Oh Lookhence, an Update!

Sorry for such a boring week, you guys. :P I had the best of intentions, but those often fail in the face of DUNDUNDUNAPATHY.

Here's what happened. Yes, this is IN OTHER NEWSSSS!!!

Tuesday: I went to my great-grandpa's funeral. I didn't cry until the military honor guard played taps. My grandpa served in the infantry reconstructing Japan in WWII, so he got a military funeral, which was incredibly moving and utterly AWESOME. Yes, I cried a single glistening tear at the sound of the trump (the guy was a pretty good trumpet player). Then we had our family luncheon at Wendy's and went home, because we were all wearing black and it was 94 degrees outside.

As we were getting in the car to leave the graveside service, my dad came up with a poem:

My grandpa died.
I cried a single glistening tear. 

He likes to take my poetry and turn it into a two-line poem that says basically the same thing as the full-length poem. Show-off...
So I decided to one-up him:

My grandpa died.
I cried. 

Wednesday: I had my job interview for that paid graphic design internship. I was pretty stressed out, I must admit, but I think my chances are pretty good. I'm being optimistic.

Thursday: My aunt is moving, so my sister and I drove out to help her pack boxes and such. Fun fun fun...

Friday: First, the library, then a 3-hour pool party where I let a bunch of 9-year-old boys beat me up. My shoulders are so sunburned it's not even funny, but I'm not complaining. It was a fun party!

So today, since I have so much less going on, I am finally going to put up a poem.

ALSO: For those of you who are wondering about the poetry contest, I'm going to hold off until I have more interested people. So... if you want a poetry contest, direct your poetic friends to my blog! (Yes indeed, that was indeed a shameless plug for followers).

When I end up having a poetry contest, the theme will be "Personal Histories: Your Life in Poetry." That is, unless I change it.

Today's poem is a reworked piece that EAL suggested I write. The original piece can be found here, and the style is inspired by Kevin Routh's poetry. I thought I might try writing a poem that's a little bit more... well, streamlined, I guess you could say. Less wordy.
 

Lifeblood

This
Is
My
Life
Blood
You’ve splashed ‘cross the floor,
It pools there in droplets
For us to adore.

This
Is
My
Life
Blood
I’ve splashed ‘round in ink,
I leave it to tell you
What it is I think.

The Archives: Stuff about Blood.

Once, I got a bloody nose in gym because someone hit me in the face with a volleyball. Then I ran to the bathroom and got a tissue. The next morning, I got a bloody nose again and was stuck in the bathroom at school for around an hour because it wouldn't stop bleeding. It was gross. The end.

True story.

This true story then elicited a poetic and prose-etic response, which the lovely Myself has requested I post. Well, I can't say "no" to something like that, can I? So first, here's some thinking, and then the poem, which is, appropriately, called "Bloody Nose," because I can't come up with anything better.

I think maybe people don't like the sight of blood because it's out-of-place. Blood belongs inside your body, and its presence anywhere else suggests that something has gone wrong, that you or someone else has been injured. It's something everyone has, and it's nothing to be afraid of. It's not gross or frightening; it just is.

If my writing style seems startlingly different, it would be because this was written in September of last year. I've revamped my style a lot since then.

A slap to the face,

And suddenly that which was mine comes forth,

A crimson tide,

A stain upon my flawless face;

A testament to my mortality

Falls like tears,

Like rain dripping on the ground,

My feet,

My clothes,

Marred by my imperfection.