I recognize that I've been absent since about October, and for that I am truly sorry. Every time it crossed my mind to write something, I realized that I didn't have anything particularly interesting in mind to say or that I didn't have the time. The truth is that I've been very busy.
However, and I fully intend to write something more later today or tomorrow, I will break the ice here by sharing two poems which I read aloud at the college's annual Poetry Jam this morning. Let me just preface this by saying that public speaking terrifies me, that whenever I've had to get up in front of people - even peers or small groups - and speak in front of a microphone, my voice quivers and my hands shake and I start sweating uncontrollably and basically become a blithering sweaty incomprehensible mess.
Or at least that's how it seems from my end.
Last year, when I heard about the poetry jam, I was intrigued but had no intention of signing up. For one thing, though I've written poetry since I was very young, probably 90% of it was never seen by anyone except myself, and as hard as it is to share one's writing with others, it was doubly hard to share the poetry, which I always feared wasn't good enough and which was consequently extremely personal for me.
After talking to friends and coworkers about the poetry jam and being continually encouraged to sign up, I finally did. Days of stressing and worrying and fretting later, my shaking and sweating self climbed to that stage without tripping or fainting and delivered a mostly coherent rendition of two poems I had written years earlier, trying not to make eye contact with the hundreds of students, faculty and staff in the audience or pay any attention the large video camera pointed directly at my face.
I survived. And even watched the video later without cringing myself into oblivion of embarrassment.
So, when the announcement for this year's poetry jam came up, I immediately responded to sign me up, without waiting for nerves to let me question the decision. I didn't have much time to think about it, as this past Tuesday was the largest event of the year for my department at work and I've been working my butt off with lots of long hours trying to get ready for the past few weeks.
Suddenly it was the day of the event, and I had only quickly read through my two poems at the last minute one time. One of them is fairly long, and tells a story of a particular event which I shared with my dad several years ago. I had written the poem that day, and later gave it to my dad as a framed keepsake, superimposed over a photo of the place where the story is set. He has it mounted on the wall at home. The title of that poem is "Bluebells" for the blue flowers in the story, and as our whole family took a trip to that park two weekends ago and saw the bluebells, I had only just remembered the poem and that's why it came to mind the day I signed up to read.
For the second selection, I wanted to pick something nobody had yet read or seen, so I used a short poem which I actually posted as a Facebook status one day last summer, a moment captured in imagery and onomatopoeia, if my English vocabulary has not yet entirely left me =P
As rare as it is for me to share my poems with anyone, it's rarer still for me to share anything that hasn't spent at least 3 or 4 years in the Disney Vault of my computer. I guess I figure if I can leave it sitting awhile and still like it when I come back, it might just be fit for human consumption. Like haircuts, I always seem to hate and regret my poems the day after and for some time, and need some reassurance that they aren't horrible before I want anyone to see them. It's harder to hide a new haircut, though.
Anyways, enough preamble. Here are my two poems, and a promise to write something else SOON. Thank you for staying with me, my friends. And I apologize because I don't think this posting format will let me do the first poem in two columns, so it will be a LONG post. You can skip this part if you're not interested =p
Bluebells
One sunny day in April
Sitting by the TV
Watching the sun
Through the window
Dad asks if I want to go
To walk the dog
At the park
The one with the bluebells
Tying my shoes
Packing a couple of apples
And a chunk of cheese
A bottle of water
With a cup for the dog
And a couple of bags
Just in case
Out of the garage
Down the street
Through the town
Past trees in bloom
And yards full of flowers
Then onto the little winding road
Through the trees
We pass a neighborhood
Full of brand-new houses
With neat little lawns
That weren’t there before
Continuing on
We see horses in a meadow
Fences overgrown with vines
Little run-down houses
Surrounded by trees
And wildflowers
The shadows of the trees
Making patterns on the road
Into the park
Past the smiling attendant
Into the parking lot
Where I learned to ride my bike
When I was little
Blinking in the bright sunlight
We head towards the trail
The one with the bluebells
I remember that day
We came for the hike
More than anything else
But the closer we got to the river
The more of them we saw
Bluebells!
