I've begun to try poetry writing!
It was a struggle in high school, I just didn't get it or the meanings. My interpretations were always way off what the teacher wanted and so I had decided poetry wasn't for me.
In my post-undergraduate life, some close friends suggested modern poetry. After reading 4 books from 4 different poets, all favourites from my friends. I finally got that poetry could be a good expression for me. I figured I'd give it a try!
Any constructive criticism or encouragement is welcome :)
It was a struggle in high school, I just didn't get it or the meanings. My interpretations were always way off what the teacher wanted and so I had decided poetry wasn't for me.
In my post-undergraduate life, some close friends suggested modern poetry. After reading 4 books from 4 different poets, all favourites from my friends. I finally got that poetry could be a good expression for me. I figured I'd give it a try!
Any constructive criticism or encouragement is welcome :)
Sunrise
Look, just out there, that lifted blue.
Do you see the paleness?
Like someone spilled a bit of chlorine bleach on the navy sky. It's a slight contrast dividing the sea from the heavens.
Look, just over there, above the back-door neighbour's roof, do you see the purple?
Yesterday it was pink.
See how the colour highlights the bottoms of the clouds and makes them look so dark?
Look, just past there, on the other side of the train station, that soft orange?
It reminds me of peach themed products, the world waking up while I'm on the water in a rowing racing shell and childhood summers when the mourning doves would coo at my window.
Look, there it is, the sliver of bright yellow.
Do you see it grow?
Look how the light dances atop the crests of the waves. Do you feel the warmth of this happy colour?
Look, do you see the parade of colours and memories?
So many things to be thankful for as the sunrise greets us.
Look, just out there, that lifted blue.
Do you see the paleness?
Like someone spilled a bit of chlorine bleach on the navy sky. It's a slight contrast dividing the sea from the heavens.
Look, just over there, above the back-door neighbour's roof, do you see the purple?
Yesterday it was pink.
See how the colour highlights the bottoms of the clouds and makes them look so dark?
Look, just past there, on the other side of the train station, that soft orange?
It reminds me of peach themed products, the world waking up while I'm on the water in a rowing racing shell and childhood summers when the mourning doves would coo at my window.
Look, there it is, the sliver of bright yellow.
Do you see it grow?
Look how the light dances atop the crests of the waves. Do you feel the warmth of this happy colour?
Look, do you see the parade of colours and memories?
So many things to be thankful for as the sunrise greets us.
Subway Part 1
Wind first.
That’s what you feel waiting down in the TTC subway of Toronto. The people are anxious to get where they are going and tired of the early mornings.
A change in the wind first.
Sound second.
People begin to shuffle, getting ready to board the subway. The train is coming.
The sound of the rattling on the rails is second.
Light third.
The headlights round the corner and everyone holds their breath. Here it is, the thing they have been waiting for.
Light from the conductor’s car comes third.
The arrival fourth.
Woosh! As the subway launches by.
Such speed and velocity to bring to a stop. The people crowd closer, naturally getting into lines to board the subway and still leaving room for people to offload.
The subway arriving is fourth.
Subway Part 2
The subway, strikes me as being like life and change.
First, the winds of change blow in your world. The first hints and whispers that thins won’t stay the same.
Second, the sounds of change. The whispers become statements. It’s scary and you have to start to wrestle with it. Not wanting to be drawn out from what’s comfortable and safe.
Third, the light of change. Change is coming weather you are ready for it or not. No longer a concept to grapple with, it’s happening.
Fourth, the arrival. It’s time, change is here, the opportunity for growth is here. Mourn the loss of the past but rejoice in the adventures of the future.
There only leaves one question; will you get on the subway?
Wind first.
That’s what you feel waiting down in the TTC subway of Toronto. The people are anxious to get where they are going and tired of the early mornings.
A change in the wind first.
Sound second.
People begin to shuffle, getting ready to board the subway. The train is coming.
The sound of the rattling on the rails is second.
Light third.
The headlights round the corner and everyone holds their breath. Here it is, the thing they have been waiting for.
Light from the conductor’s car comes third.
The arrival fourth.
Woosh! As the subway launches by.
Such speed and velocity to bring to a stop. The people crowd closer, naturally getting into lines to board the subway and still leaving room for people to offload.
The subway arriving is fourth.
Subway Part 2
The subway, strikes me as being like life and change.
First, the winds of change blow in your world. The first hints and whispers that thins won’t stay the same.
Second, the sounds of change. The whispers become statements. It’s scary and you have to start to wrestle with it. Not wanting to be drawn out from what’s comfortable and safe.
Third, the light of change. Change is coming weather you are ready for it or not. No longer a concept to grapple with, it’s happening.
Fourth, the arrival. It’s time, change is here, the opportunity for growth is here. Mourn the loss of the past but rejoice in the adventures of the future.
There only leaves one question; will you get on the subway?
Grief
The sunrise has lost its colour,
The tea has lost its flavor,
The book has lost its emotion,
and I am empty.
My guts are spilled in front of me on the floor,
my lead limbs too heavy to try and put myself back together,
my heart has rolled to the farthest corner.
Without your warmth and weight the world is foreign.
I expect you in every room, around every corner,
only to feel fresh pain when you are nowhere to be found.
