Poetry

I have a love hate relationship with poetry. As you can tell from the writing section of this blog (which hopefully you have checked out by now...) I really enjoy writing poetry. It is a fantastic way to share complex emotions and it is very similar to the song writing process which I also adore. Reading poetry however is another story. While I have some lovely memories of pondering the writing of Pablo Neruda, most of my poetry experiences have been ones of annotation and literary analysis. Now do not misunderstand, as I jump for joy every time I get to write an English paper (yes I am a nerd, if you just figured this out then you obviously did not realize you were reading a book blog...), but sometimes I feel lost in the breaking down of poetry. In trying to evaluate how to prove my interpretation of the author's work, I feel like I lose touch with the actual purpose of the poetry. Am I alone in this feeling? Is poetry meant solely for feeling or also for our intense literary analysis?

What are your feelings on poetry anthologies? One poem can be emotionally draining and I have never actually attempted to read several from an anthology, just for fun. Comment with your thoughts on poetry and feel free to share any recommendations. Happy reading!-Becca 

Who Am I?

I have a fun game for you all! As I have been super busy this week (Four tests!) I decided to post a poem I wrote about a famous author for Night of the Notables in eighth grade. I love this poem and if you know me well enough you might be able to guess the author without even reading the poem! Comment your guesses and on Monday I will reveal the subject of my poem! Happy reading!

I am known as a writer

Unusual in my time

But my novels are still famous

I wrote only six before I died

I lived with my family

My sister Cassandra my best friend

My father encouraged me to read and write

Where in other houses this would offend

They say I was funny

With a humor quite subtle

I was a woman very wordy

Always prepared in arguments with rebuttal

My books are romantic

Ironic I must say

For I never married

And I was happy that way

Incorporated in my works

Because it is my style

Realism, irony, and social commentary

Make reading them worthwhile

Two of my novels

Have titles quite alike

With and’s in the middle

And identical first letters of the two words left behind

Even though I died

In Winchester at only 41

My legacy lives on in classic novels

And eager readers who are young

So one last clue

If you still are not able to guess

My last name relates to cities of Texas

Which when I lived did not exist  

Sometimes I Wish for a Little Calm in My Life

Sometimes I wish for a little calm in my life

Its ironic though

The girl who does nothing

Wanting peace

They used to call me the most flirtatious

Vivacious, loquacious

Now to them

I’m just a nerd

But I’m more than that word

I’m curvaceous, courageous

Still definitely loquacious

About my voracious reading

Why is it that I do nothing for fun

In their eyes

Reading and writing

Are just for school

Why do I still crave their acceptance

I’ll ignore my friends

Just for a short conversation

With someone “normal”

Why can’t I ask questions

About our discussions

Why is it weird

To have something clarified

Why can’t I have goals

And be confident

In achieving them

Without being considered arrogant

I just want to get to know someone

Be there for them

And truly understand that

They will be there for me too

And I know that life isn’t a romance novel

But sometimes I wish it was

Where the bossy, intelligent, beautiful, nerd

Finally feels like she fits in

And no my life isn’t terrible

In fact it's pretty damn great

Yet I feel as though I hold the whole world on my shoulders

Without any help bearing the weight

Sometimes I wish for a little calm in my life

A little lull where all makes sense

Where I don’t have to prove anything

Yes I know it's ironic right  

The World is Like a Bookshelf

The world is like a bookshelf
Holding our stories on musty, dusty, wooden arms
Flowers of opportunity bloom
Off of its sides, curling like vines

It envelops our lives
Protective with its five white walls
Malicious with its open face
Allowing us to catapult ourselves

Ending our book so many pages too short

The world is like a bookshelf
Holding our history on elaborate, tasteful arms
Windows to our hearts sit
Crowded and overpopulated

It envelops our lives
Caring with its open acceptance
Resentful with its limited space
Only nourishing some

Only providing for some

The world is like a bookshelf
Holding our future on musty, tasteful arms
Flowers of opportunities lost
Wilt and fall down it's loving and unforgiving sides

