I'm on a bit of a kick...

a writing kick that is :) After having had writers block for so many months, it feels great to finally have something to say and means to say it with. With that being said, I'm going to share a poem that is fully and entirely meant to be read. (I think I need to hit up an open mic soon...)

Dear mothers and fathers

Do you know your children?

Who are your sons and daughters,

Do you know their dreams and goals?

Or do you walk blindly

Turned from their hearts,

Blocked from their lives?

Glance down the path ahead of them,

Who’s paving their way?

Are they pushing the stones,

Making the road their own

Or are you ahead of them,

Dictating every turn?

Dear mothers and fathers –

Adjust your focus,

This chance is theirs.

Let them be true to their desires.

Dear mothers and fathers –

This is for your sons and daughters.

How I Learned to Fly

The day before I really learned what creative non-fiction is, I wrote this poem. After having learned, I would venture to also classify this as creative non-fiction, but only a little bit. I was inspired by a guest speaker from that day, his name is Atticus and he writes awesome slam poetry. I'll admit - I am far from a slam poet, however, this poem is one that would sound great if read out loud, by a person that truly understood its meaning. I would wager to say that this person would have to be me, so maybe I'll get over my shyness and read it at an open mic. Without further ado, I present,

How I Learned to Fly, the True Story

And in this instant-

I am face to face with

The very emotions that

Would once lead me to

The very thing that is

Destroying me.

And in this instant-

My emotions instead

Drive me to swing.

I grasp the cool metal chains,

Pull myself into the worn seat,

Push my feet off the ground.

And as I begin to climb skyward,

My keys fall with a quiet ring,

My phone plummets, to land with a thud

And with a sudden kick,

My shoes slip and dive into the mulch.

I stretch my legs forward,

Leading with my naked toes.

The further I reach,

The higher I soar.

And in this carefree moment

My floodgates are torn open.

I close my eyes,

grip the metal chains.

Thoughts and worries and gallons of hurt-

Warm, droplets

Fleeing from locked prison cells,

Sliding down my cheeks,

landing;

Only to be forgotten in the mulch below.

Still enveloping myself in darkness,

I hold the chains tighter-

The metal now hot from my sweaty flesh.

I feel the edges pushing into me

Leaving marks in my palms,

But higher I reach.

And as I fly above the world,

I release my horrors,

Letting them drop-

Like copper coins into a well with a splash.

Sending them with a wish

To end days like this one.

My freeing flight

Is quickly ended

When the sound of Kim Possible

Plays from my cell phone.

I jolt myself back to reality,

Where big kids can’t play.

I stop reaching forward,

Hang my legs in defeat.

Surrendering to friction and gravity

As they stop my once perpetual motion.

And for all the damage-

Heartbreaks, lies, and nightmares

That drove me to this swing,

I’d give it all again

To be able to fly.

I call this creative non-fiction

Today, two very awesome people came into my class today to talk about creative non-fiction, which is writing about the truth, creatively - not just making shit up. After sharing some examples and telling us how it works, we embarked on a writing adventure. Given only one instruction, write about something that makes you angry in a "letter of lament," we were set free to write! At first, I didn't have the slightest idea what to write about, a lot of things make me angry. Recent circumstances, however, have left me really just pissed at one thing. I chose to write my "letter" about this. After I finished, I have decided that it best fits along the category of lyrical essay,. It is metaphorical and beautifully written, in my opinion. I now present, my letter of lament.

drugs.

they are my ex-boyfriend.

the lifejacket keeping him afloat. “I don’t have to swim or drown, just have to be.” and I am left on shore, watching him clutch the plastic buckles securing him in a bright orange flotation device. he’s been there so long, and now that he can finally feel the menacing cold of the water and see the dark emptiness around him; he’s forgotten how to swim. and now I can only watch. watch him drift away.

they are the foundation of a friendly heart.

they are the life in her smile. keeping it alive so she doesn’t remember why she’s alone. and I hate her smile. it laughs in my face, taunting me to come along for a ride. it whispers in my ear, a memory from long ago, “think of the fun we shared…” it grins and teases, and giggles quietly, a haunting reminder.

they are the shadows of my past.

they are a song looping in my head. I can’t hear over the noise. and as much I hate this song, it just plays and plays. an endless refrain of, “come back to me, it’s almost easy. (said it all) come back again, it’s almost easy (you learned your lesson) come back to me, it’s almost easy. (but still you fall) come back again, it’s almost easy.” thank you avenged sevenfold.

they are a fading reprise.

Direction in its most sincere form

I am going to give this blog direction. I am done with random ramblings, after this post, everything will be of creative and artistic value. I am an aspiring writer, hoping for a career someday. I hope that someone, somewhere finds my words to be interesting. Here's to a new start on this blog :)