Known and Un-Known

Free verse, written 3/27/09

"Ready?" Calls a voice well-known,

Though the face my eyes can't see.

The sky is wet and lined in rain,

But I only know that

Because a half-hidden lamp,

A lonely lamp, can see.

Splash.

"Take my hand!" My own voice cries.

How alive is nature at night!

One aged hand, one trusting hand,

Intertwine as we run

Past a half-hidden lamp,

A forgotten lamp, that sees.

Poem: Flooding

Written 3/23/09

Picayune matters,

Only trifles of life,

Build and build and build.

One day they shatter.

Droplets of rain

Drip and drip and drip.

I search for a ladder

As floods

Rise and rise and rise.

I fall as it clatters.

As water,

As anger,

As despair,

Drown me, drown me, drown me!

(Yes, I realize the last section is different... rrrg.)

Poem: Unnamed

Written 3/5/09

A little more abstract, so don't feel bad if you don't get it... that's just my confused self writing deeper feelings that make no sense :)

Wish for a song

Hope for the words

To rescue the lost

That wave behind you-

"So long"

Forms their lips

Wish for needle and thread,

And make me

Into a puppet

And I'll dance to the song-

"So long".

When you're lost.

Critique Welcome. Especially on this one.

Poem: Wish of a Star

Written 2/13/09

The wish of a star:

To not be afraid

Or feel how alone

They seem to be made

How I wish to comfort

That flickering light-

One bashful part

Of this beautiful night!

Ditto from below.

Poem: Sin or Storm?

Written 1/29/09

What could I have done to anger

This frighteningly alive

Mask over my sun?

Are my sins so great

That even the rain feels the need

To try to rinse me clean?

Why, even the trees whisper

Condolences, at least forgiving 

My unknown trump of nature!

I can't be this awful, I think,

Though the skies, rain, and trees

Seem to protest a differing 

Opinion.

As always, critique most welcome!

Stories: A Poem

Written 2/6/09

Just a quick little poem I wrote for fun :)

I opened my window

And heard in a dream

The still, cold air

Speak to me.

And I heard all

The tales of men,

Children, lovers,

Those that had been.

She spoke plainly,

She of the wind

Of the trucks with red

Lights 'round the bend

She wept aloud of

Horrid nights

Like these, but why

Should I be afright?

'Tis only a story,

A whistle, a sound.

And I am safe in a house

On the ground.

I closed my window

And wind turned her face.

Her back is to me,

Her vanity disgraced.

Critique welcome, though it is just a quirky little thing :)

Random Quote: Cry, the Beloved Country

I'm reading Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton for school. It's interesting, and written in a very unique style, which in my opinion gives it an extra golden star. 

But it's also very profound in its ideas. I ran across this today as I was reading it, and it really grabbed me. Well, there were actually a lot of quotes that grabbed me, but this one is my favorite:

The truth is that our civilization is not Christian; it is a tragic compound of great ideal and fearful practice, of high assurance and desperate anxiety, of loving charity and fearful clutching of possessions. Allow me a minute...

This is part of a manuscript written by a son that is being read by his father. "Allow me a minute" is the last thing the son writes before he hears a sound downstairs, goes to look, and is shot. Which, along with being extraordinarily depressing, is also interesting... What awfully beautiful last words to write.

It makes me wonder what the last words I write will be.