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.

It Remains

It Remains

These seasons will change

As moments melt to the next

And one day these things

We call our own

Will be laid out in the trash

One day these tears we cry

From bitter hurts and pains

Will simply be a memory

Eclipsed by newfound joy

One day theses scars will be no more

And all hopes shall be met

Faith will have reason to live

And life will never end

And with this life forever,

Beautiful, and bright,

Will be the one that never ends

For Love

Will remain

"Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away." -1 Corinthians 13:8

Most everything will be gone one day.... Faith will have reason behind it, so it will be more than faith alone. Hopes will be fulfilled. But Love? Love will only grow. Forever. In eternity and even here on earth, love will only grow and become deeper as we get to know the Lord, Who Himself is Love, better.

 

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Poem Response 26

A Minor Bird

I have wished a bird would fly away,

And not sing by my house all day;

                                                  Have clapped my hands at him from the door

When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

                                                      The fault must partly have been in me.

The bird was not to blame for his key.

                                                 And of course there must be something wrong

In wanting to silence any song. 

-Robert Frost 

Found at: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-minor-bird/

Oh my goodness, I love this poem. I mean, sometimes it seems like I can get so caught up in something and forget what it is that I really love. I can end up killing the very joys I treasure! I get in my own way, and trip over my own feet, and if I'd just take a step back and realize that the things I'm over thinking and scrutinizing are really the things that make me happiest, then... I'd simplify my life. a lot. 

The last stanza is my favorite. I like the way he says it! "And of course there must be something wrong in wanting to silence any song".... It's perfect. And mesa like. A lot.

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Alive

Alive

A new day was arising

The sun called to me

The world was alive

Dew covered the grass

Like tear drops of joy

A new day was arising

The sky was blue

Without a single cloud

The sun called to me

My toes squished in the dirt

I smelled the lilies of the valley

The world was alive

Now, granted, this is less than my favorite poem. But! I do like where I mind went as I wrote it. Read it over a few times... due to the form, I had a very limited number of words, but if you read in between the lines, I hope you can explore the world of new spring described in this poem.

I imagined waking up, and seeing the sun shining through my open window, getting up, walking, to find myself outside, barefooted. For some reason, I'm wearing some sort of nightgown... I don't wear nightgowns. They're gross. But for the sake of day dreaming, I'm wearing one... My toes are in the dirt, sinking in beside all the fresh flowers sprouting up from the mist-covered ground... there is a field, and as I turn my upraised face to the right, I see it. Lilies galore. I breathe. Peace fills the moment. Spring is here. The world is alive.

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Desire

Desire

My life is in chains

Life; in a bottle

Desire

Seeking an escape


This poem was meant to express the simple yet extraordinary feeling of being trapped. I'd read the poem, "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings", and it left a certain impression on me. The assignment was to, again, make a poem out of titles from other authors. So, out of a page-long list, came this. The first three lines were titles, and the last line was from my own self. And now you know.

Broken Distance

 

Broken Distance

For a moment they stood

Silence filled the

Tranquil Twilight

Where the simple memory

Of a broken heart

Enveloped the distance

Between them

Where excitement once lived,

Ignited by starlit love,

Now stands

Only broken friends

The truth continues to dance

Proclaiming the change

Neither truly wanted

Tears begin to slip

She avoids his pained gaze

Her slender hand trembling

As she thought,

“My greatest fear came true

The day he whispered

“And still, we can be wrong…””

Doubt can be one of the scariest, hardest things to overcome. Every time we make a choice, especially a big choice, doubt tends to make its way into the folds of our minds. When we let it take root, it can ruin things- cause us to ruin things- that, when we are really honest with ourselves, we truly wanted to fight for.

I wrote this poem in class. The assignment was to write a poem using 3 of the 5 previously selected poem titles from each of our classmates. We had to have a poem title in at least every other line. As I looked over the titles, the title, “And still, we can be wrong…” stood out to me. The rest of the titles continued writing a story that filled the page within moments.

I didn’t think I’d like writing poems like this, by taking titles of other poems and making them into a totally different poem. But, I have really liked what I have written from this form! And that’s about all I’ve got! I hope you have a good day.

