I like a day of silence,
I like the time to think--
allow my mind to wander;
allow my eyes to blink.
I haven't posted in a couple days, but that doesn't mean I haven't been writing...it just means I haven't been writing anything outstanding. Haha. So I thought I'd pile everything up in one post, and give an update on how everything is going.
Well, it hasn't been bad. And I'm really looking forward to Easter. And the Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs, which I absolutely love but have not eaten any yet this year. Though I did have a dream about them last night. We're heading up to my aunt's house today to spend the night and dye Easter eggs, like we do every year. And I'm really looking forward to the time there. I'll get time to read without the constant nag of homework in the background. Yay!
I got a screw lodged into my tire yesterday, luckily I was at a gas station when I noticed so Deacon was able to air it back up and we drove home safely. Dad went and got it fixed while I was at work, which only cost $8. Really, the whole situation had the best timing possible. And it reminded me of the nails in Jesus's hands the night he was crucified, which gave me a little bit of comfort and perspective. Everyone needs a moment of that during Easter. Or anytime of the year.
Also, I also like Thoreau's Walden. I haven't read the majority of it, but we discussed it in my Lit class and I remembered how much I loved it. Definitely worth reading entirely.
Alright, here's some more not-so-great poetry!
I grew up thinking I had a quirk
that I'd earned through birth, I'd made my mark
upon the earth. I differed from
the rest of all the boys and girls
because upon my milk-white face
I had a little mark of grace
that stood out like a drop of blood
upon purified drinking water.
The sharks could smell it--then they swarmed
me as I walked through the double doors
of higher education. Hurled
the most sarcastic compliments
like fishhooks sunk inside my cheeks.
They took their jaws, their sharpened teeth,
their jagged knives and daggers deep
into my flesh and skinned my soul--
my bloody wreck of face from bone.
I shivered, exposed to all the sea
writhing in pain inside of me.
They did not stop at just the mark,
but extracted my nose, my mouth, my blood
filling the gaps. But this was ideal
trade for tainting uniform beauty.
--inspired by Hawthorne's "The Birth-Mark,"
He looks like a troll, I think silently
the instant he stand before the room,
but as he speaks, the words flow through
the air and pass beneath my skin.
Perhaps he speaks in rhymes and spells,
I think while still in a trance.
As he retreats back to his seat,
I reason that trolls are full of surprises.
If that is what it takes to earn
a prestigious poetry award,
then I'm content without one.
Really. I'll continue writing for myself;
writing not based on society,
not in hopes that I'll win anything,
but based on my emotions. Based on
language that moves instead of drowns.
If I have no name but Honesty,
that is fine. At least my words
will be of truth and not of profit.
I like to see a dead tree
(because it once had life)
standing tall and proud in cold
weather; rain and ice
storming upon it, though its roots
do not alter so--
it waits for Spring and baptism
so it can stretch and grow.
I like to see this patient friend--
the glowing elderly--
still strive for life upon the weight
of age and quality.
We ought not be kept in bondage;
we ought not be enslaved.
We will not have it anymore.
Have a happy Easter, everyone!