Thursday, January 29, 2009
I told you I would try to post some of my poems, and here one is. I know it's not perfect, but it's alright for now. I just had to write something about Mr. Spaniel, although I also started writing a poem about Mama's feet. I should finish that one, because I like it too.
This is the first draft of the poem, so any commentary is welcome, even if that includes, "Jessie- just write another poem."
I met him at my brother’s monster party.
Me ironically showing up as a party monster-
Black heels, skin-tight 80s, glittery,
Jazz dance outfit that I found at Goodwill,
Hugging all the sexy and awkward curves
On my body. Feeling naked and silly,
I had nothing to hide. The lampshade
Strapped on my head, along with my giraffe
Legs, brought me close to seven feet tall.
He was a just-got-off-from-waiting-tables
Monster. Plaid shirt, wheat skin,
Intelligent, Dominican head,
And those orange old-school Nikes
Made him just under 5 feet, six inches tall.
Hearts on my fingers,
Hearts in my morning oatmeal,
Hearts on my Anatomy Lab notes-
I started tracing them everywhere.
Somehow I had turned into a Middle-School
Girl with a lovely crush on a boy.
Laughs, kisses, movies, and wet eyes,
I’m still finding his hairs embedded
In my carpet. I wake up knowing the head
(Or chest) from which these hairs came
Is no longer around for me to touch.
I didn’t want it to end,
But with him saying he was afraid
Of being in love (again),
And me saying I just want
To love and be loved,
There was only one lonely answer
We both didn’t want to hear.
So now I’ve learned that I shouldn’t go
For the short monster afraid of love,
I need to vacuum the carpet more.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
My first poem for my fancy college poetry class is due tomorrow. Truth be told, the class isn't really fancy, nor does it feel like a college class. My teacher is twenty-four years old, and curses like he's one of my family members. What's up with that? The odd thing is, he's probably going to be one of the best teachers I have at FSU. He's enthusiastic about teaching, he wants to hear what his students have to say, and he gets us involved. What more could I want?
Well, what I would like is some direction is this freaking poem that I have to write and read out load to my fellow classmates tomorrow. I thought it would be quite simple and easy to write a poem about this time last year (or any other year around this time), but when I started writing, I realized that I've never written a poem without a structure outline or rules. That makes me feel a little sad about myself. I've never even finished writing a whole song, even though I've started many. I pretend to be an artist, but not for anybody but myself. The urge to be an artist is there, oh yes it certainly is, but I have never felt very successful.
I know I have my music, and for that I am very grateful, but I don't feel like I own it, if you know what I mean. In my family, I really have the least knowledge about it, it seems to effect me the least, and the truth is, I'm not a good listener. I don't even know the words to songs I've heard millions of times. Sometimes I'll be "singing" along to a song I know, and I realize I have never actually listened to the words. It really makes me sad, but then when I try to listen, I end up forgetting to listen and my mind wanders and I think about other things. And not important things, just stuff like, "What am I going to eat later? Man my lips are chapped. Why is that? I wish I didn't always have chapped lips. I should be thinking about other things. Gosh, I wish I was a deeper person..." And other silly, self-critizing crap.
Anyway, it's late and I really should get some sleep. Not to mention write that poem. Hah. I'm excited about tomorrow morning because I have to get up early for my first microbiology lab-we're going to be working with flames and Escherichia coli! That last statement was ment to be sarcastic, but now that I think about it, I really am kind of interested and excited. I like that hands-on stuff.
Wish me luck! I hope everyone that reads this, (meaning Mama, and maybe Hank and May) are all having very nice days.