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Poetry Corner

I didn't see a thread like this here... thought it might be nice to have one! Written anything lately that you'd like to share? My latest...

The Big Cross-Country

Funny how the landscape changes so slowly
you don’t really see.
One instant you’re driving through the delta,
flat and hot and familiar as your mother’s voice,
then dashed white lines stream past awhile
and you look up to find windmills
flailing arms like clumsy giants,
corn long-tasseled like a thousand Rapunzels
on vast swooping swells of well-turned earth,
suddenly knowing you're far from home.

The road takes so much of your attention
it's hard to notice each new change around you,
the occasional oak or cedar, the new colors
of tiny bright flowers whose names you don't know,
slowly growing in number until the corn that came before
is but a memory. Now kudzu creeps over the trees,
making shapes like clouds (look mom-- a giraffe,
no a dragon!) and the highway turns and stretches,
flowing over foothills, so different from the roads
you've left behind. And there's construction traffic,
barrels striped like prison clothes,
then a storm that turns your knuckles white on the wheel,
sends your mind running to long-forgotten gods
with prayers for safe passage,
and by the time you've come through it you're well and truly
in the mountains. Jutting stone and
mist like smoke and every glance out the window
a study in dark beauty,
awesome in its enormity.

It isn't that you don't know the changes will come --
of course they will, they must --
mountain isn't desert isn't sea.
Yet still it surprises you
when suddenly the road is flat again,
land empty of all but sagebrush
from one horizon to the next, desolate.
Sometimes it's hard not to miss the prettier roads,
the lovely corn, the ooh! ah! mountains.
The sandy ground burns your feet at the rest stop,
land barren all around.
You know the sea is worth the drive, though,
and you've come too far to turn back
so you get back in and keep going, legs stuck to the seat
and a/c on high and hoping you can make it the rest of the way,
wondering if you were wrong to take this route
after all.

Again as always it creeps up on you,
sagebrush slowly giving way
to stately pine processionals, standing at attention in sandy soil
to make way for your passage, salt in the breeze, and soon
gulls crying their welcome, crashing surf making you laugh
with surprise and delight as you catch that first glimpse through the dunes.
Tumbling eagerly onto the beach from the hot car,
towel in hand and wind in hair,
you stand for a moment suddenly overcome,
so glad you made the trip,
humbled and amazed by the vast
and beautiful sea.

Done traveling,
now we stroll green grounds,
among the stately stonework
and cobblestone paths,
so welcoming to busy squirrels and bright-winged fledgelings.
Many trips up many stairs with many boxes,
then the whirlwind as expected:
relocation registration convocation
and it's time to say goodbye.
I hug you once
twice
"I proud of you!" I say
then walk away across a campus blurred,
landscape forever changed.

--(hcm)

I just wanted to take a moment and say that I like what you've written. I'm too awkward/shy to share my poetry so I'll just read yours again and maybe others will post.

-Josh

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Thanks josh!

Food for thought: shyness hates art, and wants to punch it in the nose... fight back! post poems.

;)

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Thanks josh!

Food for thought: shyness hates art, and wants to punch it in the nose... fight back! post poems.

;)

lmao! I love this. I just might post...

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your poem is beautiful, I've just been to shy to post a response cuz then it might lead to posting a poem and artistic chaos would ensue!  I can't control this mind of mine sometimes.

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Kudos for posting HCM, it's really cool :)
I haven't written any poetry in ages!

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your poem is beautiful, I've just been to shy to post a response cuz then it might lead to posting a poem and artistic chaos would ensue!  I can't control this mind of mine sometimes.

Down with mind control, I say... and up with artistic chaos! hehe

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I just don't think it would be kind to inflict my melancholic, navel-gazey verse on innocent bystanders! But hey, in the spirit of the thing, I'll contribute... if you don't want to read whiney mopey emo scrawlings, this is your chance to stop reading...

