Written 7/4/2006.
Ubiquitous.
There is a rhythm in his step
A method to his madness
His face, furrowed in deepest thought
His hand moves to his forehead
Pushes his glasses higher on his nose
Runs his hand through his short hair
Taps his finger on the keyboard
Lost in concentration
There is no rhythm in her step
But surely there is a method to her madness?
Her face, never stuck on one expression
Worry lines already forming on her brow
She stares off into space
Chews on her lip
Tapping a pen on her head
Lost in transition
Depression consumes them both
Times are rough
Arguments frequent
Personalities clash
Dependency grows
Misunderstandings run rampant
Lack of trust
Distanced lovers
Confusion sets in, anxiety stands firm
Depression deepens
Medications fail her
Mental health fails her
Why does she feel alone in this?
Is this the end?
Should she commit now,
Or waste away for lack of trying?
Her phone calls become too frequent
Her anxiety causes arguments
She becomes self-conscious
Does she really cause all these problems?
Rapid weight loss
Self-doubting, self-loathing
Be there for her
Is she asking too much?
She's lost in this world
And she feels quite alone
She doesn't want your pity
She wants you to understand
She doesn't want to push you away
Don't think she's crazy
Because she might start to believe you
She worries too much
She wants to get better
She wants to believe that things are fine
It's hard for her
She doesn't know what to do
Or how to go about doing it
She's lost in this world
And right now
She's alone
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Clang clang clang
Written 7/4/2006, the fourth anniversary of my first love's drowning. This poem speaks to my then-fiance.
Clang clang clang
Silence
He's fallen again
"He's dead, I'm sure
Should be in the paper tomorrow"
Silenced
Click
Tick tick tick tick
Hands move over a blank expression
Tired lives are weary
Flash
"Don't watch
It will be too hard"
"You don't know me"
Slammed shut
Mournful cries
Hushed whispers
Parted ways
Silence
Yearly greeting
Cannot respond
Dreadful
Years pass
Nightly somber
Lies
Avoidance
Silent cries
Hesitant visit
Feels like home
We are better
More to come
Relationships
Meant nothing
Fleeting memories
Months pass
Four years and
I don't cry
Four years
And I feel fine
Four years and
I've moved on
But you can't see
How I used to be
Silenced
Stifled
Liar
Betrayer
Hateful
Clang clang clang
Back at it again
I am alive
The hands of the clock tell me so
No extreme emotion
Just remembrance
Not mournful
Thinking
Tick tick tick tick
Hands move over a blank expression
Tired lives are weary
Flash
Clang clang clang
Silence
He's fallen again
"He's dead, I'm sure
Should be in the paper tomorrow"
Silenced
Click
Tick tick tick tick
Hands move over a blank expression
Tired lives are weary
Flash
"Don't watch
It will be too hard"
"You don't know me"
Slammed shut
Mournful cries
Hushed whispers
Parted ways
Silence
Yearly greeting
Cannot respond
Dreadful
Years pass
Nightly somber
Lies
Avoidance
Silent cries
Hesitant visit
Feels like home
We are better
More to come
Relationships
Meant nothing
Fleeting memories
Months pass
Four years and
I don't cry
Four years
And I feel fine
Four years and
I've moved on
But you can't see
How I used to be
Silenced
Stifled
Liar
Betrayer
Hateful
Clang clang clang
Back at it again
I am alive
The hands of the clock tell me so
No extreme emotion
Just remembrance
Not mournful
Thinking
Tick tick tick tick
Hands move over a blank expression
Tired lives are weary
Flash
Cycle through
Written on 5/13/2006 when I lived in Richmond and attended VCU.
Cycle through
Personalities clash
life cycles
experiences merge
feelings confuse
past becomes present
and present becomes a dream
a nightmare.
Some things I can't understand
and some things you will
never understand.
Always turning,
churning.
The truth pulls near.
Cycle through
Personalities clash
life cycles
experiences merge
feelings confuse
past becomes present
and present becomes a dream
a nightmare.
Some things I can't understand
and some things you will
never understand.
Always turning,
churning.
The truth pulls near.
monochrome kaleidoscope
Written on 1/19/2002. I was sixteen years old. The spacing and formatting doesn't come through correctly in this blog. The formatted version can be found here: formatted version.
monochrome kaleidoscope
white all around me
white f a
l l i
n g
from
the
sky
and white if you die
pieces of white are all I see
darkness is new to me
black w a s h e s over my white world,
tainting it forever
the black and white mix together,
making grey
the sun rises in my grey land,
bringing a tinge of yellow to my world
it shines coldly upon me from above
dark blue clouds come from the west
heavy clouds
the r
a
i
n starts
drops of blue fall from an empty sky,
washing over the grey earth
the rain goes on and never ceases for years,
flooding my grey land,
then one day when the sun rose red
and all was cold
the water drained away and the grey
earth was smooth and wet
days p a s s e d and I noticed that
green was coming from my gray land
the nights became long
and the moon now shown orange,
foretelling me of times to come
the days came again and the sun was white,
reminding me of the past
purple flowers hid their faces from the grey
all there is is grey
nothing seems to change
monochrome kaleidoscope
white all around me
white f a
l l i
n g
from
the
sky
and white if you die
pieces of white are all I see
darkness is new to me
black w a s h e s over my white world,
tainting it forever
the black and white mix together,
making grey
my grey and desolate land is wasted and lonely
my life is wasted away and greythe sun rises in my grey land,
bringing a tinge of yellow to my world
the sun brings nothing to me
but faint lightit shines coldly upon me from above
dark blue clouds come from the west
heavy clouds
the r
a
i
n starts
drops of blue fall from an empty sky,
washing over the grey earth
the rain goes on and never ceases for years,
flooding my grey land,
never allowing me to see
how it truly isthen one day when the sun rose red
and all was cold
the rain ceased
the water drained away and the grey
earth was smooth and wet
days p a s s e d and I noticed that
green was coming from my gray land
the nights became long
and the moon now shown orange,
foretelling me of times to come
the days came again and the sun was white,
reminding me of the past
purple flowers hid their faces from the grey
all there is is grey
nothing seems to change
my gray and desolate land is wasted and lonely
my life is wasted away and grey
A Pandemic, I Declare!
