Grow Up

What's that you said?
You want my help?
Oh my, how incredibly selfish of me!
I seem to have forgotten--
Forgotten that you're the center of the universe,
That they very second you need me
I should drop what I'm doing
and come do whatever you ask of me.

Your pedestal reaches so high
I can barely see you up there.
It's like you're the queen -ahem-
king of the world.
The world is yours for the taking,
the people, yours for the using.
What do us little people matter anyways,
we can surely not compare to you!

When you wake up from
this heady delusion of yours-
I will be waiting rght here for you.
So I can give you your just desserts.
And no they're not poisoned...


**I wrote this when I was really pissed at someone. It's not so much a poem as a rant written in stanza.

Not the sharpest tool in the shed...

I am going to admit it: I'm kind of a novice at writing poetry. While I have had many lectures and courses over it for about the past five years in my English classes, I've never really done much with it. I would do those monotonous assignments where we had to write two or three poems in each variety over the give subject. Along with my fellow classmates I would moan and complain. "What's the point?" "This is sooo boring, we've done this every year!" Then I proceeded to go home, fudge my way through it, doing just enough to get a decent grade on the assignment (which, to tell the truth, wasn't hard at all.)

However, as I've grown and developed over the years (quite beautifully I might add...), I've discovered that poetry isn't quite that bad at all. I've found that if I actually spend time on reading poems, developing my skills on reading and writing, and studying structure it's kind of a big deal for me. I find it to be much more helpful when I want to express myself. Sometimes it's just sooo much easier to get out what I'm trying to say or what I'm feeling without having to conform to the structure and rules of sentences and paragraphs. Oh, sure, I still love to write a good essay or story and what not. But it's always pleasant to have this free, unstructured way of expressing myself to fall back on and emerse myself in.

The whole point to this blog is mainly just to inform you that yes, my poetry is kind of... amateurish and yes, I do need a bit more work and practice with it. However, that's how we all start out isn't it? As an amateur and needing more practice. And also that the poetry I post really isn't meant to ridiculed and graded, but for me to get out what I'm feeling, to let me have some kind of release of these pent up feelings I have inside me. Because let's face it, high school's hard what with all the drama, homework, and God knows what else. We all need some way to deal. And I suppose this must be mine.

Mute

I stand at the top of a hill
and scream--
A scream that curdles the blood,
deafens the ears,
rattles the bones.
Yet-- no one hears.
I feel lost and alone among all these people.
Yes, people I call friends,
but are they really friends if they don't know?
Know that this life isn't enough.
That they fail to fulfill what I need from them.

What I whisper and scream--
in feverish fits--
is of no consequence if none shall hear me.
What is there to live for
except for this hope that I hold inside me,
this hope that a bright light will blind me.
Blind me and make me see
a whole new meaning.
For now I live in darkness,
of the mind, soul, and body.

My Well-Worn Path

This well-worn path
that I call my life.
The ground is trodden
from the back and forth of my feet.
I'm a wind-up toy,
I only go so far before--
Before I must turn around
and retrace my steps.

Day after day,
month and month,
nothing ever changes.
Same faces,
same places,
nothing new.
I wait for the day--
The day when an isolated stranger
steps onto my well-worn path
and steers me anew.

Waiting

Do you ever feel like you're lost in your own life? Just moving along the same well-worn path day after day. There's no inspiration, motivation, or excitement in a life like that. It's a mundane existence.

I feel like I've spent my whole life waiting for something to happen. Something to come along and change my life forever. I don't know what it will be, or even when it will happen. But I know it will. I refuse to live my life this way forever.

It doesn't have to be a miracle. Nothing bright or flashy. Just enough to give my life a new direction and meaning. To give me something to enjoy with my life. However, for now I guess I will continue my life the way I always have. Waiting, wishing, hoping.

Letter

Dear Dad,

There are so many reasons that you're my hero. One of the main reasons: you never quit.When you lost your job it was horrible, but you never let it get you down. Even after six months, after looking for so long and not getting so far, you nefver give up. You keep going. And it amazes me that you can always be so optimistic about everything. I really don't know how you do it. Most importantly I want to thank you for never giving up on me. No matter how mean or ungrateful I can be you're always ready to forgive and forget. Even if I don't exactly apologize. I know it seems hard right now, but I know you'll find a job. You never let bad things change your positive outlook.

Love, You Daughter
                                                                                                                                                             10/5