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LJ Week Four
mood: disappointed
After reading Yeats' "In Memory of Major Roberts Gregory" I cant help but grieve the repressed emotions I withhold of the loss we (and I say we as myself and community) have encountered in the last 5 months.
Three young lives gone without any warning, each so close to each other that we have had no time to grieve for each individually.
Yeats poem has released a form of emotion, grief, and a purpose. The purpose being that life is too short, and its so unpredicatable.
This poem has showed that its okay to grieve... Im not one to write about this sort of feeling, but here goes...
HOPE
No words I speak
No words I write
No words I think
Can Justify why
Why, it was your time.
No we weren't bestfriends
Friday night familiar faces
Friday night glimpses
It was fun on Friday night..
No more Fridays.
Does the grief end?
Will it ever end?
Substance. Why?
Was it fun?
Did you get high?
Was it worth it?
Did you make her cry?
Im sorry, its not your fault.
You were one of us
Just part of our cult.
Just on a search for hope
How were you to know
That its this one
Thats your last one.
And what about you?
It ate you so slowly,
But way too quickly.
So many of us hoped and prayed
We were so afraid
But one day, for sure, you would
You would, be cured.
So much potential,
Can’t go to waste.
So much beauty,
Oh, what a lovely face.
Oh Lord! Was it all a race?
Being our own Scholar Gypsy,
You fled the seas
On a mission, a search
For your identity
And found your destiny.
Having fun, no one would have known
That it was your time.
Your time to flee.
As your face flooded our lounge rooms,
Our tears flooded our hearts.
“Aussie teen brutal bashing”
Who would of thought!!
A machine breathing for you.
Again we hope.
Will our prayers reach you,
This time Lord?
Or again, is it all a fraud?
Mascara smudges across the pillow
I cant let them see
That again,
Its not me.
Three too quickly,
Three too soon
Three too soon.
Oh boys, you left your mark
And it stains our hearts
Slice, by slice, by slice.
What’s left of it?
How did we ever think
It was impossible
Are we that naïve! We are not invincible!
Why did you go?
Where is the answer?
If I find it, will it bring you back?
Do I dare..
Do I dare hope?
What do we have to do Lord?
What is it you want from us?
Were stronger now,
Please don’t pick at the pus.
How can one say “Hope for the best”
When three.. three!
Three times Lord! Your have put one of us to rest
-Cheryl Collard
Dedicated to the three boys who left a hole in all our hearts. May You always Rest In Peace.
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Aug. 13th, 2008
LJ Week Three
Language of the Heart
I admire the language that Conrad and Yeats use. I admire the way they strive to use words for a purpose, and how their sentences seem like they travel for months on.
At first "Heart of Darkness" is hard to take in, especially once you dive through the first pragraph into what future english teachers would comprehend as the body of the story. Once you get into the nitty gritty of the story you tend to realise how complex the language that Conrad uses really is. At firsts it very daunting and extremely repetetive but once you break it down (especially breaking down in tutes) you get to see the double meaning of each word... and how 'pregnant' the words are.
As much as i admire this form of language, I adore simple language. Common, everyday language. Partly because Im a 20 year old who has fallen for the mainstream of 'lazy mind' and tend to only fully understand the 21st century language- put me in a room with Hamlet to watch me cry! As much as that is a negative, I think its a great insight to a new form of language, one that is free and simple.. one that is almost conversational, similar to that the Romantics, but with a new outlook to life, one that is sadly very materialistic and one that is learning to veer from mainstream, whilst falling back into mainstream, if that makes any sense. Perhaps this generation will start our own movement? One that our great great great grandkids will study!
Back on topic, I wanted to give this freelance language I speak of a go. So here goes......
(Please keep in mind, this is writing from the top of my head, it doesnt matter if it makes alot of sense, or no sense at all... im just writing freely)
So I stand there
Not saying a word
My mind travels
My legs travel faster
Pick up the speed
Cli-donk.... Cli-donk
Cli-donk, Cli-donk
Cldoncldonk.
Isnt this my home?
Why do I feel unomfortable?
Picking up speed,
the reason im here
fades into a blur
I manage to capture glimpses
Do I want that?
Dont stop! Not now..
What if they jump at you
Like frogs to flies.
Picking up the speed
Whats the point
I know where im going,
To that familiar place
Theres nothing there
but atleast im not uncomfortable.
I think I have an idea of whats that about, but I wont say much, I wont even give it a title. Il let you interpret it to whatever you like to.
