Two pictures of the backyard

This is from my work with juxtaposition and is loosely based off a poem called "Two pictures of my sister."

A flutter of activity as the blur
of a little black and white dog races
across the green grass.
People recline n the deck,
chattering about the summer days
as the sun begins to set.
Children swept high into the sky
by the clank of the old metal swing set.

Burnt grass with patches of dirt
as the hum of the empty pool
swallows the air.
Chairs pulled in as the rusty leaves
drift from the trees above.
A simple cross graces the spot
where the dog lays at rest.
Chairs gone, voices silent.
A mask of quiet fog drips
over the yard as the old gate
bumps into its hinges
as the gentle breeze settles.
Summer has been forgotten.

Mother Mother

Mother mother, you rang me on the phone, asking if I was ok.
But what you never noticed, was how I lied,
the mask I threw on, to throw you off,
to get a chance to breathe, to set free my wings.

Mother mother, why do you keep me in chains?
You hold me tight, a little bird struggling in the nest.
You said the world would hurt me, but I can handle it just fine.
I'm not scared of the dark or the bugs that crawl the streets at night.

Mother mother, let me go, let the world do what it will.
I plead with you, listen to the voice on the phone.
Let the boys kiss, let the fire reign,
just let me go.

Sometimes I Feel the Night- revised

This poem started originally as Sometimes I Feel Pretty. Now, it's totally different and more focused with a more extended image.

Sometimes I Feel the Night

Sometimes, I still stare up at the sky

and bring myself back to that place on the swings,

where I believed magic could happen.

Those stars gazed down at me,

left alone when they hid behind the clouds,

but I knew, deep inside, that they always sit there,

twinkling in the moonlight.

Sometimes, I know I’m content,

realizing that the moon basks me with its light,

keeps me safe and blankets me with white golden fleece

as I swing up and down, high and low at midnight.

It deepens my mind with those sparkling stars

planting a seed of wonder.

Sometimes, I look at the world,

seeing the smallest joys and biggest blunders,

swinging in circles, twisting the chains.

No matter how fast I swing,

I can always take a leap of faith,

feet flying into the air,

finally settling on solid ground.

Am I Invisible?- seriously revised

This poem practically does not look the same as it originally did and I think, it serves its purpose a lot better now.

Am I Invisible?

an ant in the grass, a cloud in the sky?

Do I blend into the background,

a chameleon lost on a branch?

a used car with 100,000 miles, a rented textbook?

Am I an object to pass around,

a broken chair tossed onto the road?

an old rusted penny, a nail dropped from a table?

Am I here to be stepped on and forgotten,

an unraveling rug sitting in the basement?

a key on a chain heavy with silver, a dropped diamond?

Have I been lost in the sea of people,

a two of spades in a deck of ripped cards?

a bright red raincoat, a polka dotted purse.

I refuse to be invisible,

the siren from an ambulance.

Matthew

This is an example of extended simile for my brother in which I compare him to a Sega Genesis console.

The old boxed Sega Genesis,

Sitting in the cabinet, saving dust.

Once found, plugged in,

Off like a Lambo in Gran Turismo,

Speeding off while slurring witty lines

To mock the other drivers.

Cartridge switch, off to Brawl.

Fighting tooth and nail, fierce and fast.

Victory as the sparks race across the screen.

Final punch. Opponent gone.

But there sits Echo in the corner,

Watching over the ocean, signaling for the safety of others.

Laying silent, observing, until the shark comes.

Unplugged. No sound until next time someone stumbles

On the cord.  

Song of the day: This is how it feels by The Veronicas

This is how it feels to have the ground shake

This is how it feels when the ground shakes
beneath your feet, dropping off, disappearing.
That person you thought the world of,
just screwed you over and left you lying
in the dust. But that face in the crowd
those dark eyes, the enchanting smile
is more good than bad,
less strange and more kin. For once,
the world is not in your hands.
You do not toss the earth from hand
to hand, wishing for the clouds.
This is how it feels when the tornado strikes
into your heart and leaves unsettled
trees flipped and home destroyed.
Pick yourself up and build a new home,
dig new roots, look up towards the heavens
and know, just know,
this is how it feels.

i let my mind wander
into a wonderland of dream
but i shake myself out
for it is only a fog
and all a mirage.

Why my poetry is scaring me

I use words and poetry in ways of therapy. Much like musicians use their music or painters use canvas and paint. What I've been writing recently is frightening me. When I have to take a step back and think, "I can't put Unappreciated up for workshop on Monday because my classmates and professors are going to think I need counseling help" I get scared. I get scared because since I use poetry as therapy, it usually has something to do with feelings I haven't figured out yet or things that haven't come to the surface.

In the last few, they've been depressing. Lost love. No love. No backbone. No support. There is no happy poems. Maybe I've just been stressed recently. Maybe recently I haven't been feeling like my friends actually care. Maybe as a writer and as a person, I'm just in a funk. I go through the day with a fake smile. True feelings are shoved underneath the surface and disappear from sight.

I want to be out of this funk. I don't like it. I don't like feeling like I have no one. I need to get over this, but I don't know how. I want to live. I want to be bright again and shine like the ball of fire I usually am. I need something good in my life to happen. And now.

