I try not to take myself too seriously. But, I guess sometimes life is serious. When things get heavy, the one true outlet I've always had is writing. Words are like Sunday mashed potatoes to my soul. When they come at the right time, they leave me feeling comforted and calm.
(Also, maybe a little fat...the mashed potatoes, not the words)
I realize that poetry is an acquired taste. I also feel like its one of the few art forms where there are more artists than people who appreciate the art, if that makes any sense at all. Nobody visits the Sistine Chapel and thinks "Eh, that's no big deal." But, read someone an intensely personal poem you wrote (IT'S MY MASTERPIECE!! YOU HAVE TO HEAR THIS!!) and they may just react that way. I have this vision where I picture a room full of 400 tortured writers spewing deep personal truths to an audience of maybe 6 people who are half paying attention.
So, to the 6 of you who are half paying attention- please feel free to skip this blog post if it isn't your cup of tea. It's December and I'm reflecting. And my readers get to enjoy (endure??) my reflections.
(Also, maybe a little fat...the mashed potatoes, not the words)
I realize that poetry is an acquired taste. I also feel like its one of the few art forms where there are more artists than people who appreciate the art, if that makes any sense at all. Nobody visits the Sistine Chapel and thinks "Eh, that's no big deal." But, read someone an intensely personal poem you wrote (IT'S MY MASTERPIECE!! YOU HAVE TO HEAR THIS!!) and they may just react that way. I have this vision where I picture a room full of 400 tortured writers spewing deep personal truths to an audience of maybe 6 people who are half paying attention.
So, to the 6 of you who are half paying attention- please feel free to skip this blog post if it isn't your cup of tea. It's December and I'm reflecting. And my readers get to enjoy (endure??) my reflections.
INSPIRED
I've been spinning on this sphere
for 32 years
Unfounded fears
It all happens so fast..falling, at last.
At least
When I fall in my dreams I wake up
Backwards, cascading curls swirling
Tumbling in a heap of glittery stars
...and scars.
My heart is knocking at the walls of my chest
No rest.
Day and night, the pounding pace
Darkness amplifies the bass
The race, the chase
I'll never catch it or even try
to fetch it, faster...
Face it.
And, the air is so heavy
I feel it bearing down my back
Relentless and cold
Old shoulders, soldiers
Smoldering with boulders of
weightless force
Forcing this course
Reflections, remorse
Instantly, in a glass smashing, car crashing
heat rising, ears ringing
birds screaming, tears streaming
skip of a beat...
skip of a beat...
It will stop being
Lost, nobody tells you the cost
Joy and pain
Loss and gain
Smiles still remain
We bear the brunt of the days behind us
Chains bind us
But broken, they're strange
Hoping for change
Trying to arrange for inspiration
adoration
365 days of elation
Breathe
Find solace in silence
Here is the best part of it, I still have all of my poetry books from back in the day, and I do agree that it is a fantastic way to get the emotions out, on paper and off your mind. The funny thing is that I’m starting to understand the phrase “weighing on my mind”
ReplyDeleteBut Lisa, thank you for shouting out the elephant in the room, 2011 was the craziest Year ever!!! So I raise my hand and in true beatnik fashion, snap my fingers in applause at the truth that sprang from that poem…
And I, as well, will raise a celebratory Chai tea latte at that comment!
ReplyDelete