and i remember i was really proud of it.
hung it up on my wall and everything when it made the newspaper.
a year ago today, i took the grey-brown frown of november
and molded it into metaphors with my own two hands. looking
back, some of them are impressive, some a laughable attempt
at trying to be impressive. but that's all it is, really?
laughable. you can't take anything too hard. besides,
what good is being a poster child with no Blunders to be re-named
Nostalgia in another year from now? i'll learn
from some of my mistakes, foster something different, something
better. and some, i'll never stop making, they're just who i am.
but it doesn't really matter, i think. does it?
you live, and you learn and sometimes you don't.
but the most important part is that you live. that's all.
today, i wrote a poem.
a year ago today, i wrote a poem,
More by elise.writer
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sunday nights
sunday nights are my own.
old music in the corners of my mind
pen scratches on paper, ten thousand poems
two hundred and seventy-two
little golden lights, 4 walls
that mirror my soul.
-
pain of indifference
At the hurl of a storm, the tree collapses.
Stagnant from then on, broken. Such an easy thing to be.
In the unpredicted wind, it sways
back and forth on its trunk, tendons straining
-
january to july
in the months of darkness and cold, i never stopped writing.
i just kept it all to myself. every night, my own religion
pages of pen poised on paper, pouring my heart out
Comments
elise.writer, your writing is anything but laughable! The note you ended this on, that's the right conclusion: The thing to do is carry on living -- and carry on writing! Your poetry warms our hearts, and we only wish we still published a weekly page in the Burlington Free Press. I'm sorry that opportunity is no longer available. But I love seeing that today, you wrote a poem.
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