Oneirophobia

the fear of dreams not easily explained

for dreams are something most can not evade  

dreams are the true windows to the soul,

for the one who dreams has no control

the reflections of your desires

cut through you as sharp as briers

your subconscious telling you the truth

expecting you to be the sleuth

a mystery inside your head

will haunt you until you are dead

for the meaning to be truly uncovered

something inside yourself must be discovered

a darkness you not knew you had

maybe a lust that could only go bad

when imagination mingles with the real

a fate that unwanted you just sealed

nightmares haunt the land of dreams

awake you when you should sleep

keep you wondering all through the night

how this could possibly be right  

Winter

she whispers softly in my ear
sleep gently darling winters here
cold and darkness soon arrive
and frigid stillness gentle stride

secrets swirling in the air
arrive in slumbering death's lair
and as we rest alone and deep
all the little lies we try to keep

sequestered in our own self pride
we envy the leaves that slowly died
for when we are chilled to the bone
we know our hatefulness has grown

fingernails bitten down to stubs
we have forced ourselves into a lonely club
greed will only take so far
before one starts to miss the par

but still we sleep through every night
so when winter comes we will fight
and lose we must for we will go
when winter leaves and melts the snow

Why Time Flies

They say time flies when you are having fun
And it crawls when you wish it would sprint
Time and I are friends you see
But it has never been good to me
Leaves me behind while it soars
My knees still pressed against the ground

Just three weeks left
Feels like more
But summer has to end some day
Summer and I have a love hate affair
Work to be done
Time to be wasted

I can't deny the sounds
The creaks and the shakes
Can't blame the elements of winter
The rain, the heaters, footsteps in night
Makes me know I'm not alone
Pull the covers over my eyes

But I am alone
At least for two more days
Or three more weeks
Until I see them every day
I see him every day
Beautiful torture

Time and summer have ganged up on me
Left me with boring forced words to write
And wonderful stories itching in my mind
Forced me into a schedule
Forced me into society and responsibility
Leaving lazy days behind for months  

Moving On

Sometimes it's hard
to move on
to forget
to stop the obsessing in my head
Why do you have to be
the person I want to share it all with
to talk with
to listen with
Why do you have to inspire my stupid poetry
why can I always come back to you
I want to scream at you to let me be
stop leading me on
I know you don't mean to
But it sucks
it really does
you tell me to wait
you disprove of them all
pick something already
friends or more?
you say the former
yet you won't let me move on
its really hard
to move on

Why must I always?

Why must I always study?
Cause I'm not ready?
Am I in a hurry?
To complete the last years of adolescence
Secured with the message
That I am in first place?

Why must I always use a schedule?
Cause I'm not reliable?
Am I that undisciplined?
To complete my important tasks
Yet still remain flexible
Without being slave to a bell?

Why must I always worry?
Cause the future is always blurry?
Am I so scared?
To complete a simple task
And recognize my ability
To be truly independent?

Why must I always use a pattern?
Cause I'm not sure how to flatter?
Am I creative enough?
To complete my life goals
And stay true to myself
Without being a cliche?

Why must I always write poems?
Cause I'm not really broken?
Am I so tapped out?
To complete no songs for two years
because poetry is easier
than finding the right tune?

Why must I always doubt myself?
Cause I'm not up high on a shelf?
Am I willing to accept change?
To complete my happiness
Because new passions can arise
And sometimes we need to move on?

But have I really changed?
I'm still forcing myself into patterns
into schedules
into insane goals
pretending my passions wouldn't have a chance
But I'm breaking the rules
And the old me would never
break the continuum of a poem.

My high and mighty opinion

If I was labeled

I would be a goddess

the creator

of all things

The written language

flew from my mouth

to my hand

spurring all of history

I was born from the big bang

I took nothing

and made it

everything

I am a finch

crawling into Darwin’s head

heck I invented evolution

knowing when the weaker man should bow out

I am destruction

the disease on the flee

on the rat on the boat

from China to Europe death followed

I am redemption

the scale that weighs

a souls worth

before opening the gates to the Underworld

I am Mnemosyne

I birthed the nine bringers

of inspiration

for all art

I am love and hate

war and peace

every contradiction

that rules our universe

Paradise

Take me to a far away place, far away from here
Take me to a scream and shout place, scream till I can't hear
Take me to a dance all night place, dance the night away
Take me to a sing it loud place, sing till my voice breaks

You say we're in paradise, feel the summer breeze
So it looks like paradise, is not as sweet as it seems
You say we're in paradise, looking like kings and queens
So this is paradise, I can't wait to break free

Take me to a sweet and sour place, sugar and spice won't do
Take me to a spend all day place, spend the day with you
Take me to an adrenaline overload, energy overload state
Take me to an outcasts only, I shouldn't see no exclusive face

