An Exercise In Poetry
This day has been equal amounts of amazing and shitty. So I've been writing poetry. Or trying to write what is supposed to pass as poetry, anyway. The great thing about writing poems is called poetic license which is basically a license to mutilate the English language in whatever way you want to and calling the resulting magnum opus a poem.
In an effort to flex my severely atrophied creative muscles, I amused myself with poetic exercises. Not all of them are good. Most don't even make sense but this is a day for indulging myself so... a work of horror or brilliance or some psychotic blend of both. XD
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Attempt 1: (Frankly I have no idea what this is and I'm not sure if I want to call it a poem but what the heck)
What Then Is Love?
Constancy is a flower waiting all throughout winter for a chance to bloom in the spring
Hope is the millions of people who go to Las Vegas full of hidden desperation that the magic of lights-and-slots will change their lives
Growing up is the moon born from a meteorite-upon-Earth and slowly, slowly, billions of years slowly, pulling away from its orbit
Eternity is the ocean carving at diamond cliffs
So I stare past flower, past people, past moon, past ocean
And I wonder...
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Attempt 2:
The Impossible
There are a million grains of sand
What is the chance of finding a blue one?
He asks me, "Which shade of blue?"
And all the grains are all the shades of blue that have ever existed
"Stop searching."
Blue sands clenched between two hands: his, mine, mine, his
"I will come."
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Attempt 3: Another ????????wtfisthis?????????
A room with a thousand mirrors
Inside each mirror - a nightmare
Find the dream.
"Dreams do not exist in mirrors."
They exist in souls.
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Attempt 4: Also known as "omg fides went to albert hall this makes me so happeeeeee i shall go write a poem about my happiness now kaythnxbye". I think I tentatively titled it 'Fides Visited' (all caps with exclamation point, that is how sappily happy I was that she was ALIVE) but then I realized that would be kind of pathetic so as in the previous one, we shall leave this poem untitled.
Lazy thistle downing milk
Stretching and grasping and smiling
Blissfulness is just a text message away
Who knew that by letting the heart go
I was condemning myself to freedom?
Leaping while pitter-patters, soft and hard
Play chess all over my skin
Skyclad (or so it seems)
Compressed water summoned by gravity
Skydiving in celebration
Yes. Come to my smile. Come to my laughter.
It fills the invisible earth.
The alchemy of turning sorrows into smiles.
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Attempt 5: This is disturbing. No really. Inspired by Bob.
This poem is highly disturbing you have been warned:
Water the garden of my dreams with blood
Saturate it with crimson sadness
Let the twisted, hungry stalks
Writhe gently, graspingly over trellises of flesh
Let them grow puncturing thorns that gouge holes
Through skin-muscle-bone.
Play the soundtrack of my screams
Let the music of pain lull to sleep
My darkest fantasies (you whisper: nightmares...)
Cut muscles, crush bones, flay skin, break, oh break everything
Let it travel in sparks through nerves, tingling
Let it flower bruises, pretty purple, blue, black
Yes, please.
...
Hurt me.
-ends-
This poem is also an excellent reason why I am in Plant lab.
-----------------------
Lol. That's it for this day's creative exercises. Productive I must say. Even though it was all... weird. Maybe I should open a tumblr account too?
Cheers for my insanity.
In an effort to flex my severely atrophied creative muscles, I amused myself with poetic exercises. Not all of them are good. Most don't even make sense but this is a day for indulging myself so... a work of horror or brilliance or some psychotic blend of both. XD
-------------------------
Attempt 1: (Frankly I have no idea what this is and I'm not sure if I want to call it a poem but what the heck)
What Then Is Love?
Constancy is a flower waiting all throughout winter for a chance to bloom in the spring
Hope is the millions of people who go to Las Vegas full of hidden desperation that the magic of lights-and-slots will change their lives
Growing up is the moon born from a meteorite-upon-Earth and slowly, slowly, billions of years slowly, pulling away from its orbit
Eternity is the ocean carving at diamond cliffs
So I stare past flower, past people, past moon, past ocean
And I wonder...
--------------------------
Attempt 2:
The Impossible
There are a million grains of sand
What is the chance of finding a blue one?
He asks me, "Which shade of blue?"
And all the grains are all the shades of blue that have ever existed
"Stop searching."
Blue sands clenched between two hands: his, mine, mine, his
"I will come."
---------------------------
Attempt 3: Another ????????wtfisthis?????????
A room with a thousand mirrors
Inside each mirror - a nightmare
Find the dream.
"Dreams do not exist in mirrors."
They exist in souls.
----------------------------
Attempt 4: Also known as "omg fides went to albert hall this makes me so happeeeeee i shall go write a poem about my happiness now kaythnxbye". I think I tentatively titled it 'Fides Visited' (all caps with exclamation point, that is how sappily happy I was that she was ALIVE) but then I realized that would be kind of pathetic so as in the previous one, we shall leave this poem untitled.
Lazy thistle downing milk
Stretching and grasping and smiling
Blissfulness is just a text message away
Who knew that by letting the heart go
I was condemning myself to freedom?
Leaping while pitter-patters, soft and hard
Play chess all over my skin
Skyclad (or so it seems)
Compressed water summoned by gravity
Skydiving in celebration
Yes. Come to my smile. Come to my laughter.
It fills the invisible earth.
The alchemy of turning sorrows into smiles.
-------------------------
Attempt 5: This is disturbing. No really. Inspired by Bob.
This poem is highly disturbing you have been warned:
Water the garden of my dreams with blood
Saturate it with crimson sadness
Let the twisted, hungry stalks
Writhe gently, graspingly over trellises of flesh
Let them grow puncturing thorns that gouge holes
Through skin-muscle-bone.
Play the soundtrack of my screams
Let the music of pain lull to sleep
My darkest fantasies (you whisper: nightmares...)
Cut muscles, crush bones, flay skin, break, oh break everything
Let it travel in sparks through nerves, tingling
Let it flower bruises, pretty purple, blue, black
Yes, please.
...
Hurt me.
-ends-
This poem is also an excellent reason why I am in Plant lab.
-----------------------
Lol. That's it for this day's creative exercises. Productive I must say. Even though it was all... weird. Maybe I should open a tumblr account too?
Cheers for my insanity.