The Spiral Returns
The melancholy is back. I realized it suddenly right in the middle of class. We were really Keats "Ode to a Nightingale" and I nearly cried.
Started writing a first draft to a poem on the way home. Here are the lines I have so far in no particular order or definite diction. Also the grammar is fucked. Right now it's a bunch of couplets ten syllables each line. Someof these lines I feel my brain is fucking around Shakespearian and Keatsian style:
I did not realize I was back from death
Until, Alas!, the spiral came again
Hard pressed to note my gay relieved ascent
Yet tripping steps to folly: novel vignettes
The smiling times are cloudy as a dream
My melancholy arcs are best received
Delighted wallowing in tragic pools
____________________________
The puzzle pieces shift with greater speed
Here's all my pills and masks and new machines
It's not a love impossibly attained
Simply sweet, To wild for me to tame
That so much joy my heart sees fit to shame
The unrequited eye turn, should I sway
Time spent hating that I love not "that which..."
O, that witch I love, that stirs passions pot
The spiral in thy cauldron is my heart
Also I wrote this linked one before I read Ode to a Nightingale....and I thought about it as I read it. I should edit it after I finish this one....especially since the Frankenstein poem isn't going anywhere. : http://anonymiss731.livejournal.com/9594.html
Started writing a first draft to a poem on the way home. Here are the lines I have so far in no particular order or definite diction. Also the grammar is fucked. Right now it's a bunch of couplets ten syllables each line. Someof these lines I feel my brain is fucking around Shakespearian and Keatsian style:
I did not realize I was back from death
Until, Alas!, the spiral came again
Hard pressed to note my gay relieved ascent
Yet tripping steps to folly: novel vignettes
The smiling times are cloudy as a dream
My melancholy arcs are best received
Delighted wallowing in tragic pools
____________________________
The puzzle pieces shift with greater speed
Here's all my pills and masks and new machines
It's not a love impossibly attained
Simply sweet, To wild for me to tame
That so much joy my heart sees fit to shame
The unrequited eye turn, should I sway
Time spent hating that I love not "that which..."
O, that witch I love, that stirs passions pot
The spiral in thy cauldron is my heart
Also I wrote this linked one before I read Ode to a Nightingale....and I thought about it as I read it. I should edit it after I finish this one....especially since the Frankenstein poem isn't going anywhere. : http://anonymiss731.livejournal.com/9594.html