poetry

Someone recently said that I write sad poetry. I've had a long, crappy day, but I found a poetry journal from a long time ago. One of the entries was pretty dark, but with some editing, it's only moderately so:

A lone walk on a semi-deserted street
No one seems to notice the quiet disturbance,
but I am there.
I fill a glass half empty with my instincts.
The only person I commune to is the pavement beneath my feet.
I see a small boy with a clouded mind crying and realize
that the glass between us is yet another mirror.
The smaller hand passes two, the larger, twelve.
Each step being more painful physically
while piercing my troubled heart.
Jumbled letter on the kitchen fridge create words
that no one else can see.

A more cheerful poem about a friend: (dated 3/30/01)

Bright yellow flames kiss the cool night air.
Blanketed in showers of brilliant stars
and a cool red sky
As if a guide, a half full moon
(conquers the night sky)
Watching upon all that are around it
Friends enjoy each others company, and they seem to laugh along
And you,
staring into the life of the flames.
Your accomplishments were recognized tonight.
The happiness succeeded the fright
And it makes me smile thinking of how happy you are.

And lastly, a poem that Matt and I worked on. Well, we each took one image and created a poem out of it. I'll have to look for Matt's. I've got it somewhere. The image is the crescent moon, as a black cat with one eye winking:

A black cat with only one eye
looks down upon God's creation
Odd, how life can begin in one place.
One moment.
Waves surge across blades of grass
Echoing out the insanities of nature's fury
But these are mild cries,
for she is only reminding us that she is there
so no one will forget who is in charge
and who we must praise for this glorious sight.
One life ends, another begins
This eternal circle, never ending
Flows into this abyss of time.
Until the last war is fought
the last song is sung
When the earth takes it's last breath
after the cat closes her eye
Then true beauty and silence...

I feel that poetry is the gateway to someone's true self. It's been fun to read these, to see who I was, who I've become, and how some things don't change.

I'm thankful for the experiences in my life that have shaped me. (and that it's okay to have a crappy day where you don't feel appreciated).