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Poem Response 25

A Noiseless Patient Spider

-Walt Witman

A noiseless, patient spider,
I mark’d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,—seeking the spheres, to connect them;
Till the bridge you will need, be form’d—till the ductile anchor hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

Found at: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-noiseless-patient-spider/

“Gossamer” is a cool word. I like it. A lot. And because I didn’t know what it meant, I looked it up! And then found the word “Diaphanous”! Both of which are words that I am now simply waiting around to use!

And no, I’m not going to tell you what they mean. Go look them up yourself. Because it’s fun.

This poem was a bit awkward to read at first, for me at least. Maybe it was the simplest thing in the world for you to read! But for me, it was harder. I finally got the rhythm of it after a bit, and I read it through a second time, and I liked it more after that.

It seems like the author is saying how we must be patient for the things we want, be they situations, opportunities, etc. We have to simply wait for them, and in the mean time, prepare ourselves for the moment when our “gossamer thread…. Catch somewhere” because if we are prepared, we’ll be able to fly with the wind.

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Poem Response 24

Annabel Lee

-Edgar Allen Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea

Found at: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/annabel-lee/

This is SUCH a good poem! It’s so sad yet so beautiful at the same time… Edgar Allen Poe is pretty good about writing sad stuff. He’s sort of a downer. But he does write so beautifully that it does make up for his bad habit of killing people off!

“But the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee”

I just love that…

There’s something unique about missing someone when you know you can’t see them. Death is one of those things… even for Christians who have the promise of “one day” seeing them again, knowing that they aren’t going to be there until that day? It seems like every inanimate object tries its best to fill up the place that they once took.

That seems to be what he is feeling in this poem. All of his surroundings are calling to him in a way that she once did; reminding him of the place she once filled. It’s so sad, yet, at the same time it is… right.

If you’re someone worth remembering, then when you’re gone, I think the people you leave behind should have the whole world trying to fill up the hole that you alone complete.

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Poem Response 23

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

-Maya Angelou

The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Found at: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-know-why-the-caged-bird-sings/

“The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

But longed for still”

I believe that’s my favorite part of this poem.

I think there is a part in all living things that knows how things should be. In Wild animals that have been tamed, there is still a part of them that seems to play with their natural instincts, sometimes leading previously domesticated animals to be released in a facility akin to “the wild” just so they may be free to act upon the things they do by instinct alone. In children from tumultuous homes, they seek out peaceful places, people or things to give that the security they don’t know they need. People who have been unloved look for Love, but call it by a different name. People who are empty look to be filled, and usually they have no idea they are doing any such thing.

We all have a good idea of what we “should” have and who we “should” be. Unfortunately, this world makes that sort of perfection absolutely impossible, save for one thing. Jesus Christ.

He makes those impossibilities possible.

We just have to be smart enough to act on our instincts and trust the One who really is greater than ourselves to become the people and have the situations we know we really should have.

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Poem Response 22

I wandered lonely as a cloud

William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Found at: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-wandered-lonely-as-a-cloud/

The imagery in this poem is fantastic. He so easily paints the picture of a field of daffodils dancing. I love that word. “dancing”. It’s a perfect word for poems to hold within the lines of their beings. It’s synonymous with “elegant movement”, “graceful waves” or, “gentle breathes of motion”. It captures… everything! And I love to use it to bring to life words that would normally be left stationary on the page.

Words can so easily be dead on the page. To make them more than words, sentences, phrases and lifeless ideas, you need something to bring them to life! Words like “dancing” add that something extra special. The words come alive, and fill the mind of the person whose path has crossed that of the distant author’s.

Poem Response 21

Sick

by Shel Silverstein

"I cannot go to school today,"

Said little Peggy Ann McKay.

"I have the measles and the mumps,

A gash, a rash and purple bumps.

My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,

I'm going blind in my right eye.

My tonsils are as big as rocks,

I've counted sixteen chicken pox

And there's one more--that's seventeen,

And don't you think my face looks green?

My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--

It might be instamatic flu.

I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,

I'm sure that my left leg is broke--

My hip hurts when I move my chin,

My belly button's caving in,

My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,

My 'pendix pains each time it rains.

My nose is cold, my toes are numb.

I have a sliver in my thumb.

My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,

I hardly whisper when I speak.

