another sunday afternoon
Well. Yesterday afternoon, my roommate Christina, her friend Ashley, and I gathered in her bedroom discussing such things as literature and the odd characters whom we know and the antics of those male creatures and all sorts of other interesting topics. And at the end of it all, we settled into creating "collaborative poetry," going around the room, each contributing a word or small group of words to form what ended up flowing relatively seamlessly. The results? ...:
1.
Glass dreams in the attic
Spiders without fears
Ideals splintering, bloody hell
Caught in between contemplations
Shards of memories charred
Stillness in the blue-- oh so lovely
2.
A spectrum from the lightbulb announcing life
In depth and with an accent and sparkling
Innate in this dance of reflection
Meadows of serenity, not green but gold, vivid and transparent
Springtime camera, nothing cliche, comes again
Windows, snapshot in the window, click-click-click, frozen
Clinical T.S. Eliot on the table wherein is free--
Taken apart, analytical, but I can put it back together again.
3.
Chansons d’amour- a blooming rose in night
Flowers bloom at night, right? Sweetly secret. . . sometimes
Green light out my window, playfully so, staring
At Charlie Chaplin, Charles in French, silently grinning, understanding
Pitfalls and Triumphs blending so well without a doubt
Making an arc of perfect degree across the universe
We come to The Beatles over paper cups of coffee full of antioxidants, or tea
Depends on how we feel, the choice, we insist, exists
In the Kantian sense, on every line, purely theoretical,
But pleasant to think about, a scale of larger things, hypothetical tango,
Hypothetical redhead, present in each note, slipping away,
Only to return perpetually and forever until the end of time
Like a charming 50's rhyme, decidedly liberal, following constellations,
On the roof a telescope, the final line gone in the doorway,
Night, in night a rose, avec une chanson
A dog barks in the air, reading now Vanity Fair, yet I did not forget the sawdust
In my ears, apparently in my eyes- or did I? Allons-y!
4.
(With a little help from Jenn)
Binomial (college, study) animals
A civil discordance
Chapstick in a black chair,
Poetry and candles on the floor,
What’s next? Another dreary afternoon? Or sunshine? Certainly warmth.
Waxen finger tips, flaxen sailing ships
Screaming “Love all!” in faltering light, oh fine flicker!
Sweet peach scent on a summer morning, green pear in the evening,
A lovely 6:30, strolling by an angry violin boy dans la rue,
To the library (exclamation point).
5.
Studying starlit shadows- silky, shiny, glimmer in the eye- subtle silhouettes, seldom lacing
Sarcastic smiles, jagged styles, so she sighs,
Darkening shades of gray, I sing when I know not what to say- where does love fit in?
Break through the haze- the haze is no answer, curious as it may be- and so it must end. . .
Nobody gets out unscathed, but one can still come out elegantly, such is the system-
Wild-child aspirations in little bits and pieces, yearning for fantasy-
But turning to desperation- nay, just words from a Sunday afternoon.
1.
Glass dreams in the attic
Spiders without fears
Ideals splintering, bloody hell
Caught in between contemplations
Shards of memories charred
Stillness in the blue-- oh so lovely
2.
A spectrum from the lightbulb announcing life
In depth and with an accent and sparkling
Innate in this dance of reflection
Meadows of serenity, not green but gold, vivid and transparent
Springtime camera, nothing cliche, comes again
Windows, snapshot in the window, click-click-click, frozen
Clinical T.S. Eliot on the table wherein is free--
Taken apart, analytical, but I can put it back together again.
3.
Chansons d’amour- a blooming rose in night
Flowers bloom at night, right? Sweetly secret. . . sometimes
Green light out my window, playfully so, staring
At Charlie Chaplin, Charles in French, silently grinning, understanding
Pitfalls and Triumphs blending so well without a doubt
Making an arc of perfect degree across the universe
We come to The Beatles over paper cups of coffee full of antioxidants, or tea
Depends on how we feel, the choice, we insist, exists
In the Kantian sense, on every line, purely theoretical,
But pleasant to think about, a scale of larger things, hypothetical tango,
Hypothetical redhead, present in each note, slipping away,
Only to return perpetually and forever until the end of time
Like a charming 50's rhyme, decidedly liberal, following constellations,
On the roof a telescope, the final line gone in the doorway,
Night, in night a rose, avec une chanson
A dog barks in the air, reading now Vanity Fair, yet I did not forget the sawdust
In my ears, apparently in my eyes- or did I? Allons-y!
4.
(With a little help from Jenn)
Binomial (college, study) animals
A civil discordance
Chapstick in a black chair,
Poetry and candles on the floor,
What’s next? Another dreary afternoon? Or sunshine? Certainly warmth.
Waxen finger tips, flaxen sailing ships
Screaming “Love all!” in faltering light, oh fine flicker!
Sweet peach scent on a summer morning, green pear in the evening,
A lovely 6:30, strolling by an angry violin boy dans la rue,
To the library (exclamation point).
5.
Studying starlit shadows- silky, shiny, glimmer in the eye- subtle silhouettes, seldom lacing
Sarcastic smiles, jagged styles, so she sighs,
Darkening shades of gray, I sing when I know not what to say- where does love fit in?
Break through the haze- the haze is no answer, curious as it may be- and so it must end. . .
Nobody gets out unscathed, but one can still come out elegantly, such is the system-
Wild-child aspirations in little bits and pieces, yearning for fantasy-
But turning to desperation- nay, just words from a Sunday afternoon.