Of Universe

Double post! Turns out people actually read this blog, which made me feel extra guilty about not posting in....4 months. So, here you go. It's called "Universe."


I can reach the stars
Like silk, like water, river
Universe rippling through, around
Twist around
Fingers scrape around
Brushing Neptune, Sun, farther galaxies
Twist around through me
Like a breath of fresh air
Locked in that fantastical chest for so long
Air sprinkled with stars
Breath it in
Feel rush by rush
Little bits of shivering hope
Dust dust flying
Each bit a tiny fleck, speck
Feel
Universe
I can reach it
Reach the stars
And so much more

Of Formed Poetry

Alright, I showed this one to a few people at school, but regardless, here it is! Anyone in the area should come see me read this aloud at the VMFA Teen Talent event on May 26th at 7 pm. See, now you know about it, you HAVE to come! :) Enjoy this poem.


Why does poetry always have to be so formatic?
Opening with a question, to probe the mind
Before delving further, deeper into it?
A second question, to cover more
Is asked at this time.
Do we make the format, or are we following others?
Then elaborating more
A metaphor, or maybe two
I am the unquestionable teacher
This is the format
You follow or fail
No questions asked
And if you go back far enough you’ll see
Everything was written in iambic
Like Shakespeare did, it sounds so wonderful
To imitate such a creative style
And don't forget a rhyme or two
Make it sing-songy, something old or new
Even go triple lines, wahoo!
...and I can’t think of a rhyme. Oh, boo.
And then short lines
To emphasize a single
Point
Like a triangle
Rigid in its formation
And now we wrap it up
Begin the line with "and"
Restate the opening phrase
And
Answer the question with one of your own
Here we go
For who says poetry must be formatic?
I certainly don't.

Of Winter

Winter is like our sorrows
Its cold biting air forces us inside
Deeper and deeper
Til we can't run no more
We must make a protection for ourselves
Bundle up in layers and layers
Before we can trek out in the snow
Sometimes after a heavy snowfall
We must pick up a shovel
And endure the toil that it takes to shovel our path free
Sometimes it falls thinly and quickly
Then freezes overnight, turning what used to be roads
Into strips of glass, impossible for travel
And sometimes it falls ever so lightly
That we can run outside in gossamer clothes
Shoes half thrown on
Throw our heads back and laugh
And taste the tiny specks of snow
That give us so much joy to catch
I love winter
And for all its troubles
I wouldn't miss it for the world

Hawk

Haughty and proud
A steely eye sweeping the sky that
Winks occasionally to assure that he is still
King

Of Inspiration

I lost my inspiration
To reach it I have to plunge my hand
Deep into the darkness that
Threatens to consume me
And eat up my soul
But I reach
Stretching farther than I thought
I grab it, and there's
Light in me
And the words flow here
Inspiration isn't gone
It's simply out of reach, that's all

Of Spontaneousness

I feel like writing a spontaneous poem right now, so I will. Something I said earlier to my friend Kevin in FIRC about windows will serve as a basis. Who knows where it will end up? No editing. Rough me, splattered out into a poem. Here we go!

I love windows.
I hate windows.
I don't feel trapped when that light shines through
Little squares of sunshine
Brightening up the dreariness of the mind
Seeing all the buildings, people cars
I feel I can melt
Melt through the window
Become part of the world
I look through the window
I feel trapped
When I see the world
So much life
So much potential
And I'm like a bird in a cage
Where are they going?
I want to find out
These bars of glass
Can't keep me here
Can keep me here
I want to jump
To go
Reach out
Words stronger than steel hold me back
In the back of my mind
Like a flickering candle
I know the rules
So I turn away from the window
And grasp onto that sunlight
That is my only connection
To the outside world

....ok. Cool. That didn't turn out so horrible....but then again I haven't read it yet! Comment, por favor. I'd like to know how cool/amazing/moving/suckish my poem was. Appreciated!

Of Train

I took a trip to DC the other day as an end-of-summer activity and went via train. Sitting in the snack car, peacefully, just me and some hipster doing a crossword (who has his own story), I was inspired. It was a great experience. Thus I present my poem about the train, aptly titled, "Train."

Colors blur blur
Rush
I can feel it even though I can't
In a capsule
Tiny metal box
Hurdling through space
Clinging to metal lines
Or else be lost
Lost in space
Shudders
As it flies through towns, hills, countrysides
Not wanting to linger
Just wanting to go
Push on forward
Not content in one place
It reaches, then it
Moves on
Shudder, shudder
Bang from side to side
Rush by the world
Bringing us with it