Post by Sathien on Feb 13, 2004 10:35:59 GMT -5
hi. i'm sath. i started writing poems when i was eleven and well, they were awful awful. really, gah. 
but i got to read Poe, and he put me on this path i'm travelling now. that may explain why i write dark/tragic poems than those of other genre. anyway, here's one unforgettable event in my life in which poetry helped most in expressing and coping.
discarding words
once on a special starry night, she wrote a poem
and she called it "Sparks" because it was glittery
and that was what it was all about
that was the night they went to grandma's place
where the lights were plenty
and the music was loud
and her grandma sleeping soundly
and her aunt and uncle watching HBO
and her brothers and cousins playing in the basement
and the living room was empty
and tension was thick
and her dad got angry at her mom
and her mom got angry at her dad
and she got angry at them both
and so she crumpled the paper and tried another poem
this one she called "Veils" because it was cloudy
and that was what it was all about
that was the night she talked to her dad
where he shouted furious words
and insults about her mom
and she tried to patch it up
and she tried to say proper things
and she tried to be an adult even if she was too young for that
and she tried to ignore the happy people passing by
and the shadows they covered her with
and the stars drowning in the thick black smoke
and the remains of the cigarettes on the pavement
and the tension hanging there still
and so she tore the piece of paper and tried another poem
now she called it "Pieces" because everything was broken
and that was what it was all about
that was the night she convinced her dad to stay
where she promised things getting better
and a good life ahead
and she tried to reach her mom
and she got shouted at
and her grandmother waking up
and she needed HBO to show another story for her
and her brothers and cousins started to run around
and her aunt and uncles chattering aloud
and their voices breaking the tension
and making sharp shards out of it
and so she ripped the paper into pieces and tried a new poem
this time she called it "Just a New Year" because it was January first
and that was what it was all about
that was the day people made happy things
where they produced joyful noise
and dancing lights
and relatives kissing each other on the cheek
and enjoying the sparkle of life
and she, running here and there, making things look right
and convincing her mom to celebrate
and trying to make her dad forget
and failing with each attempt
and not tasting the food at all
and calling out just "New Year!" because there was nothing happy about it.
and so she burned the paper until it turned to ashes and tried one last poem
this one she called "Sunshine" because everything was simple
and that was what it was she was hoping for
that was the day she went home with mom and dad
where she didn't write of the creaking planks
and the loud thump from the other room
and her shoulders sagging from the difficulty of it all
and her reflection telling her it's okay to cry
and her youth allowing herself just that
and her tears glittery
and her sobs cloudy
and her promises broken
and her New Year anything but happy
no, she didn't write any of these
and so there was no need to crumple or rip or tear or burn
because there was nothing to get rid of
no words she didn't like to see
no memories she didn't like to remember
only a title empty of meaning
and so she erased Sunshine
as morning broke without it.
but i got to read Poe, and he put me on this path i'm travelling now. that may explain why i write dark/tragic poems than those of other genre. anyway, here's one unforgettable event in my life in which poetry helped most in expressing and coping.discarding words
once on a special starry night, she wrote a poem
and she called it "Sparks" because it was glittery
and that was what it was all about
that was the night they went to grandma's place
where the lights were plenty
and the music was loud
and her grandma sleeping soundly
and her aunt and uncle watching HBO
and her brothers and cousins playing in the basement
and the living room was empty
and tension was thick
and her dad got angry at her mom
and her mom got angry at her dad
and she got angry at them both
and so she crumpled the paper and tried another poem
this one she called "Veils" because it was cloudy
and that was what it was all about
that was the night she talked to her dad
where he shouted furious words
and insults about her mom
and she tried to patch it up
and she tried to say proper things
and she tried to be an adult even if she was too young for that
and she tried to ignore the happy people passing by
and the shadows they covered her with
and the stars drowning in the thick black smoke
and the remains of the cigarettes on the pavement
and the tension hanging there still
and so she tore the piece of paper and tried another poem
now she called it "Pieces" because everything was broken
and that was what it was all about
that was the night she convinced her dad to stay
where she promised things getting better
and a good life ahead
and she tried to reach her mom
and she got shouted at
and her grandmother waking up
and she needed HBO to show another story for her
and her brothers and cousins started to run around
and her aunt and uncles chattering aloud
and their voices breaking the tension
and making sharp shards out of it
and so she ripped the paper into pieces and tried a new poem
this time she called it "Just a New Year" because it was January first
and that was what it was all about
that was the day people made happy things
where they produced joyful noise
and dancing lights
and relatives kissing each other on the cheek
and enjoying the sparkle of life
and she, running here and there, making things look right
and convincing her mom to celebrate
and trying to make her dad forget
and failing with each attempt
and not tasting the food at all
and calling out just "New Year!" because there was nothing happy about it.
and so she burned the paper until it turned to ashes and tried one last poem
this one she called "Sunshine" because everything was simple
and that was what it was she was hoping for
that was the day she went home with mom and dad
where she didn't write of the creaking planks
and the loud thump from the other room
and her shoulders sagging from the difficulty of it all
and her reflection telling her it's okay to cry
and her youth allowing herself just that
and her tears glittery
and her sobs cloudy
and her promises broken
and her New Year anything but happy
no, she didn't write any of these
and so there was no need to crumple or rip or tear or burn
because there was nothing to get rid of
no words she didn't like to see
no memories she didn't like to remember
only a title empty of meaning
and so she erased Sunshine
as morning broke without it.
