suppose

kylefreelander

Suppose we never met.
Suppose we never dove into love.
Suppose you weren’t at the bar
to catch me as I fell down.
Suppose we never kissed.
Suppose we never felt the fireworks.
Suppose I wasn’t there to fill
the void she left inside of you.
Suppose we never lied.
Suppose we never said goodbye.
Suppose we never did
get it quite right.

Creative Writing, Dating/Relationships, Poetry

Poetry: Gatekeeper

kylefreelander

I know there are times you don’t see me,

times when we are apart and I am so far

from you that I don’t cross your mind.

Those are the times the gates fly open

and you round up the cattle to keep

you company in the empty field.

You tell yourself it’s innocent,

I know you do, that it’s all in good fun.

It’s a game with no rules

but everyone, including me, know

when it’s played. I fear these times

the most. It feels like my heart

is buried under stone after stone,

a weight so heavy I begin to choke.

You know nothing of that though.

It is a concern I keep to myself,

in my locket that I guard better

then I am able to guard my heart

from you and your field that feeds

plenty when I am away. I wonder

how long it takes for something

to remind you of me, if it happens

at all. Does it take minutes or hours

or even days? Maybe you don’t think

of me the whole time I am away

for I am not there to keep them at bay

and you are too weak in the knees

not to fall at the feet of these sheep

and ask them to play with a big bad wolf.

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: Pillow Top

kylefreelander

Some stories end

and some go on.

 

I told you “I love you,”

but I was wrong.

 

Too many nights of uncertainty

were lying next to me,

 

pillow top couldn’t make lies

STOP

nor put me to rest

anymore.

 

I tell you a story

of boy meets girl.

 

You buy a ring.

You buy a dream.

 

With words like diamonds,

you enchant and hurt me,

 

relentlessly, effortlessly,

until tears are considered normal.

 

It was a story of a girl

who loved a boy too much.

 

A cut I know won’t heal,

a scar I will always feel,

 

tongue lashing, we’re crashing

and I cry out for you—-

 

Some stories end,

and some go on.

 

Boy meets girl,

and it was wrong.

 

There was a ring

and a dream,

 

and a girl who loved

a boy too much.

 

I say, “I love you,”

but the pillow top

makes it all STOP.

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: Windows

kylefreelander

Windows that have been shut should not be opened.

From time to time you can glance through them

and remember a life you once led, but be careful:

too much time starting out a window surveying

memory lane is a trap. You don’t look forward

because you’re too busy looking back. With palms

pressed against the fragile glass, you beg for the familiar,

the embrace that once protected you,

instead of seeking something new. You don’t age

and you don’t grow, you’re always that little girl

crying at home alone. Saliva kiss marks on salt-stained glass

from a girl who knew it wouldn’t last. A slam of a fist

with a wish to be fixed that no one can grant.

A crack in the glass where he tries to make his way back

to her but she cannot be found waiting there. She has changed

and she has grown, done staring at closed windows getting cold,

and when he reaches for her again she knows to pull back and turn away,

for this wasn’t forever they were facing together. It was the end.

Articles about relationships, Creative Writing, Dating/Relationships

Dating: Love Will Knock You Down

kylefreelander

One day you will kiss the wrong person hello because you are eager not to feel alone. The kiss will be plastic and there will be no spark but you will stay anyway. A hand held remains warm for a while, even if there is no fire. You are tired of being cold.

Love Will Knock You DownOriginal Image from flickr

One day you will fall for the wrong line because you are a lover of words that weave their way through your soul and make themselves at home in your heart. You collect these words in clips and phrases so they fit into your memories until they have grown sour with time. You will try to tear them out of your past and out of your mind but you cannot keep them from their home. This is something you will learn to understand because you know words are more than “just words”: they are moments and ideas that expressed something you thought would never be captured, and yet there it was. Hold onto that even if it hurts.

One day you will leave the “right one” for the wrong reasons. You will wake every day wishing you could take it all back, but what’s done is done. Find comfort in the fact that there will be a time you will leave the “wrong one” for the right reasons.

One day you will hold back an apology you should have said. This will be the apology that floats like a tumbleweed through your body, resurfacing when you let your mind wander back to all the times you could have said those words but bit your tongue with pride instead. Learn to say sorry; learn to set yourself free.

One day you will promise someone a premature “I love you” because you want so badly for that to be true. However, love cannot be forced. You can make yourself say the words but you cannot make your heart feel something it does not. One day you will figure that out, but not before somebody gets hurt.

One day you will bleed from pain caused by someone you care for. May the offense be little or large, your blood will spill the same way tears fall: slowly at first and then faster and faster until there is nothing left for you to offer. From the middle of the pool you will cry out, but no one will hear you. There you will sit until you learn to stand on your own two feet once more. When you stand again you are strong, but not immune.

Use that strength to start over.

{{Originally published at Thought Catalog.}}

sad love quotes

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: My Sombrero Is Too Big

kylefreelander

I don’t like writing poems

about death, especially his,

because it would mean

having to accept that he

was never coming back

into this world to hold

my grandmother’s hand

and play that song on repeat

about getting sombreros

for Christmas.

It would mean no return

to draw whiskers

on my face in marker

stolen from my

Doodle Bear,

and it would mean

birthday cards

only from grandma

when it was always

from the two of them,

and it would mean

that he had passed

away and that I miss

him more than I ever

let on, because it’s hard

to let go of those

you never wanted

to leave.