Aren't you glad to have something consistent in your life, except when I'm not consistent?
I know I am.
EDIT as of Saturday, 28 May, 2011: I'll probably post on Saturdays as well. Yay! :D
Today's poem is an interesting piece to be certain. An assignment in creative writing was to hold hands with a person we didn't know very well from the class and stare into their eyes for five minutes. We weren't to speak, look away, or let go of each other until the five minutes were up. Then we had to write a poem or prose piece about our experience.
I chose to "commune" with Ashley, a quiet girl (but an excellent writer). It felt odd at first, but eventually it became more comfortable and I was able to just think: what is she thinking about? What lies behind her eyes? And what is she seeing in me?
I sent in the resulting poem to a poetry contest a few months ago, and it is being published in a who's who sort of book. I'm not about to shell out $26 for a book with my name in it. The whole reason I entered was to get extra credit, anyways. But I'm in the running to win an actual prize, so I'm not complaining.
This is "Hazel."
Is it all right if we share?
Let’s take turns and chip away at the Walls we’ve built
Until we have nothing but ourselves,
But everything at once.
I never asked for anything before, so
Do you mind if I ask,
Where is your direction?
So someone can hold me through coming Disaster.
You’ve shown me flecks of gold, copper, bronze,
Rich soil rings around my reflection.
Let’s plant a garden in your eyes
And dandelions to choke out the Worry seeds.
Did you see my Ocean?
(Once there were forests filled with flames)
Please, come be lost with me. I feel so c o l d.
Let’s take turns and chip away at the Walls we’ve built
Until we have nothing but ourselves,
But everything at once.
I never asked for anything before, so
Do you mind if I ask,
Where is your direction?
(Are you wandering like I do? Are you lost as I am?)
Let us be lost togetherSo someone can hold me through coming Disaster.
You’ve shown me flecks of gold, copper, bronze,
Rich soil rings around my reflection.
Let’s plant a garden in your eyes
And dandelions to choke out the Worry seeds.
Did you see my Ocean?
(It laps against my shivering soul)
Did you see the Embers?(I Burned my heart for the sake of winter heat)
Did you see the Gardens rent with longing?(Once there were forests filled with flames)
Please, come be lost with me. I feel so c o l d.
6 Poetry Snaps:
"Let's plant a garden in your eyes."
Love that line. I hope you get the prize - this poem certainly deserves some recognition.
Oh, thank you!
I hope so, too.
Maybe the prize will be sending me a free copy of that stupid book of stupidness.
26 dollars... what a rip.
The thing that I love about reading and writing is that authors tend to speakfrom their heart. It is very unlikely that, within prose or poetry, an author should lie (Lest it be a lie told to themselves for comfort). I love this because I enjoy reading people- figuring out what makes them tick, what they have been through, and what their emotions are. Other than being directly in front of the person like you were, literature best enables me to do this.
I'd like to tell you what "Hazel" says about you sometime.
This is very true. My poetry speaks volumes about myself. There is so much I keep inside of myself so I can be a good, happy, enjoyable person to be around. I'm not nearly as depressed as my poetry makes me out to be; most people are shocked to find I can write things like I do.
I'd like to hear it sometime. Sooner rather than later, too. ;D
Message me! Your personality and history isn't something to be discussed in a comment box ;)
Alright, you've intrigued me...
*sends message*
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