Though I've been
divided, I've
decided I won't change for you.
I think that I've
invited {welcomed in} the truth that I
will always reside on the bottom;
and in a world where everybody
(wants to win...)
I believe that makes me
✨odd✨, therein,
and remarkably uncommon.
*
You say you want to hear "a story".
Yes, right before me (through the grapevine) I
have learned you may be
unimpressed by pretty words...
well here's an allegory (if)
you'll sit for me and
[simply listen...]
a tale of how
my voice was heard
>>amid<<
all that sparkles, shines, and glistens;
of how I became {{ok}}
with being
{{odd, absurd, and different}}.
*
Once upon a time
(there was)
a little girl with
messy curls (who)
grew up right beside her
mother's window to the garden;
always outside (never)
inside, she
abided to the cries of
blue jays, larks, and
robins...
and the busy, buzzing bees, amid
their hives (as they)
collected
gathered
garnered all
[[their pollen]].
She always dreamt of being vibrant;
though unlike the
{{socialness of butterflies}} she was
calm and shy and quiet...
-- oh, how she envisioned --
fitting in with all the others by
overcoming her thick silence;
by breaking free
of all the prisons she
succumbed to with
her introverted...
self-inflicted inner violence.
*
Dreams were dreams (you see)
and she would often
oddly talk to violets...
uncommon in a [[tribe of lions]], for
her energy was cotton-soft and
nondefiant;
she was always just a rare bird, (just)
a quiet grouse amid the
vibrant world of robins,
always sticking out (yet)
somehow also always robbed in ways
that stole her thoughts and words,
she was lost in ...
her own caution ...
she was quiet and forgotten.
*
Later on, (as she grew up)
the [wide-eyed pup in her]
began to blur and
fade away ...
she grew a crush on
handsome birds who
hushed her words and would not give
her little heart the time of day.
She was never the most {lovely} ...
(with tasseled hair)
she always felt so fucking
ugly;
just a funny late bloomer (she was)
always caught in / always fascinated by the many
roosters and the jays ...
always dreaming up of ways (that she could)
captivate them all and make
{them hear the words she yearned to say}.
*
Dreams were dreams (you see)
and she would often
romanticize and create...
a kingdom (tucked inside) her mind, where
she had quite the
burning confidence (no sturdy soul) would ever dare to break -
where she was more than just
a rare bird, (not known as just)
an ugly ducking stuck amid the many
lovely swans and all the robins -
never robbed in ways that
stole her thoughts and words,
a place where she was never lost in
her own caution ...
where she wasn't quiet or forgotten.
*
Time did pass (as) time
will do, and as
it did, she inescapably began
to languish ...
the fact that she was still so capably
incapable
of living life without a language.
And that was when she took off running, and
(in her freedom) gained
command with ...
a gallery
(a library)
a menagerie so grand - a Colosseum ...
of phrases and expressions (serving as)
museums and
ascensions for her prose -
and as she learned to speak in Spanish, she
{{began to blossom like a rose}}.
*
Dreams were dreams (you see)
and though she'd gotten
used to living in the shadows...
in Mexico (her footsteps felt) untrodden as
her hollowed sparsity departed and
her artistry arose;
she felt rebuilt (and was now thrilled to be)
a rare bird, **just**
a soul (who) wallowed far from
all the swallows and
the robins ...
still a sore thumb that stuck out
but now just (the slightest bit so) hardened
>>traveled
GROWN;
no longer lost in ...
her own caution ...
always so ***alone*** (but never more)
forgotten.
*
In the end
she wrote herself a
pair of wings (that)
bloomed across the mural of
her soul ...
and with her heart (and with)
her life,
she created a new poetry
(that helped her find her coterie)
and allowed her lovely petals to
unfold.
Clarity became her
second nature (and she)
favored vivid imagery and especially odd prose ...
she spared herself [a misery] within -
by avoiding being something different
**just to win** ....
she was a rarity
(she dared to be)
and she was now complete
and whole.
*
Dreams were always
DREAMS (you see)
and in her past, she'd often
question who she was (and she would be)
uncertain of her role.
