All of this poetry was written as classwork for my college course in Creative
Writing-Poetry. Most of it was inspired by a certain someone in my
life (Go summer '98!), or a soon to be smashed spider.
Faceless October
You say you wish you were someone else.
I think I sometimes feel that myself.
A charming, blank face in a distant crowd,
I wonder where you are wandering now.
If these cold autumn breezes drove me home,
I know my steps would trail away from you.
Drifting somewhere in this October grey,
I left when your confusion pushed me away.
I believed if I touched you, you'd somehow change--
My face is wet, but you're still the same.
I hear damp leaves giving under my feet,
Walking, I'm waiting, but beyond your reach.
Okay, this is the one with a story. One day I was sitting in poetry class.
We sit in a circle and I noticed that this little tiny spider was crawling
over the desk behind me and to the left. I watched him for a while and wrote
a few lines to him. Then he landed on Michaela's desk. And she flicked him
to his death. She says she's going to write a poem called, "Inspiration Killer."
hehe.. *sniffles* Now to the poem!
The Spider
You skitter across the false-wood desk
then perch on the egde, pondering.
Your little brown body hangs over open space
but easily swings back on silver thread.
Do you want to know about poetry too?
Earthen Hands
I cannot hold the wind in my hands
Any more than I can tell you why.
You float amid the fantastic sky.
There is nothing for me there,
And if I have to tell you agian this time
Maybe you never saw me here.
I once sat, my hands pressed in dirt,
Believing in these earthly stains.
I could never be the ethereal one
Soaring in the distant skies.
I once kneeled with my hands pressed in dirt.
I wonder if you'll see me this time.
Unspoken Words
I wrote a letter to you in wet sand.
The waves denied what I would have you know.
They swept away what you can't understand,
And secrets I would sooner not let go.
If I whispered my heart into the night skies
I'd have to pray you could not hear my speech,
For silence falls heavy and language dies--
I must not tell my secrets on this beach.
I harbored dreams that you could be my home,
That you would be the one to understand,
But your empty heart disappeared like foam.
I was left standing with an untouched hand.
As I watch the water-filled letters fade,
I slip to my knees; I'm at last unmade.
I gaze at the stars,
but you make me think of webs.
I still dream of you.
poetry |