Another erasure poem, this time from an article on the 2009 H1N1 epidemic. Written on 10/3/2009.
A Pandemic, I Declare!
Worldwide spread-
the illness,
the virus.
At the time
infection outbreaks
continued to spread,
causing illness-
novel illness
without treatment.
There will be
more deaths.
This pandemic
poses the potential
to cause significant deaths.
A virus that
spreads by
touching infected
people.
The first patient
was confirmed,
the second patient
was confirmed.
It was quickly
determined
the virus was
spreading.
By June 19, 2009
all 50 states
have reported infection.
A Government-declared,
aggressively implemented
pandemic.
By the People,
for the People.
A Pandemic, I Declare!
Worldwide spread-
the illness,
the virus.
At the time
infection outbreaks
continued to spread,
causing illness-
novel illness
without treatment.
There will be
more deaths.
This pandemic
poses the potential
to cause significant deaths.
A virus that
spreads by
touching infected
people.
The first patient
was confirmed,
the second patient
was confirmed.
It was quickly
determined
the virus was
spreading.
By June 19, 2009
all 50 states
have reported infection.
A Government-declared,
aggressively implemented
pandemic.
By the People,
for the People.
frigidity-a distillation
An erasure poem created from Edgar Allan Poe's "Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque." Written on 10/2/2009 and 10/3/2009. Erasure poetry is a form of found poetry created by erasing words from an existing text in prose or verse and framing the result on the page as a poem. The results can be allowed to stand in situ or they can be arranged into lines and/or stanzas. I just recently discovered this technique this semester in my creative writing class. It's really interesting! I don't currently have a title for this piece. Any suggestions would be great.
frigidity-a distillation
of people themselves
of ignorance, of speech
incomprehensible inhabitants
interwoven
inhabitants of earth, yet
much more metaphysical
guilty of the present
proper perusal of this
extraordinary extremity
taken off-so far forgot
as to doubt the arm
of his brother
and without having reached
death-the pardon, so horrible!
no so, however, a ridiculous hoax
well--what of that?
odd little ears
have been cut off close to his head
have been missing for days
they were dirty-very dirty
he would take his bible oath,
the drunken gentleman
returning with money in his
pockets and an astonishing
lack of extremities
have gone missing on each
trip beyond the sea
not a whit better
philosophical phenomena-
so entirely novel that
Europe is in an uproar
warm masses distributed
about the firmament
the clattering of tongues
removed in a spirit of sport
a shout resounded long, loudly
furiously through the city
he moved, burdened by the
huge bulk of his rucksack
a queer sight, this man
so oddly shaped--what could it be?
what could the
devilish, shadow-enveloped
presence portend?
mouth wrought in
an unspeakable form
maintaining hushed babbling
eye steady, still lower
dirty newspapers clutter alleyways
the insult of his misdeeds
reprehensible, upside-down
glaring from a front page
the victims, their noses
upon nearer inspection
a circle of instruments
but still worse, there
hung the parts of
many citizens of Rotterdam
murder agitated him, his intentions not so
the state of mind clear, reflecting
a philosophy reasonable enough
to collect souvenirs from his travels
and nothing more
frigidity-a distillation
of people themselves
of ignorance, of speech
incomprehensible inhabitants
interwoven
inhabitants of earth, yet
much more metaphysical
guilty of the present
proper perusal of this
extraordinary extremity
taken off-so far forgot
as to doubt the arm
of his brother
and without having reached
death-the pardon, so horrible!
no so, however, a ridiculous hoax
well--what of that?
odd little ears
have been cut off close to his head
have been missing for days
they were dirty-very dirty
he would take his bible oath,
the drunken gentleman
returning with money in his
pockets and an astonishing
lack of extremities
have gone missing on each
trip beyond the sea
not a whit better
philosophical phenomena-
so entirely novel that
Europe is in an uproar
warm masses distributed
about the firmament
the clattering of tongues
removed in a spirit of sport
a shout resounded long, loudly
furiously through the city
he moved, burdened by the
huge bulk of his rucksack
a queer sight, this man
so oddly shaped--what could it be?
what could the
devilish, shadow-enveloped
presence portend?
mouth wrought in
an unspeakable form
maintaining hushed babbling
eye steady, still lower
dirty newspapers clutter alleyways
the insult of his misdeeds
reprehensible, upside-down
glaring from a front page
the victims, their noses
upon nearer inspection
a circle of instruments
but still worse, there
hung the parts of
many citizens of Rotterdam
murder agitated him, his intentions not so
the state of mind clear, reflecting
a philosophy reasonable enough
to collect souvenirs from his travels
and nothing more