Gone are the days of play, of sleep, of quiet and pace.
Large empty silences are all that is left from your absence.
I would give years of my life to have you live longer here by my side.
Alas, the world does not work like that and though I may cry or rage,
you are lost to me.
The sunrise has lost its colour,
The tea has lost its flavor,
The book has lost its emotion,
and I am empty.
My guts are spilled in front of me on the floor,
my lead limbs too heavy to try and put myself back together,
my heart has rolled to the farthest corner.
Without your warmth and weight the world is foreign.
I expect you in every room, around every corner,
only to feel fresh pain when you are nowhere to be found.
Gone are the days of play, of sleep, of quiet and pace.
Large empty silences are all that is left from your absence.
I would give years of my life to have you live longer here by my side.
Alas, the world does not work like that and though I may cry or rage,
you are lost to me.
I Tried Poetry Once
I read; novels, novellas, short stories, essays, poetry, plays, and all other works undefined by category.
I write; outlines, mostly finished short stories, never finished role-plays of the non-sexual variety, the occasional essay the rare poem.
I am a Writer thought I doubt I’ll be an Author.
If I am an author, it will be of a collection.
I’m a literary flirt! Dabbling in everything and marrying none.
There will be no one category, style or genre I can procreate from.
I tried poetry, once. I wonder what I will try next.
I read; novels, novellas, short stories, essays, poetry, plays, and all other works undefined by category.
I write; outlines, mostly finished short stories, never finished role-plays of the non-sexual variety, the occasional essay the rare poem.
I am a Writer thought I doubt I’ll be an Author.
If I am an author, it will be of a collection.
I’m a literary flirt! Dabbling in everything and marrying none.
There will be no one category, style or genre I can procreate from.
I tried poetry, once. I wonder what I will try next.
Commuter
I want to yell
I want to scream
‘Get out of your daily commuter routine!’
‘Look outside the windows,
What do you see?’
A sunrise over water
snow covered fir trees
‘Look around the cabin,
Who do you see?’
A newlywed
A long time single
A mom
A dad
A thinker
Why do I see 68 people every morning with somber faces in their phones?
Did no-one tell you that no two sunrises are the same?
Did no-one show you how to peek between fir trees to see the deer?
Did no-one teach you that the same people who make the city colourful sit beside you on the train?
People are tired; bullshit, attitude is a choice.
People are busy; bullshit, lifestyle and priorities are a choice.
It’s train ettequite; bullshit, people would acknowledge each other’s existence if it was.
Here I sit, a hypocrite
I want to yell
I want to scream
‘Get out of your daily commuter routine!’
‘Look outside the windows,
What do you see?’
A sunrise over water
snow covered fir trees
‘Look around the cabin,
Who do you see?’
A newlywed
A long time single
A mom
A dad
A thinker
Why do I see 68 people every morning with somber faces in their phones?
Did no-one tell you that no two sunrises are the same?
Did no-one show you how to peek between fir trees to see the deer?
Did no-one teach you that the same people who make the city colourful sit beside you on the train?
People are tired; bullshit, attitude is a choice.
People are busy; bullshit, lifestyle and priorities are a choice.
It’s train ettequite; bullshit, people would acknowledge each other’s existence if it was.
Here I sit, a hypocrite
Cavern
Everyone experiences sadness differently.
Mine is a crack in my mask, it runs long but only deep in the middle.
The middle, it doesn’t bleed but it drains right into my soul.
It’s a hole in the earth’s crust,
a wide open pore exposing a secluded cavern
and it’s late like pool of water
Jump or fall, it’s trilling at first
and then the luke-warm water catches you.
It’s a hug here at the surface,
a tear stained smile.
Here at the surface, black maw of depth stretches out beneath you.
Explore
The deeper you go, the colder the water,
you go until it hurts your skin,
your bones,
and you feel it no more.
Still the pool goes deeper!
There is a rocky outcropping to rest,
it goes deeper,
it goes wider.
There is no light that penetrates here,
you could easily convince yourself that you reached a new universe,
a new state of existence.
That you can breathe water and rest here in the suffocating silence.
Except that burn in your lungs,
it reminds you this isn’t home,
it reminds you that you shouldn’t linger.
Look up to where the light is.
Surface.
Save exploring those depths to another day.
Everyone experiences sadness differently.
Mine is a crack in my mask, it runs long but only deep in the middle.
The middle, it doesn’t bleed but it drains right into my soul.
It’s a hole in the earth’s crust,
a wide open pore exposing a secluded cavern
and it’s late like pool of water
Jump or fall, it’s trilling at first
and then the luke-warm water catches you.
It’s a hug here at the surface,
a tear stained smile.
Here at the surface, black maw of depth stretches out beneath you.
Explore
The deeper you go, the colder the water,
you go until it hurts your skin,
your bones,
and you feel it no more.
Still the pool goes deeper!
There is a rocky outcropping to rest,
it goes deeper,
it goes wider.
There is no light that penetrates here,
you could easily convince yourself that you reached a new universe,
a new state of existence.
That you can breathe water and rest here in the suffocating silence.
Except that burn in your lungs,
it reminds you this isn’t home,
it reminds you that you shouldn’t linger.
Look up to where the light is.
Surface.
Save exploring those depths to another day.
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