Little blue flowers
As far as the eye could see
Like a sea of petals
That drowned out the grass
We made plans to come back
To bring cameras
And take pictures of them
To capture the bluebells
On film
So we could never forget
But the next week
When we came back
They were all gone
Not a single flower
Could we find
We had been back
A few times since
Always hoping to see
The bluebells
Like they were that day
But it was never the same
I guess we were just lucky
It was around that time of year
When the bluebells could be out
We took a drive out there
Hoping to see them
It had rained
And the path was muddy
But we went anyways
Far from the busy world
Of school and working
The sounds of birds
And rustling leaves in the trees
Sloshing through the mud
Coating my white sneakers
Over little bridges
My dad had once helped build
Tiny white flowers
Flecked the sea of green grass
The occasional wild violet
Past a few other hikers
No bluebells to be seen
We trudged on
The dog pranced
A little breeze rustled by
Finally we saw them
Few at first
The blue buds
Just beginning to bloom
I smiled
Remembering
There were more of them
Mixed with the white
All overpowering the grass
Under the green canopy
Of the trees
A many-colored canvas
Just waiting for us
But we didn’t have a camera
We walked on
Beside the river
Which gurgled softly below
The flora over all
And the shadows of the trees
Making patterns on the ground
We came to a place
Where the ground was covered
Garbage everywhere
Among the bluebells
And the violets
And the trees
Beer cans and bottles
Half-buried in the mud
And Styrofoam cups
We finally reached a bridge
That had collapsed
The end of the road
We didn’t want to swim
Not with the dog
So we had to stop
Sitting amongst the flowers
We ate our apples
And the cheese
Sipped lukewarm water
Let the dog off her leash
So she could run around
My dad started to talk
He spoke of the future
And all the things I would do
That I preferred to forget
I wasn’t ready to leave home
Not quite yet
I ate in silence
Watching the dog
And picked a few flowers
To take home
Then stood up
Brushing off the dirt
And called the dog
It was time to head back
When we came to the spot
Covered in trash
My dad remembered the bags
So we stopped
And started to clean up
First one bag then two
We filled them all
But it wasn’t enough
We took as much as we could carry
And sloshed back
Through the mud
Over the bridges
And back towards the car
When the ranger drove by
He took our bags
Put them in his truck
And thanked us for helping
We took as much as we could
I said quietly
But couldn’t help thinking
It wasn’t enough
At the ranger’s store
We bought some ice cream
Which we ate on the lawn
Dad shared his with the dog
It was getting hot out
Then it was back to the car
Back onto the winding road
It reminded me of a poem
From a book I once read
“the road goes ever on and on
Down from the road where it began
Now far ahead the road has gone
And I must follow if I can”
It was a good book
Back past the little old houses
Back past the new houses
Back through the town
Where I grew up
Back home
We left our dirty shoes on the step
And went inside
Back to the hustle and bustle
Of our lives
With nothing to show
But muddy shoes
And a few little flowers
Just in case===
"Summer Rain"
What is it I love about a summer rain?
For one, it cuts the heat.
Breaks the humidity into tiny pieces
and sends them shattering down on our heads
In soft, pattering trickles
The sounds of the world seem muted
Drowned in a blanket of moist droplets
That soften and liquify the hard edges
Wash away the dirt and dust and pollen
The sky may be dulled and darkened
But the earthy hues of grass and dirt and flowers
Seem brightened by their moistened reflections
Feet tromping quietly through puddles
As the patter, patter of drips ripple through
Freshening and invigorating and bringing life
To the otherwise dull heat of summer sunlight
Summer rain is a welcome respite
A thoughtful quietening
A drip drip dropping solitary walk
As thoughts meander through the rivulets
Of fresh natural summer showers.===
Thank you, thank you *takes a bow* - until next time, folks!
