Claire Voyant

DIGITAL PORTFOLIO

recent posts

about

  • identidad

    So goes the question of identity

    What makes a person fundamentally 

    The question that determines my identity 

    Who am I

    And who I’ve been 

    If I say yes, is my answer right?

    It’s how you see me

    If I say no, is my answer wrong?

    Different than who I seem to be

    The people my body represents 

    The history that my mind cannot repress

    The power that my soul seems to possess

    How many waves can I make for myself

    It’s the culture in my hands that makes me perplexed

    For part of my identity is passed form one generation to the next

    But

    The people that my gender represents 

    The knowledge my mind seems to possess

    The passion that my soul cannot suppress

     How many waves can I make for myself

    It’s the ideas and words that I believe in that makes me want to express

    For it’s the defiance of society that shows to impress

    So I’ll ask again 

    Who am I

    Is my identity 

    How you see me to be

    Or do I get to choose

    Who I see in me 

  • exile

    To see you I turn

    To know you I burn

    and therein lies the most solicitous mind

    A deceit so grand in size

    Even the most condoned juror

    May not spare him exile

  • sharing a sky

    You are the sun

    And I am the moon

    You come at dawn

    And I humble my turn

    When time comes for us to part

    Let’s hold our differences to great sublime

    Cold, dark, barren world

    It’s Our balance that keeps a tight hold

    And through them magnanimous blizzard

    Of day and night

    There will always be a place

    For you and I.

  • i am half agony, half hope

    I am half agony, half hope

    Lost in the eye’s of a forgotten foe

    Drowning in the remains of a shattered soul

    Save not my wanton soul

    –

    Hold! Hold! You treacherous foal!

    How dare you give up our own home!

    There’s a point in life where it’s not your own.

    When your country calls what isn’t theirs,

    To surrender without fight is the greatest fault.

    —–

  • imaginary Me

    Prompt: You’re a kid’s imaginary friend. He’s growing up. You’re fading away.

    He was six when I was born. A figment of a child’s imagination. Brought to life by the loneliness of a boy who got only a speck of the love he truly deserved. I remember playing and holding hands as we’d jump across the meadows, free in way that was so innocent and full of life. I remember how he’d jump when he heard his father’s menacing voice, booming loudly in their sorry excuse of a house. I remember how we would lay in his bed, hiding beneath his sheets as the reeking smell of alcohol crept up the walls and to his very dreams.

    I was his best friend, his only friend. Like any 10-year-old, he would ramble consistently to me, with hardly any pauses, blabbering about everything he did and everything he planned to do. I listened closely, never having the heart to tell him that I was with him when he did everything he did and would be with him in everything he planned to do. 

    When he was eight when he tied his first shoelace; we celebrated with his stuffed toys and drank packet juice. He was nine when he had his first crush: Big Brenda. He told her he liked her and she called him a weirdo. He got over it eventually but only after we ate pizza and drank milkshake at Betty’s. Of course when he was ten he realized people weren’t supposed to have imaginary friends but I don’t think he minded. We still talked everyday.. just not in public anymore.

    The day after his thirteenth birthday marked The Incident. A kid was getting bullied in school and all he did was watch. I told him, egged him even, to do something. Eventually he got mad enough and yelled at me to stop. Everybody looked. He ran away.


    The following day the school recommended a shrink who said that teenagers weren’t supposed to have imaginary friends. To my surprise and to my great disappointment, he agreed. We didn’t talk much after that.

    Throughout his teenage years I would be there only when I was needed. His first break-up. The first time his dad beat him senseless. The first time he got drunk at home and scared our neighbor. Not to his knowledge, I was there for every happy memory too. The first time he got into Junior Varsity Basketball and then Varsity. The first time his dad sobered up. The first he won cross-country and every time after that.

    Our relationship strayed over the years but never broke, not even once. Well, maybe once. His second year of college I realized he didn’t need me anymore. He was a big boy now, he didn’t need littl’ old me. I doubt he even remembered me, but I did. I remembered him and I remembered us. However, deep down I know he never forgot me because that’s the only way I’m still alive, in his memories.

  • thinking out loud

    I’m lonely but not alone

    Frightened but no fear

    Hurt but not in pain

    Worthless some might think

    I stare at these walls.

    Mind blank and on the run

    I’m down the rabbit hole

    Deep down

    Just waiting, still waiting for the mad hatter

    My silent screams bounce of walls

    Darkness creeps, i might fall

    I wish a zombie sucked my brains out

    Why cant i stop thinking,

    Thinking out loud

  • inevitable

    I am not as dumb as you think.

    I am not as good as you think.

    Every personality and opinion you thought I had was a facade.

    I am an array of smoke screens and mirrors.

    Everything you know about me- forget it.

    I am your friend but your enemy.

    I am what you need me to be.

    Need a friend? I’m here.

    Need a punching bag? Call me.

    For I am what I am.

    God himself, even the devil.

    Your conscience and your guilt.

    If you hit me -whether with kindness, love, hatred or score- I will turn the other cheek.

    I have no heart, no mind, no soul.

    I am not homeless, yet I own no house.

    I give nothing- I take nothing.

    If you wash your hands of me, I will gladly slither down the drain.

    I am not mental but I am not sane.

    Search for me, and I will not be found.

    Forget me, and I will haunt you.

    I am the past, the present, the future.

    I am inevitable.