Joined: 05/11/11 12:17 AM
Location:Out to Sea
Today we will take a memory and turn into a poem.
Coming Home in the Winter of 1994
Construction paper snowflakes fall off of classroom windows
like leaves from trees in autumn. Each snowflake melts
as it reaches the concrete ground. Buried
underneath a black woolen coat and red hat,
scarf and gloves, I appear rotund. Heavy
thuds of windows finding their sills grow fainter as I move away
from the red brick school building, rubbing frozen hands together
as I taste the bitter winds. I breathe in the sharp odor
of now stale cafeteria food seeping out of the grate
that I pass on my way home, its stench pressing heavily down
on me. St. Catherine of Genoa School is now a block away,
yet I can still see the snowflakes as they lay on the ground.
The freezing wind stills once I walk pass the cemetery,
and I’m chilling like a villain the rest of the way home.
As I reach my building, Tai tells her mother she is home,
as she will do for the next three years,
until she has her own set of keys. I enter the grainy hallway
and make my way to the living room. I am chilled to the bone,
the cold so deep my fingers and toes burn.
La’kay se kote ou **** tèt ou.
The living room rug wraps itself around my cold feet until the numbness
melts away like snowflakes on an autumn day.
Must be original
Must be about a memory
One poem per person
I will gift you 300sp or something from your wishlist worth that amount or more.
Winner will be announced tomorrow.
*this is my earliest memory from when I was a baby in my bassenet curled up with my cat, Levi*
Levi Look up
At the dark blue
With white patterns
The white wash walls
Feel the purr
The rough tongue
Fur that sheds
The green eyes
Float From the next room
Loving, smooth, calming
In time to the purrs
Beating with your heart
In time to the rough tongue
Lapping on your cheek
In time to the whiskers
Brushing on your forehead
In time to the soft fur
Falling, covering you in a blanket
So safe and sound
Like it will never end
Warm, fur covered body
Your chubby little torso
Rubbing into your neck
Tail being grabbed
By your stumpy little fingers
Fingers that grasp
The safety that envelopes you
That is your guardian
"From a distince",
I am told.
No, it is not true.
Face my fears and thus behold,
a place, my life
To narowwly escape
will not do for me.
I wil now try to
greet the world-
not so distantly.
( This is about I time I told a lady on the street to stop yelling at her child ( She was like, shreaking at the poor thing! ) and my mother told me to not interveane with the world's problems. I was apald, I wanted to help make the world a better place, not watch it fall apart. Hope you enjoyed it, to me it is a serious subject.. )
This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 04/11/12 01:41 AM
Fatty Matty grew up to be a handsome man
Charmed the ladies and had his way
What a self-centered, rude and arrogant man
Even he came from humble beginnings
Matty was always the fattest kid in school
He was not the smartest nor the fittest
Playful games, jests and nicknames turned into torment
They echoed for years like a thousand piercing painful pins
Looking at food made him guilty
Caring about what others thought of him became his priority
Solitarity was his way of life
Solitarity was not his choice
He made it his goal to fit in with others
Lost a hundred pounds and became a swan
It was hard to imagine such a beauty came from an ugly duckling
Glitter and glam didn't fool the all seeing mirror
Everyday he reassured himself
He was a handsome man
But the mirror spoke the truth
It told Matty he was just a shallow, foolish and insecured boy
Still he rather pay the ultimate price
And played the role to perfection
Afterawhile losing himself wasn't so bad
As long as it helped him forget his past
ciane wrote:I love Zulie's, but I also feel Boltz.
And they are all great!
Thanks, I love everybodys! Therapy are all amazing, and they stand out in their own ways! I love reading the poetry, I'm more of a lurker, but I felt like sharing this time... I wish there were more... Ah well, there is still the rest of the month!
Joined: 12/24/11 12:31 PM
Location:Australia and sometimes Halloween Town
My only excuse for this poem is that I'm feeling a little seedy today.
Memories of a time long gone,
The longings of childhood, of just being,
No worries which bind and complicate life.
White vans crammed into the paddock,
So close together, yet unseen in your own.
The air stings with icy cold,
Darkness arrives and people huddle around.
Aromas of treacle cake and toffee apples,
Broken oddments of wood are thrown on the bonfire.
Sounds whizz by, faces look up to see a multitude of colours exploding, fading,
A Catherine Wheel turns, spitting out sparks, vivid and bright.
A fire starts to burn, slowly at first, a slight crackling can just be heard,
Then bursting to life, showing off its heat and flames which lick the night sky.
A lifeless body lays at the top,
Cheers cry out as it catches alight,
Faces distorted by the orange, flickering glow.
Hands that were numb are brought back to life,
More bangs and sparkling hues illuminate and dance around the stars.
I stand, enthralled, entranced.
Joined: 02/05/11 12:28 PM
Location: the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop
@Blythelyre I'm so glad you came up with the idea to do this.
I can't get on here everyday to read, but I do go back and read all the links.
Nice work everyone!
Anyway, not sure if it's too late to enter mine, but I had something I'd like to share anyway. This one's a poem about childhood memories I have about my mom.
Days I Think Of You
As I wash the tumblers and a stray coffee mug,
I rush through impatiently, not seeing;
Hardly believing that as a child
I begged for this chore.
I'd splash in the dish water
While you played your housecleaning music.
I remember the records spinning on the turntable;
Hearing Carly Simon singing
About clouds in her coffee
Makes me wonder what you saw
In your morning cup and why
I never thought to look; never tried to see.
Folding laundry, I remember
You made this rust and brown and cream afghan,
And one day you had to unravel
Several too short rows
Because you lost track of the end.
I think of how we lose track of
Things we wished we'd paid attention to,
But instead find faults we don't want to see.
I'm beginning to find patterns;
Mistakes I never noticed before
Repeated in folds of afghans,
Knitted in lines of poetry.
Looking at the sky I see the moon and remember
Whenever us kids rode in the car at night
We'd see the moon and watch it chase us.
But when you were chasing us around,
Did you ever look up and wonder if there was more
Than this written in the stars for you?
Seeing the sky tonight I realize
We have both chased and have been followed by
The same moon phases; the same seasons of stars.
In the dot-to-dot constellations I find
The shapes of the stories we share, the ways we are connected.
Even when things seem so dark I cannot see beyond myself,
I try to remember there is still light to be found,
A guiding star, mom, a beacon
Despite the distance.