I
Who I am is written in my flesh
Written in clean slashes of white
Upon ill-tended, sun-browned skin

Written in the bones that grow
And those that don’t

Written in voice and gait and smile
In the fine bones of a wrist
Or the swell of a thigh

Who I am is written in my flesh
As who I want to be dies by inches

II
Who I am was predetermined
Before I knew myself
Before the stars drew breath

In darkness I took new life
Ungrateful

What I am is writ in blood
Who am I to question fate
A wisp of silk adrift at sea

My destiny has caught the scent
Of my fears, and is closing in on me

(Cue regrets in 5...4...3...2...1...)

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I want to believe.
Encourage you
Encourage me.

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-snaps fingers- beautiful everyone!

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Who I am is written in my flesh
As who I want to be dies by inches

Love this line! :-)

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Sorry, fufuberry..I forgot my black turtleneck. Haha!

Ok..so..I went thru some old poetry of mine and it was hard because it's all self-destructive/self-hate/self-mutilation/old-Josh/blah blah..But I found something that's a little more positive. 9.5 times out of 10, I don't share buuuut..

I poked out my head
Only to run back in
I tried a fresh start
But I couldn't begin

Hidden behind the layers
The walls tower around
Screams inside me
On the outside - no sound

It rains inside my head
And freezes with frost
Spinning inside this maze
Until I'm completely lost

Take my hand
And guide me thru
She can't save me
And I can't save you

I'll conquer this on my own
That is..whenever I choose to start
I'll scrape her from my head
And scrape her from my heart

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Take my hand
And guide me thru
She can't save me
And I can't save you

very nice!

*(holds lighter up over head)*
more! more!

;)b

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very nice!

*(holds lighter up over head)*
more! more!

;)b

You're too kind. :)

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Here's an older one of mine.

3 2 1

I made it out of bed, the door,
away, even nearly on time
    to meet you two
           years too late, but I still can't separate you and
Never will, I suppose,
but neither can you.

It should have been then, while
   we still had something living to share, before
         we had to share anything at all, before
             we had to mean something to each other, before
it was only two

years ago.

And there we were, you and me
      Us three, and I don't know what you were
                  Expecting, but I still can't do miracles and
Never will, I suppose,
but neither can you.

It would have been better, I think
    if you'd called me a coward right then, before
          last night's whisky rose up on me and I ran, before
               I had to see it for myself, before
depending on how you look at it,

3, 2, 1, and it was

years ago

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I love how HCM is our cheerleader! I think you deserve some kind of superhero identity. :)

Theo - I am a total sucker for poetry that plays with spacing in a subtle manner like that.

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aaaawww, thanks, narcissus! i'm open, if i can just find a cape that's somewhat slimming... it's harder than you may think, to pull off that look.     ;)

Here's one from a while back... this was during my teen 'coming of age' angst period, when I was just realizing how much gender crap is out there, and how society's expectations of my bossy 16-year-old self diverged so widely from my own...

Not

I will not be a pastel thing that hangs upon the wall;
no dainty silky ruffles will I wear.
No lacy bows on blow-dried locks will ever grace my brow--
let wind and nothing else adorn my hair.
I'll speak before I'm spoken to,
I'll dance as I see fit;
I'll yell or cry or laugh out loud
and feel no shame for it.
I will not hide the strength that's mine
beneath a mantle grey;
I'll not play soft and frail
to suit the fashion of the day.

So you may call me 'bitch' and 'harlot,'
and say I'm bound for hell,
but do not try to paint me pink:
I am not pastel.

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I really like the new poem, Ms. HCM! You damn rebel.. Haha

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Tell me of your spirit…..
Does it dance in wild sunshine
Chase the wind with abandon?
Does darkness pierce the center….
Burning to the quick?

Riddle me your mind….
Does it savor strange delicacies
Speak in foreign tongues?
Indulge in the luscious forbidden
That only after  tastes of death?

Sing to me your heart…
Does it listen for the silence
And the moments in the madness...
Or is it caught away
Somewhere in oblivion?

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Very nice, Ms. Fufuberry.

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I poked out my head
Only to run back in
I tried a fresh start
But I couldn't begin

Hidden behind the layers
The walls tower around
Screams inside me
On the outside - no sound

Hey, were you a fly on my dorm room wall?  ;)b

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