The Writings of Samantha Peters

Fictional short stories, poetry, and short essays written by Albuquerque-based writer, Samantha Peters. All opinions are exclusively hers alone.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

"The Crow" a poem

This is one of my favorite poems I've ever written. I just wrote it one day, and didn't edit it or anything, just left it as it was. Sometimes it can be very refreshing to leave pieces in their first draft, original form. They might be rough, or could use improvement, but their organic energy is impossible to duplicate. 

"The Crow"

 I laid down flat on the calm cool grass
  and my eyes drifted open and closed,
  but through the blur I could see a crow
  perched up on the branch above me
  His neck darted back and forth and all around
  Making shapes out of the sand
  I thought its funny how we look up
  And those above us look down,
  We make shapes of the clouds and the trees
  And they make the shapes that form you and me. 
  I wonder, do I only exist because this crow
  Fancied me from twigs and dirt,
  And a broken straw and a ring of string
  and maybe a cloth pulled from a shirt?
  And as I lay here in this grass, a sculpture made
  Do all his crow friends gather round 
  To nod or judge or just hold punch?
  And is there one crow who shakes her head
  And another who beams with pride,
  Is there a crow who dances around
  A little pony by her side?
  And what happens when the artist crow 
  Spreads his wings and decides to fly?
  I hope he plucks me up with his beak and
  Pushes me into the sky
  And away we can go, away we can go,
  Until I've been in the sky so long
  And he's carried me so far,
  That at last my wings will start to form
  and I too, have become a crow.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Quiet Like the Fire

"Quiet Like the Fire"

My pulse-
It's quiet like the fire
Ripping through seeping through
The thrill that I admire
And you-
Sitting there like a sire
All alone, we're never alone
When we're dancing on the wire.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

"For Taylor"

"For Taylor"

Unlike the lamb frolicking in the fallen snow,

I fear not the wolf's claw nor his gaze's glow.

All night's warriors gather at my feet

But I do not slip under that lustful stampede

Perhaps my soul is akin to the cunning crow

Still to the night, bleak to the cold-

Or else I'm the shadow of the anglerfish

Thirsting for the blood of your heart's abyss

Regardless, in strength I hold a steathly plan

Which makes me immune to the EveryMan.

Friday, August 22, 2014

"One Fell Swoop"

"One Fell Swoop"

A ghost of the river I cannot drown

He sits and waits without a sound

When time's a tramp you cannot coax

Anticipation always seethes the most

Down on my knees I silently plead

A slip of a lover just out of reach

Strokes of a glance across my face

As the darkness trembles with my disgrace

Beyond my opalescent eyes strikes

A shudder so swift it strips me dry

The bluff of silence you held up fierce

My spade slayed so brisk it seered.

A victor obscured amongst the midst

Yearning not for the crave of the boundless glimpse

Rat-a-tat scuttle, night's gathered cry,

One fell swoop yields wrists untied.

Monday, April 28, 2014

"A Spring Force"

"A Spring Force"

Ah, intoxicating freedom
Laced into my oxygen, coursing through my lungs
and into my blood, my pumping blood
Flooding out my veins
I smell taste touch hear everything but most of all
I see-
I see the portal through the world that connects you to me.

Decades of surpression surmount to
the ultimate revolution of soul
A spring force tucked down, bellowing, waiting,
hibernating through the fall
Where was the trigger, searched like a remote control
And finally released, the ultimate release,
An explosion of orgasmic energy that screams
I am free, I am free, I am free!

And now lay two specimens of delectable delight
Formed only by the craftiest of thieves,
And presented to me.
I now bathe in your honor, in your endless withering
I am your master, but I will bow to you.

Saturday, March 01, 2014

The Trophy

"The Trophy"

When people say nice things to me it always makes me feel good. There's this overall consensus that compliments should be nice. That's what makes them compliments, right? For a long time I believed in this without really thinking about it, until one day, very recently, I received the best compliment of my life up to this point. But here's the kicker: it wasn't nice at all.

To say it was brutal is an understatement. It was more like being fed into a wood chipper. Or having a karate black belt put on steel-toed boots and kick you for twenty-four hours straight. Or being tied up in the desert with honey smeared all over you and an army of ants coming your way. It was like being raped with words.

So how could this be the best compliment of my life? Well obviously I didn't have this opinion when it happened initially. I didn't even have this opinion afterwards for days. At first I thought, I just need time. I need space and time to heal from this. But now that I've had space and time, I realize I am not healed. But I also realized I'm not still hurt either. And that's when it hit me, that I wasn't hurt to start with.

How can you be fed into a wood chipper and not be hurt? This seems completely mad. I still can't make complete sense of it, at least not enough sense to really explain it to someone else. So maybe it'd just be best to explain the facts.

I'm sitting there with my boyfriend Rob of  two months. It's been a nice two months. In that time we have spent a lot of quality time together, getting to know each other, letting our relationship unfold as most do in those early moments. There were many things about Rob I really liked: he was smart and funny, cute in a dorky way, and was very laid-back. He was also really romantic and told me all the time how amazing I was, how I made his heart leap, how he thought about me all day, etc. etc. The boy was a walking Hallmark card and I loved it. Which is why the day I realized we had to break up was incredibly hard for me.

I thought about it all day. I was supposed to see him that night and I kept mulling over the pros and cons of everything. We had something good, that was obvious. He was crazy about me, also obvious. But something wasn't right and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Was it that we wanted different things? Was it that we were too different? Was there just not enough passion? I wasn't sure. And maybe that was it, I wasn't sure. And when you're not sure you shouldn't do anything until you are.

