Moonchild Manifesto by Valerie Parente
You are a Moonchild.
You embody moods like phases in orbital rotations.
Every moving body comes in cycles
around a world you set your mind to.
That’s when the words begin to flow
like the tides under your gravitational pull.
You fall and you feel and you break,
wondering how others could be so unfazed.
Because you are in love night and day
while the rest are just lost in space.
– Valerie Parente (2-23-2021)
These Laurels Were Not Meant To Rest by Valerie Parente
Imagine, imagine, imagine.
When the world is mundane
I give it my passion
another artistic era
to rise from the ashes.
Create, create, create.
People say I should be satisfied
but I need to formulate
an endless stream of words
from this mental landscape.
Another rhyme, another day,
another opportunity for artistic display.
These laurels were not meant to rest,
in this garden I’ll always progress,
so ever-evolving, so evergreen,
like the creativity that lives within me.
– Valerie Parente (2-26-2021)
Like Fine China Analysis
I wrote this poem, “Like Fine China“, without fully understanding what my subconscious was trying to tell me. After reading it a couple of times I realized the meaning behind the words. Fine China is the symbol for making art (something beautiful) out of sadness. The sadness is a constant cycle that manifests itself like patterns on fine China, royal “blue” (sad) details that I’ve etched upon the surface (my writing). When I have days that I break down, the porcelain breaks down, and I could use the jagged pieces of sadness to hurt myself but instead I choose to use them to build a display out of the broken pieces in the form of a porcelain vase (art from my mental breakdown) and there I show off pretty flowers (rhymes through poetry). The problem that arises from creating art out of sadness, sometimes sadness that a 3rd party might see as “old news”, is that these emotions I’ve recited are as good as dead to the world, hence why the flowers in the fine China vase I’ve built are decaying. The wonder in this, though, is that those decaying flowers offer me, the writer, solace. The cycle of sadness and creativity continues as the decaying flowers become a beautiful floral tea that I turn to for comfort as a grieve the ongoing pain I’m still in. Other people don’t see the benefit of the flowers (writing about perpetual pain), but I do. The entire process from fine china to a floral tea is cathartic, as is the artistic process, and in the end I feel okay and like I can survive my own mental state. Alas, a new day comes, the sadness inevitably returns as I am overwhelmed with reminders from the real world, and the pretty pain goes back to being “too pretty to comprehend” (commentary on not fully understanding what I was writing in the poem itself “Like Fine China”). Thus the entire breaking down of fine china (delving into an artistic outlet) occurs again.
Isn’t it incredible how art can be completely mindless but reveal something so profound in the mind it spawns from?
– Valerie Parente (10-6-2020)
Like Fine China by Valerie Parente
How can one be so strong and indestructible
yet appear like fine china, so fragile.
Royal blue details drawn on clay
art on top of an artistic display.
Breaking as I break down
a million pieces so jagged and profound.
I could use them to separate my skin
instead I made a vase out of porcelain.
I filled the china like a beautiful bouquet
with flowers that had already decayed
and everybody calls me a sick freak
because I can still see their beauty
but it’s them who fail to see
that dead flowers make great tea
and I’ll sip it as I grieve
remembering how it felt to be
like fine china, too pretty to comprehend
until they break me down again.
– Valerie Parente (10-5-2020)
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