Always wanting all the common ears
to listen... (now she)
does not care too much about tradition,
(about)
anyone's opinion (for she's)
DIFFERENT, she's
deliberate with the language of
{{her soul}}.
And while [they who judge me] may
believe my blossomed fruit
is rotten ...
to completely change me would
dilute the labor of (my love) and make me common;
and in a world where all my words
have fought in countless acres upon acres
to be finally. fucking. heard ...
why on Earth would I
want to be another
blue jay bird
or robin?
I may be rare but
be it may
what it may be, and when I'm gone
this will be what's left of me -
(it's fine with me ...)
for even if I [[never win]]
I am different, not
forgotten.
*
-Gina C. 🧚♀️✨
Author's Note: Be true to yourself and the language that speaks to you. I think we get caught up in trying to figure out the "secret" to winning these challenges. I, too, have often asked myself how I can change my work to perhaps better fit what the judges are looking for.
It took me a long time to establish a form of communication where I feel confident expressing myself. My unique style of poetry is a reflection of how I learned to feel beautiful - which was a very long and complicated journey.
Call me a "rare bird", but why would I change this? If valuing my authenticity over changing myself to win makes me strange... then so be it!
While I'd truly love to win someday - and would feel incredibly honored if I did - I'd want it to be for something that was 100%, authentically me - not for something that I altered just to appeal to someone's taste.
My story is rare and my art is odd. I'm owning it. I do not want to exist in a world where I must sacrifice one for the other - for doing so would diminish the voice that took me so long to find.
I will find my people. I do believe this.
***
Thank you so much for reading! ☺️ I'm working really hard to grow my community on Vocal, so if you enjoyed this poem, I'd be over the moon if we could be friends and support each other here!
I reciprocate all comments, hearts, and subscriptions. :) ❤️
About the Creator
Gina C.
Achievements:
- Twice-published in Vocal's Moment of Freedom Collection:
Free-Form poet of ethereal style🧚♀️✨
Fantasy writer
A sucker for a good rhyme☺️
Fueled by a conflicted soul of fire & water
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
Comments (42)
A breathtaking song/story. Well done.
Your poems are decadent and deep-reaching. This one especially! Such a vulnerable piece, so elegant and moving, yet warmly touching. Your rhythm and grasp of what make a poem semi-ethereal is amazing. LOVED this one! A LOT!
I love the way you use the font set, a little chaos that settles as a beauty all of its own!
👍
❤️I appreciate the note you left 💯❗❗
Absolutely remarkable! Your style and prose are one of a kind!
Fantastic story.
Something different
I read this and feel… like you are my people. Love this, and loving who you are more and more with everything I read by you. I would say, “never sacrifice your rarity to fit in”, but you already know that…this poem is clear testament. Congrats!
Beautiful... Very good!
Congratulations on Top Story, Gina!
Your work inspires me to be a better writer, poet. You have an amazing voice, style.
Congratulations on your exuberant and lovely top story!!
Resonates on so many levels. Love it. :)
Nice
-for doing so would diminish the voice that took me so long to find- Absolute gold in my opinion. Crafting this story was an act of genius. I would give 100 hearts if I could... Here's a few more. 💖💖💖💖
Elegantly crafted. The layout is as much a work of art as the words. Very well done!
Loved the piece and especially the author’s note! Stay rare!
Beautiful work from a Beautiful Soul! Congrats on your TOP STORY! 😊
Words fail me! But yours do not. Only mine to express how incredibly wonderful this story of your authenticity is. Your personal evolution has been a beautiful journey that we can all learn from and decide that what we are is what we are meant to be! I am so happy that you won Top Story. Keep up the good work of just being you! By the way, I would be honored to be your friend!
beautifully written!
Wow! Just wow! I loved every single word of this. Everton so carefully crafted and placed just sucked you in and wouldn't let go, and I didn't want it to either! Very well done.
Achingly beautiful. A juxtaposition of vulnerability and strength throughout, and such pretty, pretty imagery. I love your poetry, Gina! Congrats on the top story!
Oh yeah! congrats on the top story.
I so love your style. Don't change a thing. You really are that rare bird, a truly gifted writer.