Attempt at poetry. (This might be bad for your health, I don't know.)
Ok, so in the constant and neverending search for scholarships and such, I submitted a poem to a poetry contest. I just wrote it in like, 5 minutes but I thought I'd share it to see what anybody thinks. I've never really been into poetry that much. I wish I knew the rules so I could write better stuff. I think this is more like a story. Anyway, here it is:
Wandering
Cloud by day.
The sky is bright and beautiful. I am walking with these girls down by the beach.
My mother said, “Go and have fun with Katie. She’s your age!” I was given an encouraging smile. Who is Katie? She is my age but I know nothing about her. What's her favorite color? What does she want to be when she grows up? What does she dream about at night? I decide to give my mom time to talk to a real friend, an old acquaintance she hasn’t seen in years.
So here I am at the beach. I’ve never been to this part of the country before. The water is cold and there are interesting shells and rocks. I slip a few in my pocket.
My makeshift friend makes conversation. She and her friends ask polite questions and laugh in a gracious way, allowing me to intrude on their summer afternoon.
If I stay longer, they might not be so nice. Growing up with these girls, going to school with them, would they have been my real friends? Maybe a few. I doubt it. We have nothing in common. We are enjoying each other’s company out of necessity. To please our mothers. But only for today.
Later, my mother and I pack up the van. The sun is setting. There is a heartfelt hug between my mother and her long-lost friend. I turn to my friend of today. “Bye,” I say. “I had a nice time.” Then comes the awkward moment when there is possibly a hug, possibly a handshake, possibly just an attempt at a genuine smile. But it’s over in a few moments anyway.
Fire by night.
We get in the car and drive away. The houses in the neighborhood smile and wink, the windows lit, exposing families cuddled together. Each house is another place I don’t belong. I think about my own house. About how I will be leaving it soon for a college dorm and then for another house in another place. And I’m not sad. I haven’t lived there long.
The street lamps burn. They light our way onward, down the highway to Pittsburgh? Philadelphia? Somewhere beginning with a P... Some place.
The lights from the other cars. A lone line of red. Another long line of white. Each car contains another family. Another story. It’s mind-boggling.
And I know that I have a long long way to go before I get home.
Really, everywhere is just a place. Whether it has a capital P or not.
But one day, I’ll be Home.
Wandering
Cloud by day.
The sky is bright and beautiful. I am walking with these girls down by the beach.
My mother said, “Go and have fun with Katie. She’s your age!” I was given an encouraging smile. Who is Katie? She is my age but I know nothing about her. What's her favorite color? What does she want to be when she grows up? What does she dream about at night? I decide to give my mom time to talk to a real friend, an old acquaintance she hasn’t seen in years.
So here I am at the beach. I’ve never been to this part of the country before. The water is cold and there are interesting shells and rocks. I slip a few in my pocket.
My makeshift friend makes conversation. She and her friends ask polite questions and laugh in a gracious way, allowing me to intrude on their summer afternoon.
If I stay longer, they might not be so nice. Growing up with these girls, going to school with them, would they have been my real friends? Maybe a few. I doubt it. We have nothing in common. We are enjoying each other’s company out of necessity. To please our mothers. But only for today.
Later, my mother and I pack up the van. The sun is setting. There is a heartfelt hug between my mother and her long-lost friend. I turn to my friend of today. “Bye,” I say. “I had a nice time.” Then comes the awkward moment when there is possibly a hug, possibly a handshake, possibly just an attempt at a genuine smile. But it’s over in a few moments anyway.
Fire by night.
We get in the car and drive away. The houses in the neighborhood smile and wink, the windows lit, exposing families cuddled together. Each house is another place I don’t belong. I think about my own house. About how I will be leaving it soon for a college dorm and then for another house in another place. And I’m not sad. I haven’t lived there long.
The street lamps burn. They light our way onward, down the highway to Pittsburgh? Philadelphia? Somewhere beginning with a P... Some place.
The lights from the other cars. A lone line of red. Another long line of white. Each car contains another family. Another story. It’s mind-boggling.
And I know that I have a long long way to go before I get home.
Really, everywhere is just a place. Whether it has a capital P or not.
But one day, I’ll be Home.