poetry is my mistress

I'm just going to let you guys know that since the beginning of my poetry class this semester, I have gotten immensely better at writing poems. This is exactly what I wanted to happen and I'm so glad I'm taking this class. Every time I think about writing, it just flows. I get one idea and it explodes into a beautifully crafted work of art that I just can't help but smile when I read.

Yes, I'm praising my own work. You should all be used to my conceitedness by now. I am quite fabulous. Many of you may not feel the wondrous glory and magnificence that emanates from my work but you're missing out! (Plus most of the work I've posted has been pure craptatiousness, with the exception of a few poems.)

But I've really fallen in love with the new works I've been producing this semester and I'm really excited to share it here. So stay tuned for more of my poetic genius!

battle in the sky

Look closely and you’ll see they move

Crawling across with no destination

The sky is tired and yearns to be released

But constant showers give it no relief

Those thick clouds wrap around the sky

Clinging for control

A continuous battle:

Cloud against sky with cloud in the lead

Hateful and lustful and wanting it all

For if only it would bear its soul

If only it would open up and pour out

Then cloud would move on and sky would be free

I see it happening

Out there in the distance

A small glimpse of sky’s beautiful form

Peeking through holes in cloud’s armor

Then sun, and sky and cloud

Would dance together

Sharing secrets and crying tears

Always open to each other’s reign

something about mornings

I walked outside and turned the corner onto the strip of road that runs behind my house. It was a bright early morning but the cold of night hadn't quite left the air yet.

I walked slowly in the middle of the street, breathing in the crisp air and enjoying the cold on my skin. I love early mornings in the fall. Sunny and cold. It's a perfect combination.

Cars drove by on my right and I cleared the street for those in front of me. The sound of leaves swooshed in front of me as each car passed by.

I tightened my coat around me. It was a long walk, but I was enjoying it. The street was silent apart from the sound of cars. The air felt empty and I felt calm.

I thought about the times I used to run along this road and smiled. As much as I hated running, I actually felt good after each run.

I thought about the way the trees looked alive with so many colors. I used to hate the color changing leaves, but in this morning, they looked magical.

I thought about the day that was beginning and the events I was about to live through. I wouldn't be able to survive another day unless I started it out with something beautiful.

Nature has a way of erasing all the bad. Or at least making you forget about it for the time being. Something about those leaves, the cold, the quiet.

Mornings have never been more perfect. I could hear the city waking up. More cars on the road as the street became louder.

Every scent, breeze, and sound could be felt as I walked the street. That small strip of road that runs behind my house.

At the end of the street I turned around and started my walk back home. Returning to the chaos of my life but hoping for the quiet of my soul.

If only the entire day could be as glorious as that early morning. If only I could live like that moment was forever.

If I could just breathe in those scents, those sounds, and that ambiance. Everything that makes life full, right there on that small strip of road that runs behind my house.

there's always room for improvement

I don't know how I do it, but somehow I got every professor to waive the pre-reqs for me to take their classes. I haven't been so excited for a semester to come since freshman year of college.

Next semester I'm taking a sociology course (my first), a poetry class (perfect, as long as it does get full before I can register), some stupid science class (that's what I get for putting it off), and a clinical law class. Ok so it doesn't sound so exciting after writing it all out... but if I ignore every class except poetry, then I'm hella excited!

By now we should all be well aware of how much I love poetry, and how much I suck at it. But I've been writing for a long time so I'm pretty excited to actually take a class that can teach me how to write better.


The professor asked my why I wanted to take poetry and I responded with my usual reply of "I have a passion for language and art..." and then continued to explain like I always do people when they ask me why I like poetry or advertising. He of course understood and said he hoped to I would learn to think of language itself as art. I would have replied that I already do, but he had let me in the class so I decided to stop emailing him. Don't want to annoy the professor with too many emails so early.

I will be posting more poetry on my blog since I checked and realized I only have 6 posts about poetry (7 if you count this one) so far. Perhaps you can all watch me get better and see my writing change.

it's over

I never had someone that loves me
I never felt like I was there
Didn’t know who I could follow
Couldn’t wait for you to care

I hated being alone every day
I knew I had to make a move
I don’t want to wait forever
But I just can’t be with you

Do you remember all the times we spent together?
All the laughs and the fun we used to have?
Wasn’t long ago, it was us together
Spending days and our lives intertwined

But now I remember that was all a dream
We’ve fallen out of sync
One by one we’ve let go
One by one we’ve said no

I may be bitter, I may even be angry
But I’ve seen what happens when I try
No matter how much love I send your way
We’ve become less important in your eyes

Don’t tell me it’s not true
I’m honestly done believing you

it just makes me feel good

I was strolling through the library book cases today and I found myself in the mist of books on poetry. How delightful! For about a half hour I stood there reading through poem after poem. I’ve forgotten how much I love poetry. Finding those books sparked the poetic soul in me again and I’m really excited about that.



I remember lying on the floor in my old house right in front of the window. During the summer, the sun would shine directly into the room and create a warm circle on the carpet. I used to curl up on that spot and read poetry books until I fell asleep. I think those were some of the best days of my life. Pure calm and happiness.

I’ve talked a lot about how much it I love writing and everything it means to me. I’ve been trying to write a poem for the longest time and I kept hitting a wall. But after reading those poems today, I feel like the veil has been lifted.

I mean most of my writing is still crap but every once in a while I write a sentence or a paragraph that I love. I’m collecting all of those pieces together. I’d love to write a poetry book. But for now I just want to fill a journal with my poems. I started writing one today. I really love it. I may put it up here in the future, but for now I just love the excitement of loving poetry again.

language

I've been reading a lot of different styles of poetry lately and I love the way poets use language. It was my love for language that made want to major in business and get into advertisement. Now that I have all the time in the world (because let's face it, I have no life) I find myself doing a shitload of thinking and self reflection, contemplation, call it what you must. But I've just been thinking about language and this blog and how much I want to put into it but can't because I can't find the words, or the right words to express it.



