Sunday, November 6, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Waiting
You wouldn't realize it, but you spend most of your time waiting.
Waiting in line.
Waiting for an answer.
Waiting at a stop light.
Waiting for what, though.
All this waiting is just little stalls-pausing as you get closer
and closer to death.
Without waiting, would you enjoy life,
or would it just breeze by, like a simple
summers gust?
Waiting in line.
Waiting for an answer.
Waiting at a stop light.
Waiting for what, though.
All this waiting is just little stalls-pausing as you get closer
and closer to death.
Without waiting, would you enjoy life,
or would it just breeze by, like a simple
summers gust?
Oneword.com - "downpour"
Rain. It's funny how one little change in the weather can change your whole mood. Suddenly, as the sky turns grey, a downpour of emotions floods your brain.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Poem Imitation 2
The Invention of Heaven - Dean Young
The mind becomes a field of snow
but then the snow melts and dandelions
blink on and you can walk through them,
your trousers plastered with dew.
They're all waiting for you but first
here's a booth where you can win
a peacock feather for bursting a balloon,
a man in huge stripes shouting about
a boy who is half swan, the biggest
pig in the world. Then you will pass
tractors pulling other tractors,
trees snagged with bright wrappers
and then you will come to a river
and then you will wash your face.
Devon Lawrence
The mind becomes a thirsty plant
but then the water pours and the leafs
rise up and you can harvest,
stronger like never before.
Plants take their time but first,
depend on you to better themselves,
stand alone for they want to be strong,
a quiet voice inside shouting about
giving up, and how it's the only
option they have left. Then you will pass
giving up, and how it's the only
option they have left. Then you will pass
that voice and hear a louder one,
telling you to get up each time you're knocked down
telling you to get up each time you're knocked down
and then you will get caught in the rain
and then you will find your way to keep going.
and then you will find your way to keep going.
Poem Imitation 1
Ellen Hopkins
You are like rain, forecasted
to quench a summer's thirsting,
thirst grown beyond easy need, to life or death.
I watch the clouds,
approaching windward mountains, slate
bruising black beneath expectation.
The western window
darkens as, laden, the curtain falls,
descends to veil peaks and rifts, draws nearer.
Is it thunder that I hear?
Or is the sudden rumble but the flurry
of hurried birds, on wing against unceasing drought?
One warm, wet spatter
stings the dust, stamps its ragged mark,
stings the dust, stamps its ragged mark,
imprints a welt of hope upon the arid parchment.
Promise sizzles in the air,
wrapped in threats of ozone, electric
wrapped in threats of ozone, electric
with desire so bold it borders ecstasy.
Claim this vacant sky.
Cast your shadow, speak to me in thunder,
throb against thirsting skin and flesh gone fallow.
Oh, give me rain!
Gift me with downpour, fill this empty well,
Cast your shadow, speak to me in thunder,
throb against thirsting skin and flesh gone fallow.
Oh, give me rain!
Gift me with downpour, fill this empty well,
the reservoir drained to grit by lingering dry spell.
___________________________
Devon Lawrence
You are like a dandelion seed, blowing
away from it's home, getting lost
within the sky, and the woods.
I watch the trees,
swaying back and forth, jade
swaying back and forth, jade
hiding the layers behind the facade.
The glowing light
darkens as, nearly charged, the bulb dies,
darkens as, nearly charged, the bulb dies,
becomes an empty, shadowy room.
Is that disappointment I hear?
Or is the sudden silence but the distance
unfolding into a manifest of lost time.
Or is the sudden silence but the distance
unfolding into a manifest of lost time.
One cold, vague laugh
salts the wounds, digging deep,
additional growth for the ever occurring scars.
Bonds sizzle in the air,
taking lost memories
with a thirst so dry it can't be satisfied.
Claim this deserted soil.
Remains of what used to be, what could have been
poke their way out of this empty body.
Oh, give me nourishment!
Award me with donations
Award me with donations
My body drained to the core.
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