wax poetics...whatever that means.
so i had a creative surge and wrote two poems. the first is sort of depressing - it's about loneliness. it's quite rough and i'm not totally sold on any of it. the second is a nostalgic ditty, and also a bit rough around the edges. comments/suggestions are much appreciated.
"the right side of the bed"
this twin bed is not big enough for us two.
it can fit me but not
the imaginary you.
the few inches of open space
i leave behind me
just in case...
when my eyes close
the void wraps around me
like an envelope.
but instead of space
i imagine it is your embrace.
then my eyes open and i come
back to reality, where the bed
is home to only me.
maybe it's tragic that i don't believe
in silly magic.
it's supposed to be dynamic
but so far all i get is
static.
but i still keep the bed empty
in hopes of
future intimacy.
so in the mean time
i do anticipate the feeling of
your weight
next to mine.
and this is not about my
lack of self-esteem
but instead my telling
of a reoccurring dream
where i am fast asleep
and you...
you are on the right side of the bed.
and all these thoughts
are not merely in my head.
"rainbows"
rainbows remind me of all the
colors of the world.
red, yellow, blue, green.
back when life was
easier than it seemed.
we were kids then and it didn't matter
that you were white
and i was brown.
growing up in that small midwestern town.
you told me of summers
on your grandad's farm
while we had fine dining
of lucky charms
and kool-aid.
we both lived not
two blocks from the lake.
and was it a mistake that we never
spoke again after that year?
that your momma packed up
her blue belvedere and moved
you someplace less shallow?
i had no one else to share my
soggy marshmallows, but i did
still think of you.
you were prince charming
and i, cinderella.
but instead of glass slippers
all i had was a big blue umbrella
that we'd sit under as it rained,
and waited for hours until
the rainbows came.
"the right side of the bed"
this twin bed is not big enough for us two.
it can fit me but not
the imaginary you.
the few inches of open space
i leave behind me
just in case...
when my eyes close
the void wraps around me
like an envelope.
but instead of space
i imagine it is your embrace.
then my eyes open and i come
back to reality, where the bed
is home to only me.
maybe it's tragic that i don't believe
in silly magic.
it's supposed to be dynamic
but so far all i get is
static.
but i still keep the bed empty
in hopes of
future intimacy.
so in the mean time
i do anticipate the feeling of
your weight
next to mine.
and this is not about my
lack of self-esteem
but instead my telling
of a reoccurring dream
where i am fast asleep
and you...
you are on the right side of the bed.
and all these thoughts
are not merely in my head.
"rainbows"
rainbows remind me of all the
colors of the world.
red, yellow, blue, green.
back when life was
easier than it seemed.
we were kids then and it didn't matter
that you were white
and i was brown.
growing up in that small midwestern town.
you told me of summers
on your grandad's farm
while we had fine dining
of lucky charms
and kool-aid.
we both lived not
two blocks from the lake.
and was it a mistake that we never
spoke again after that year?
that your momma packed up
her blue belvedere and moved
you someplace less shallow?
i had no one else to share my
soggy marshmallows, but i did
still think of you.
you were prince charming
and i, cinderella.
but instead of glass slippers
all i had was a big blue umbrella
that we'd sit under as it rained,
and waited for hours until
the rainbows came.