Monday, March 2, 2009

Habits...

"i haven't written a poem in so long
i may have forgotten how
unless writing a poem
is like riding a bike
or swimming upstream
or loving you
it may be a habit once acquired
is never lost"

~ pg. 262~

I love this first stanza. It hit me for so many reasons! I think I have been thinking about writing poetry myself since we last talked about writing "mother" poems of our own. I used to love writing, and have not found time to do it in awhile. I like thinking that it is like riding a bike...that perhaps I didn't forget how to do it. I agree, it might be arduous, like swimming upstream, but if i have enough passion towards it, it can be accomplished. If you read on the poem gets deeper, talking about 'kinds' of love and loving, and feelings of being alone. Perhaps I am getting to personal, but this poem spoke directly to me because I have been feeling alone lately. I feel like I could have written the stanza:

"if you love me, why do i feel so lonely and why do i always wake up alone and why am i practicing not haveing you to love...i never loved you like that."

In closing...I hate men. :/

3 comments:

  1. Why do you hate men?


    When are we going to write poems?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Here's one from me and it's called "dear":

    dear

    I want to visit hot springs once before I die
    and you want to forget the tense fears
    of believing in that disturbing cry
    Never to become acquainted
    yet never quitting, maybe willing to try
    After I visit, I want to notice
    what encompasses you
    what makes your heart fly
    our differences are many
    but similar we are so
    this is something I know
    I’ve noticed your radiance flowing an ever constant flow
    Once a people stripped you, specifically of the soul
    trashed every bit of honor, having lost their entire goal
    But as I send my airborne kisses, as I read just one
    of your lost names, peace may have its chance
    and the gruesome muscle will ignite into flames
    Breathing in your scents, walking through your paths,
    dreaming in your mind
    yes, it would be ever so pleasant
    to be American blind
    Of course, sadly some are
    blanketed kept "safe" and so unfittingly free
    but wishes I hear
    of respect soak the roots of your majestic tree
    The authority clasping us tight implores pure love
    in a triumphant flight, circumnavigating, invigorating,
    and beginning a false height
    I kneel in dismay
    and to you, I write with a mind which can think
    And, I grip the smile you shone on that
    usual muted and perilous night

    ReplyDelete
  3. You put my simple poem to shame! I guess it shows that authors have different styles?? You are a wonderful writer. I wish I would have seen this comment earlier so I could have posted to you! I love it, but want to hear it spoken from your mouth, with the beat/rhythm that you intended. Please? I would also love to pick your brain about the deeper meaning...awesome.

    ReplyDelete