Being able to manipulate language and use it to persuade, or convince or explain anything is a powerful tool. Language is something people underestimate all the time. But people are brainwashed by the power of words everyday. People are emotionally bound by their promises. We get in fights over "he said, she said" all the time. Imagine the simple phrase "I love you," and all the drama it can start (or end). It's the words and what they convey to people. It's the language and the way we use it that makes its so powerful.

It's the reason I love it so much. That I would spend hours studying it and reading other people's words. It's the reason why language means so much to me and why a simple song or poem can make me cry. I get struck by the beauty in language everyday.

I've chosen my passion, and I want to be able to manipulate language in that same way. I want to more imagery, more emotion; I want a clear vision of what I am to come across in my words. I want a story, as vague and as detailed as it needs to be to define me. I want me and myself to be in those words and to come out with every word that you read. I want to be able to evoke every emotion. I want to show you what it's like inside a crazy.

fight for me

I want you to fight for me.
Don’t give up on me just because it’s hard to get through the first layer.
These layers were built to protect what’s inside,
To protect from emotions held too hard.
Year after year I’ve built layer upon layer,
Upon layer upon layer
Of caution, suspicion, and doubt.
There’s not a person on earth that I trust with my feelings.
But I want to trust you.
I want you to care enough to fight me back.
Fight to know what I really think.
Fight to know how I really feel.
Fight to know me,
The real me and everything underneath.
I want someone real.
Someone who doesn’t mind getting a little dirty,
Who doesn’t mind if I get mad and yell.
I want you to yell back
Don’t hold back.
I’m not fragile, I’m not even sheltered.
I just need a little reassurance.
Reassurance that you care,
That you won’t be bothered by digging a little deeper.
I want you to find me fascinating.
Charming, alluring, mesmerizing.
A mystery you want to solve.
A conundrum, a riddle, an amazing little puzzle.
But don’t get bored.
Oh please don’t be bored.
It’s a delicate balance, I know.
I’m sorry it’s so hard.
But I’m willing to change, if you’re willing to push.

yea, that's delicious

I’ve always wanted to be delicious.
To feel delicious.
Someone highly pleasing to the senses.
Yea, that’s delicious

It even sounds like a delicious word
Every time I think of it, I want to eat it
To crunch on it and feel its juices slide down my chin
Yea, that’s delicious

Have you ever met a delicious person?
Someone you just had to be around?
Who made your entire life sweet?
Who made every day just seem better?

Well I haven’t.
But I’d love to be that person for someone else

Imagine being delicious…
Imagine the glory and fabulousness of knowing you just sweetened someone’s day…
Imagine that feeling…
Yea, that’s delicious

But there are other kinds of feeling delicious too
Just feeling good about yourself
Being self content in all things you
Looking in the mirror and loving everything you see
And everything you don’t see
Believing in yourself
Yea, that’s delicious

Have you ever met a delicious person?
Someone who always seemed happy?
Who never let anything get to them because they were just too fabulous to care?
Who never allowed someone else to justify their existence?

Well I have.
And damn, I’m jealous!
But I’d love to be that person for myself

And I plan on being delicious
Highly pleasing to the senses
Yea, that’s delicious

for a split second, imma open up

I thought maybe today I'd give you guys a glimpse into my mind. 

I write a lot of poetry. In my junior year of high school, I took a creative writing class. The teacher was one of the best teachers I've ever had as a student. I loved that class, and ever since then I've done a lot of writing: poetry, short stories, diary entries and such. Writing is one way I've been able to say what I'm too afraid to say out loud. The thoughts that I wouldn't dare let out because of a fear of criticism...or just a fear that I would see myself and not like who I was. So I write it out and I never have to live out those things. Writing it and putting it away, that's how I deal with most of the really personal things in my life. I guess that could be a reason why no one really knows who I truly am; I don't let them. Because I can't let them. 

After years of holding everything in, with the exception of writing of course, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that no one knows that part of me. So I guess maybe it’s time I learn to change that. I mean if I’m going to complain about it, then I might as well do something about it too…baby steps….

So here’s a poem I wrote a while ago while I was in a semi relationship. I say semi relationship because it wasn’t really a real relationship. We had already dated and broke up and we were just kinda hangin out to see if maybe we wanted to get back together. I think I was holding on to a memory of something I really liked, but could never get back. And once I realized it, I let go.

I’ll be there you say

So I wait

I keep waiting and I’m still waiting

But how long until I let go?

How long is too long?

How long till it just becomes sad?

I think I’ve hit that point

All I am now is sad

Depressed

Anxious

Fearful

Isolated

Isolation?

Maybe that’s what I’ve needed all along

Perhaps if I disappear,

My reappearance will be all that more special

Maybe if I’m gone,

You’ll need me, maybe you’ll miss me

Or maybe you won’t notice,

Maybe you’ve already moved on

So far on that I can’t even catch up.

Yeah, I think that’s it

I’m laughing now as I read this over because I feel mostly foolish for the little mistakes I made in that part of my life. I spent so much time trying to become someone else for someone else, when I should have just been me the whole time. If I can’t even be myself in a relationship then obviously I shouldn’t be in that relationship. Thinking back to that time makes my stomach turn. It’s embarrassing being in that place. Wanting so badly to become the person you want me to be…losing myself in the process…so I disappeared. And would you know it, he noticed…too little too late…