So I called him up and said we needed to talk, and he agreed. I went over to his house and told him how I was feeling, and he listened attentively. I was relieved at how well it was all going, and thought we might actually get out of this relatively unscathed. That was, until, this exchange:

Me: So anyway, I figured it was probably best to end things now, and part ways amicably.

Rob: Yeah, I agree. It's not like we are super in love.

This comment surprised me because of how gushy he had been about his feelings and thoughts of me. I didn't necessarily think he was in love with me (in truth there was significant evidence to support that he was) but it was just an odd thing to say. I almost dismissed his comment, but then thought wait a minute, that just doesn't make sense. Why would he say that? So I decided to challenge it.

Me: Really? We're not?

Rob: No, not really. I mean, like when we're together, it's nice. But when you're not around, I just feel... its weird. It's like I know you're out there, patiently waiting for me, being so good... like you're just, so good. And I feel so guilty because it's like, you're so good and I'm just... here. Like, sometimes I even feel kind of indifferent towards it all.

What. The. Fuck. I had no idea what to say to this. The day before, I mean literally, the day before, we had spent the whole morning in bed together. We had made love twice in the space of three hours. And now he's telling me he was indifferent towards it all? That's way worse than saying he doesn't like me. Not liking me I can handle. But fucking indifference??

Me: Um, when were you planning on telling me all this?

Rob: Yeah, well, I don't know. I think I was just trying to like, see what would develop. Because like I said, when we were together it was nice, so I just thought I could like, make it work, you know? I mean you are so amazing-

So now I'm amazing, even though he's indifferent towards me. Wow.

-and we just have all this chemistry, but like... I hate myself for saying this, because it really shouldn't matter. (at this point, he starts crying) But it does matter, and it totally sucks, and I just hate that it matters, you have to know that... but like, I want a trophy. I hate hate hate that I want one, but I do. It sucks. It really really sucks.

I'm totally stunned by this and really, all function between my brain and my mouth has stopped working, so I can't even formulate words at all, yet alone the right words to express how I feel about all this. I just kind of sit there catatonic for a few seconds, as he rambles on a bit longer. And yes, he's still crying. I don't care if a man cries in front of me, but I do hate it when they cry to manipulate us. They really think we're that easy, that a few tears will turn us into their mothers. All is forgiven, my little boy. Why don't you go play with your legos while I make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off, and we'll forget this whole silly business of how you completely disrespected me? There's a good boy.

Finally, my brain and mouth start communicating.

Me: Well, I don't really care that you want a trophy. If that's your thing, it's your thing. You want to put sex above intimacy and conversation and companionship for life, be my guest. If you don't care that you'll never know if the woman who is with you is with you for you or for your money, then good for you. If you're cool with having to change partners every five to ten years because your trophies lose their shine, go nuts. It's a free country.

Rob: Well that's what I'm saying, like I do want those things, I want true love, I just don't know if it's out there. It just doesn't seem real.

Me: Oh it's real all right. But you're never going to experience it. That's what's really sad in all this.

After that I left. I kept thinking about what he said though, about me not being a trophy. It really bothered me. I thought it bothered me because he was saying I wasn't valuable or beautiful or whatever, but now that some time has passed I realize that's not it at all. I'm not upset that he doesn't see me as a trophy. He's actually right, I'm not one. Being a trophy goes against everything that I am as a woman, as a person. I am not a prize. I will not sit on a shelf and collect dust. I will not be thrown away after a few years because the initial excitement of winning me has faded. And best of all, I will never end up with losers like Rob who only want me to look good and do absolutely nothing of worth. That clueless, selfish idiot gave me the best compliment of my life.

"The Stream"

"The Stream"

Trickle down,
little stream
rolling through the hills
Trickle down,
so tenderly
like a tear on a windowsill
Trickle down
throughout the rocks
Smoothing the scabrous stone
Trickle down
over the brush
and heal them grizzly bones.

Ignore the frost
nipping at your toes
And cleanse the parched lips
of the doe;
Soak through the roots
of the might oak
and all the earth has turned to sow.

Trickle down,
little stream
around the bramble's bend
Embrace the heart of your true love
My old and cherished friend.

Sunday, February 09, 2014

"Lovers in the Night"

"Lovers in the Night"

A prodigious refugee darkens my window
Glaring inside with marvel but not with fright
Although clutched I am to my dearest treasure
And with such a flimsy a boundary as a wall
I know there is no danger, just the danger to my core.

Dare I let in this aberrant creature to sit down
Ascertain her motivations through quips about the weather
It may lead to a clarification of matters left unsolved, if only
I did not lack the immaculate fortitude to move on.

So instead I opt to leave my halcyon hamlet and grab
My coat to head out into the stony stoic cold
And jollily yet concotedly I invite my guest to dinner
And so we start a game for which both players are superior
Wits matched so synchronically it is a shame there can only be one winner
I am not right-handed and yet, I know neither is she
And we both so apprize our knight but pretend to love our queen
She keeps a pistol tucked inside her boot, and I a knife
But we walk together, arm in arm, like two lovers in the night.

I have resolved, though through solitude I walk, not to
return until I have slayed this stranger through
Until she is wallowing in the pity that stroked her form to start.
But alas, our goals are one in the same, is true, our spirits be,
And so I must accept my fate to be gone eternally.