(no subject)
Well it has been like 8 months since i have used this thing. I still read it when i have time, but time is scarce these days... So i ask myself, why post now? the answer is simple really, i have been doing a lack of writing these days and with my new english major i need to write as much as i possibly can. I write in my journal still, and i type at my computer, but the more experience and practice i get the better. I hope i write in this thing more, not because i want to bitch, but because i need to write for myself, and any new outlet (or an old one revisited) will help me with my future, and the goals i have set forth for that future. I leave you with an old "poem" that i wrote in here two summers ago(it has really been that long). i revised it because i liked where i was going with it, its still not done, poems are never done i have come to find out, but i gave it form and freedom... I welcome feedback... and criticism... the worse you tell me it is the better i can improve upon myself...
OUR window Pane Enclosure
I watch the moth's walk blindly
round
and
round
the window pane,
seeking light they will never obtain.
When the light hits their wings
just right,
patterns are marked by
the ultraviolet light.
Shadows cast upon
the wall,
disregard the flouriest light
and it all disappears
with just a short flight.
It seems so close,
basking in the warm, yellow glow,
nothing holding them back,
just to take one more step
be out of their glass cage.
That will never be,
they are trapped.
Not by bonds
magic,
blades
or pain
but by ignorance.
If they are capable of injustice
they have been wrongfully accused.
They are hopeless,
forlorn,
beyond recall.
If not by the amber rays beating upon them
until bodies smolder in the heat,
then the green fly swatter
covered in black dust
held in my sweaty palm.
See how fragile
our lives are.
In an instant the frantic lives
are extinguished
only to be thrown away
with tomorrow's trash,
or to become part
of our rooms dust.
We open no windows.
OUR window Pane Enclosure
I watch the moth's walk blindly
round
and
round
the window pane,
seeking light they will never obtain.
When the light hits their wings
just right,
patterns are marked by
the ultraviolet light.
Shadows cast upon
the wall,
disregard the flouriest light
and it all disappears
with just a short flight.
It seems so close,
basking in the warm, yellow glow,
nothing holding them back,
just to take one more step
be out of their glass cage.
That will never be,
they are trapped.
Not by bonds
magic,
blades
or pain
but by ignorance.
If they are capable of injustice
they have been wrongfully accused.
They are hopeless,
forlorn,
beyond recall.
If not by the amber rays beating upon them
until bodies smolder in the heat,
then the green fly swatter
covered in black dust
held in my sweaty palm.
See how fragile
our lives are.
In an instant the frantic lives
are extinguished
only to be thrown away
with tomorrow's trash,
or to become part
of our rooms dust.
We open no windows.