"How to be Alone" By April Klooster

This poem is not mine. My roommate, April Klooster, wrote it. It is bittersweet, and should be shared:

How to be Alone

Take his picture down

But that is not enough

Not for this one

You must also turn off all the lights.

This will keep his shadow from contrasting with the brightness

The way his darkness 

Used to clash against the lightness in your heart.

Don’t forget to close the window

So you won’t hear his voice in the breeze

When it passes the trees and sings to you,

A melancholy song

Another song of guilt.

Finally, take down your mirror

That is all you can do

About the way your face

Is a picture of the mark he left on your heart.

-April Klooster

February 2014

Whole

No matter the depth 

Of my pain

No matter the harm

of another's shame

As deep as wounds

Embed in my soul

Christ will reach farther

He will make me whole

-Melissa Lynne Moody

Remember the Lamppost

Remember the Lamppost

Silence fills the atmosphere 

Surrounding the lamppost bright

A single girl, standing alone

By the ring where blackness turns light

Rain begins drizzling lazily 

Her umbrella sounds a beat

Examining the world beyond her post

Longing for the sound of his feet

The flirtatious wind tousles her hair

To the post, she snuggles close

Hours have past and the more she stands

The more she loses hope

He said he'd come, but t'was a year ago

So maybe he'd found a girl

More elegant and lovely than she

And he realized that he preferred her

Maybe she was just silly and dumb

Standing like a fool in the rain

And just as she turned, she caught sight of his form

Running, shouting, "You came!" 

School's Out!

This post is solely to let you know that the school year is over and, though I may not be in highschool anymore, I will probably still be writing! I might post more on my other blog than this one, (It's Just Me) but I don't know yet. I haven't decided.

So anyway, I may not have all the responses to the poems and such, but you can totally ask what I was thinking if you want to!

Thank you for being a reader of mine. It's been a blessing.


-Melissa

Photograph

Photograph

An old, withered photograph

Captured the moment

He fell, forever, in love

I wrote this poem with the idea of an old photograph of a young girl. The story in my mind was a girl and a boy walking up a mountain, like on a day hike or something. She is laughing and he snaps a picture, but as he stares through the lens and her eyes look toward him, he realizes that this is the moment… This is the moment he started to fall…

Lonely Wanderer

Lonely Wanderer

I wandered,

Lonely as a cloud

Past the point

Where the sidewalk ends

To the road not taken

By one’s everyday man

Beyond the waste land

Where there is another sky

And I carry your heart with me

The poor ghost of your soul

Dancing alone

In this dream within a dream

This poem was also a title poem. The titles in this poem are “I wandered, lonely as a cloud”, “Where the sidewalk ends”, “The road not taken”, “the waste land”, “There is another sky”, “I carry your heart with me”, “The poor ghost”, and “ A dream within a dream”.

I’m not going to add anything about this poem down here. I really feel like this poem needs to simply be, and allow you to take it wherever you want to take it.

Poem Response 27

Somewhere I Have Never Traveled
e. e. cummings

somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, I and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(I do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

 Found at: http://www.johwey.com/2010/09/28/somewhere-i-have-never-traveled/ 

“Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands”…

I like that.

There was  a movie, “I’ll be Home for Christmas” that I watched several times a year every year at Christmas time when I was a little bit younger. In it, there was a girl being chased by two guys, one of which (the main character) was always messing up with her, but you could tell he really cared for her. The other (the not-as-main character who you didn’t want her to end up with) was charming, but self-absorbed and didn’t care for her so much.

The girl ended up riding in the car with the not-so-main character. He asked what it was that she saw in *the main character dude*. She replied, “I don’t know… He does little things, like, one time, he took my hands and looked at me and said, ‘not even the rain has such small hands’.” Not-so-main character scoffed, but then saw it had meant a lot to her, so he brushed her hair back behind her ear and said, “not even the corn has such big ears.”

I loved. That. Movie.

Anyway, I truly like this poem. A lot. In every line there seems to be an amazingly new way to describe this girl… what a lucky girl, you know? To have someone so enthralled in her that he would even think to write something like this. “in your most fail gesture are the things that enclose me”. I love that! It’s so… alive! It’s more than romantic, I mean, chocolate and flowers are romantic, but that? That’s different. It’s more than infatuation too… It seems to me that the words of this poem are describing real love. The feeling side of it, anyway…. It’s a beautiful picture, and I hope that one day someone will be that enthralled with me; and I in him.