Hello everybody!
Well, this will be my first entry here and I'm really excited about that. As a little introduction, hi, I'm Jamie. I'm 17. I've been writing poetry forever and ever. My goal is to write something real one day -- a novel-length something would be nice; I'm kind of one of those people that can't sit down and do that because it's too much planning and I don't tend to do much planning at all when I write, unfortunately. Maybe (I keep telling myself this, I'm holding out) it's just my age. Maybe college will change me. Either way, for the moment, here I am and this is what I have.
The following is a poem I just wrote in about five minutes. It's about something (someone) that happened to me last month. It would be so easy to sit here and type up the entire story of what happened -- I'm so ready to just yak the ear off of anyone who's willing to listen about it -- but that would defeat the purpose and I'm already rambling. So, without further ado, the poem. Maybe not my best work but important and meaningful and stuff, hopefully.
I have been
partial
to the science of astrology
the art of palm reading
the yes-no-maybe of divination
I have been
along that road, before
(ignorant to you hiding there like a virus
ignorant of the ugly turns my path was about to take,
aren’t we all?)
but never quite that far
up I95 in the eveningtide
with the goldred glow of the sun and
you
in my hair, on my lips, coating my teeth
like sugar
I have been
many places before
(the sky is always the same)
and there are many things I have seen that I will
never see again but
there is a special pain in the park near your apartment
and in getting lost in the lush green,
wasting half an hour, a quarter tank of diesel,
and so much of me trying to find a simple parking spot
there is a special pain in trying to find something
a mirage that I never had in the first place, and you are gone
regardless
Because I had not yet before been in your hands
(in your apartment, in your bed, in your mind
but only for a moment on that last one)
nor out of my jeans
And I had not yet learned that there are
some somethings you cannot divine.
The following is a poem I just wrote in about five minutes. It's about something (someone) that happened to me last month. It would be so easy to sit here and type up the entire story of what happened -- I'm so ready to just yak the ear off of anyone who's willing to listen about it -- but that would defeat the purpose and I'm already rambling. So, without further ado, the poem. Maybe not my best work but important and meaningful and stuff, hopefully.
I have been
partial
to the science of astrology
the art of palm reading
the yes-no-maybe of divination
I have been
along that road, before
(ignorant to you hiding there like a virus
ignorant of the ugly turns my path was about to take,
aren’t we all?)
but never quite that far
up I95 in the eveningtide
with the goldred glow of the sun and
you
in my hair, on my lips, coating my teeth
like sugar
I have been
many places before
(the sky is always the same)
and there are many things I have seen that I will
never see again but
there is a special pain in the park near your apartment
and in getting lost in the lush green,
wasting half an hour, a quarter tank of diesel,
and so much of me trying to find a simple parking spot
there is a special pain in trying to find something
a mirage that I never had in the first place, and you are gone
regardless
Because I had not yet before been in your hands
(in your apartment, in your bed, in your mind
but only for a moment on that last one)
nor out of my jeans
And I had not yet learned that there are
some somethings you cannot divine.