You say we're in paradise, feel the summer breeze
So it looks like paradise, is not as sweet as it seems
You say we're in paradise, looking like kings and queens
So this is paradise, I can't wait to break free

Don't tell me that you, have given up on what you know
Don't tell me that you, have let paradise take control
Don't tell me that you, have given up on our dreams
Don't tell me that you, think that paradise is on our team

You say we're in paradise, feel the summer breeze
So it looks like paradise, is not as sweet as it seems
You say we're in paradise, looking like kings and queens
So this is paradise, I can't wait to break free

Focus

I'm sure there were loud screams

Coming out of her mouth

When I gave my sister her first bath

I'm sure there was soap and warm water

Covering her in a tub

But I'm not sure

It's all black tinged in my mind

My almost three year old brain didn't focus

On any other details

Not focused again until

It's a hot summer day in

my striking pink corvette

only four though I feel

like so much more when

I meet my first friend

Not focused again until

Otter pops, one a day

Sticky hands, sticky day, playing cops and robbers

Lighting off fireworks

In the street, popping in the blackness

Nighttime still light, eyes rubbed red from battles previously fought

Not focused again until

Loud bustling bumper cars in bright colors

Desire to crash, fear of impact

Fear to fall off the boardwalk along the beach

Seaside, rolling waves, sand

Everywhere, my toes, my swimsuit, my hotdog and s'mores

Not focused again until

Clanking nickels and number calling

The glares, the consequence of beating

The old nursing home ladies with their hearing aids

Where we eat our pinwheels and mint chocolate ice cream

Sit in great grandpa's chair so calm and happy

Not focused again until

The hissing air of blowing up the bed

Lights from the bridge keeping me up but really

An excuse to read all those classics

In the little bookshelf, on the yellow walls

Of my grandparents house

Not focused again until

The wet grass soaking my shoes while

We pace with each other, talking, imagining

Our game, the four of us best friends always

Playing, creating more, taking on more roles only

Waiting for the bell to ring and end our fun

Not focused again until

The crunch of gravel, cementing the feeling

Of the first day of middle school, truly

Realizing that only three of us will be there

One in another school just waiting

To be united again

Not focused again until

High heels too tall, tripping and

Recovering last minute making it a more

Memorable 8th grade graduation than

The speech and solos I performed causing

A surge of relief of moving on

Not focused again until

Three months in and

I’m staring at the wall

Of my freshman health class

The impact of high school

Only just then taking its hold

Not focused again until

My hands are on the wheel

Of my car where tears

Stream down my face in

The hot weather of my

Last day of sophmore year

Unfocused again

Will probably stay

Until the realization hits

That life is real

And I am not

Only a dreamer lost in a deep sleep

Shatter

Hi everyone! I asked around last summer to find out if anyone would be interested in having short fiction and poetry included on this blog. You guys said you would like to read some of my writing so here it is! This poem called Shatter was inspired by the Shatter Me series by Tahereh Mafi. If you haven't read anything by her yet I would highly, highly recommend it too you! Anyways I hope you like my poem and please comment and tell me if you would like to continue reading my writing! You can find more under my new writing page. Happy reading!-Becca

warm summer colors swarm my vision

turn down the street to meet the division

the fork in the road it may appear

and even though we sit nowhere near

I feel your voice right in my ear

and know your thoughts are still right here

and I shatter as your words unravel my mind

Icy blue winter freezes the door hinge

hands so cold my touch makes you cringe

out of my hands the icicles fall

my phones not ringing but I hear you call

the reflection says short but we stand so tall

my words stumble and trip as they ring through the hall

and I shatter as your words unravel my mind

you fracture my breath

you ignite my heart

the glimmer in my eyes was yours from the start

you capture my aura

you unlock my soul
you turned my vision sharp now the worlds not dull

and I shatter as your words unravel my mind

crisp fall wind blows away stray hair

dance through the meadow, anyone can see we don’t care

the sky is raining leaves colored like blood

tight cotton shirts stained with mud

wherever you walk flowers start to bud

visions blind me as I fall into your arms with a thud

and I shatter as your words unravel my mind

you fracture my breath

you ignite my heart

the glimmer in my eyes was yours from the start

you capture my aura

you unlock my soul
you turned my vision sharp now the worlds not dull

and I shatter as your words unravel my mind

and I shatter as your words unravel my mind