The Second One.
Good Morning,
There used to be a six part story here, but I recently reverted it to a draft because I felt it needing fine tuning. It was quite cathartic going on my tangent, and perhaps I will have more multi-part stories in the future, but they will mostly be stand alone entries. Since writing out that story, however, I was inspired to write several poems (not all about those events) which was very bizarre. In high school, I used to write poetry a lot. They offered many creative writing courses, and I took most of them. We were encouraged to write a poem every single day, even if it turned out to be garbage. Oh, the garbage I created. Like a lot of hobbies though- if you don't use it, you lose it, and I lost my passion/pension for creating things. It has been many years since I've written a poem, so this feels scary, but also exciting. New words seem to be surfacing each day. I shared these with a couple friends before posting them here to make sure they weren't trash, and they have insisted they aren't, so if you hate the poems blame them. (Especially Daniel. <3 )
I love poetry, so if you have anything you'd like to share, please leave it in a comment!
The first one I'll share was basically drawn from my redacted story, and I'm just calling it Kansas.
How it feels to be both the sun
and the storm, simultaneously.
My warmth radiates, coating ground cold
and saturated
a dazzling golden yellow,
drying away cleansing droplets.
Yet, clouds, a foreboding grey,
shrouded in wispy lines of rain
like fine paint strokes,
usher in rain and wreckage;
bellowing.
I suffocate all that lives,
a monumental monsoon,
a collection of indiscernible rivers,
lakes, oceans,
identities blended and stricken.
There is fear that rumbles,
lightning jarring, electric,
then the rhythmic pattering of rain
before the sun.
Blazing back into existence,
clawing out from behind the darkness,
unceasingly it burns.
There used to be a six part story here, but I recently reverted it to a draft because I felt it needing fine tuning. It was quite cathartic going on my tangent, and perhaps I will have more multi-part stories in the future, but they will mostly be stand alone entries. Since writing out that story, however, I was inspired to write several poems (not all about those events) which was very bizarre. In high school, I used to write poetry a lot. They offered many creative writing courses, and I took most of them. We were encouraged to write a poem every single day, even if it turned out to be garbage. Oh, the garbage I created. Like a lot of hobbies though- if you don't use it, you lose it, and I lost my passion/pension for creating things. It has been many years since I've written a poem, so this feels scary, but also exciting. New words seem to be surfacing each day. I shared these with a couple friends before posting them here to make sure they weren't trash, and they have insisted they aren't, so if you hate the poems blame them. (Especially Daniel. <3 )
I love poetry, so if you have anything you'd like to share, please leave it in a comment!
The first one I'll share was basically drawn from my redacted story, and I'm just calling it Kansas.
How it feels to be both the sun
and the storm, simultaneously.
My warmth radiates, coating ground cold
and saturated
a dazzling golden yellow,
drying away cleansing droplets.
Yet, clouds, a foreboding grey,
shrouded in wispy lines of rain
like fine paint strokes,
usher in rain and wreckage;
bellowing.
I suffocate all that lives,
a monumental monsoon,
a collection of indiscernible rivers,
lakes, oceans,
identities blended and stricken.
There is fear that rumbles,
lightning jarring, electric,
then the rhythmic pattering of rain
before the sun.
Blazing back into existence,
clawing out from behind the darkness,
unceasingly it burns.
The earth is singed,
scorched, crisp.
Delicate pink peonies turn brown,
rays singularly focused.
Bitter, this round and round feud,
this torrential tango.
The tired blue sky that is my body
sings out for balance.
The sun and storm wage on,
wild and weary,
Dissolving and unlearning.
The second is just a haiku- no title.
How can I offer
the vividness of my red?
You stand color blind.
That's all for today!
Thanks for reading this stuff, and I hope you come back for more things.
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