Unappreciated

I have to sit and wonder
why sometimes I try.
Why try make the sun shine
when it disappears into the horizon
and hides behind the clouds?
Why let the rain batter down on the grass
when it only turns to mud?
It is time to sit in solitude,
away from the sun and the grass,
let the night sweep me away
into the darkness and melt
the stars. Depression that seeks
only the brightness of the moonlight.
Cower in a corner, crouch behind a bush,
not trying, not searching,

quiet.

Am I Invisible? -Feelings on the first day of workshop

This afternoon, Am I Invisible? was presented to my classmates for a workshop. Overall, I received positive, consistent feedback. Immediately, everyone recognized the topic of the poem being a love that is not returned. They agreed that it was a universal topic that many people could understand.

While they all enjoyed the similes and metaphors, they agreed that I could flesh out the images a bit more and provide more detail. To really get into the images and explain them.

The other really good advice was about the ending. Mostly the issue about how it doesn't really wrap up. There's no answer to all the questions. I completely agreed with this viewpoint and definitely need to figure that out.

Overall, I was so pleased with the workshop and I'm surprised that this poem is taking me so far. It was such a spontaneous poem and having it end up becoming successful without me trying too much is very satisfying.

Classwork- Sept. 12- Lyrical diction

This is a poem using lyrical diction written for class. It is about a violent event.

Wrestle

A dance took over the stage,
tiptoeing around one around,
watching with glazed eyes
for the movement about to begin.

The music sweeps the floor
as shoes float across the room.
Arms tango, feet waltz.
Muscles contracting, moving to the beat
of a single drum at sunset.

The stage shakes gently,
waving under the patterned steps.
A dip flows gracefully onto the ground
as the dancers compete with their song.
Heartbeats quicken, steps more intricate
reveal themselves. And as the dance
comes to a close,
no clear winner has won
the rose.

Classwork- Sept. 12- Conversational diction

This is a conversational diction poem that it about a past memory of love in life written strictly for class.

Why are you such an idiot? Are you another Charlie Sheen?
I have been here, waiting
for your sorry self to come around. You won't get
a love like this. No roses. No picnics. No honesty.
I'm all you have. You aren't Ashton Kutcher
or Ryan Gosling. Get off our high horse
and see me for who I am.
Love me for all I try to be.
Wake up from your zombie trance
Force yourself out of the darkness and open the door.
I only wanted to love you.
For once in your life, accept something.
But I am the idiot.
Because I am waiting around.
I am the crazy chick in the romcom,
Jane loving George,
who keeps a place in her heart,
for someone who does deserve it.

I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier

You look at me now, see nothing.
See a small person being hid in the crowd.
Maybe I blend.
Maybe I'm not really here.
But I've got the soul
to speak my mind.
I've got the spark
that will make me bright.
I've got the heart
to destroy the hatred.
Hate on me if you must.
Pass me by and brush me off.
But what you'll find
maybe in a few years
is that I've got it.
I've got the magic.
I've got the determination
to make it in this world.
And you'll sit, soldier.
Wondering what went wrong.
Wondering how I was so small.
And how I took the world by storm.

Am I Invisible?- Reposted

I am reposting this poem because it is due to be workshopped on Wednesday, Sept. 14 in class.

Other people can see me
so I know I'm not invisible,
but yet why can't you?

Why do you glaze over me,
like I'm just an ant in the grass
or a cloud in the sky?

Do I blend into the background,
almost as in full camouflage,
a chameleon lost on a branch?

Am I not spirited enough for you,
do I not smile and glow,
or have a big enough heart?

Is it because you're better than me,
do I have too many flaws,
like the dents in an old car?

Am I just an object, a toy,
to pass around and never accept,
like a broken chair tossed from sale to sale?

One day I hope you'll see,
and lift the invisibility cloak from your eyes.
I just hope it's not too late.

That Dance

It doesn't take much
when that beat hits.
Just gotta get up
and move like there
is no tomorrow.

That magic I'm learning
and how enchanting it is.
You may think you're bad
but all it takes
is that beat.

Those eyes meet
bodies connect
just having fun,
moving,
with the infectious sound.

Dance.
Dance like no one is watching.
Dance.
Dane and let go.

Moves Like Jagger

?Just shoot for the stars/ If it feels right/ And aim for my heart/ If you feel like/ Can take me away and make it OK/ I swear I'll behave...Baby it's hard/ When you feel like you're broken and scarred/ Nothing feels right/ But when you're with me/ I make you believe/ That I've got the key/ So get in the car/ We can ride it/ Wherever you want/ Get inside it/ And you want to steer/ But I'm shifting gears/ I'll take it from here..."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=suRsxpoAc5w

In just a breathe of time

In just a breathe of time, one sees the world unfold and
the truth spill like the dust from an hourglass.
It only takes a second for the bird to watch
its fancy fly away with another.
A minute for emotions and feelings to settle into a heart.
An hour goes by before everything is realized.
But before the hourglass is drained,
the compass points due north,
and while the sun sets over the horizon,
one sees the world fold.

Memories of Old

I knew exactly where to turn
onto my little street by the brook
as I watched the children pedal
on by sitting on bright colored bikes
and gazed aloof at the sky
when red balloons took to the clouds.

I could hear the flood creak
when I crept in just after curfew
and as my father waited in his chair,
an admiral sergeant watching his platoon,
as I was slapped down with a grounding.

I remember the goodbye
as I played human Tetris with the car,
stuffing each nook and cranny with books
and sheets and everything obviously necessary
for a first year at college.