My tongue is filling up my mouth,

I think my hair is falling out.

My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,

My temperature is one-o-eight.

My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,

There is a hole inside my ear.

I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?

What's that? What's that you say?

You say today is. . .Saturday?

G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

Found at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16480

Have you ever felt like saying some of these things? I certainly have. Frequently. Suddenly school comes around, and you find that you might be a little more aware of that ache in your shoulder, or that runny nose… Sometimes you almost wish you had a terrible case of the flu, so you could just lie in bed and drift back into dream world…

Or at least, I do anyway.

I really like my bed. We’re friends.

Best.

Friends.

Except he is a really bad influence on me, and takes away my drive to do anything productive. Which is really my fault, since my  drive to do stuff can’t be THAT big if waking up is all it takes for the desire to be gone…

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Poem Response 20

Eating Poetry
Mark Strand

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.

There is no happiness like mine.

I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.

Her eyes are sad

and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.

The light is dim.

The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,

their blond legs burn like brush.

The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.

When I get on my knees and lick her hand,

she screams.

I am a new man.

I snarl at her and bark.

I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

Found at: http://poetryoutloud.org/poem/237702

This poem disturbs me.

I mean, sure, don’t we all love poetry, yay us. But seriously? This is a bit much.

And what is “the bookish dark”? How can a dark be ‘bookish’? Scary, surreal, deep, forboding, mysterious, ironic, those are all fine adjectives! I just really don’t understand! So, here’s me thought. If you have an idea as to what a “Bookish Dark” could mean, you should tell me! Write a comment, and help me out some here! It’ll be fun! Poetry is always more fun when you experience it with other people. And if anything else sticks out to you, (Like the first line to me “Ink runs from the corners of my mouth” it’s delightful!) Tell me that too! And we can make this fun, mildly disturbing poem into something really fun!

Poem Response 19

The Arrow and the Song
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I shot an arrow into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For, so swiftly it flew, the sight

Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For who has sight so keen and strong,

That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak

I found the arrow, still unbroke;

And the song, from beginning to end,

I found again in the heart of a friend

Found at: http://poetryoutloud.org/poem/173890


I really like this poem. His flow is fantastic, the rhyme scheme is surprisingly easy, his words sound like lace, and the poem as a whole is simply marvelous.

I wish I knew what his song was about…

Have you ever had one of those moments where a thought you had forever ago is suddenly brought to mind, and it forms new clarity because of an experience? Or a feeling you thought was long since gone is re-awakened when someone from the past walks into your life again?

I feel like that is what his song was about… a thought or a feeling, and as it left his lips, it sort of slipped away into his past, as he continued forward. He forgot about it, almost, until one day he found a friend and the song was alive in them.

This poem is just cool to me.

The Unknown

The Unknown

One can always tell

When he lingers nearby

Clad in foreboding shades

Which glimmer for the joyful eye

Dwelling beneath darkness

Residing around the bend

Dancing with Hope’s willowy frame

Harmonizing Fear’s laments

He speaks as a quiet whisper

In the corner of a lonely room

Promising life changes

Of untold fortune

After you first meet him

You feel completely lost and alone

As you watch him captivate

A treasure that felt like home

He isn’t all evil

Simply unstable, unsure

And after you encounter him

You’ll be better than before

For, through pain he makes strong

The beating of a broken heart

He opens your eyes to others’ pain

For you have been where they are

He makes you grow, reach, and stretch

And though the process is painful

But one day, you will look and see

That the scars make you beautiful

The unknown is such a scary place in our lives. I really don’t like it. I genuinely like to know what’s going on in my life! So, when I find myself caught in that moment of, “Oh gracious… what is happening…” It’s really easy to feel like you’ll be there forever. And you tend to skip back and forth between fear and faith, hope and reason, reality and what you see beyond this moment. Sometimes it is so easy to get caught up in the here and now, that we forget that… in 24 hours, today will be yesterday…. And soon, it will be last week, then last month, then last year… then “That bad time several years ago”… but we’ll never be in it forever. Every second brings us one step closer to the end of this chapter and the beginning of a new page.

That’s one of the things I love about life… it’s always going…

This poem format is a,b,c,b,d,e,f,e, etc. so basically, every other line rhymes!

I hope you enjoyed!

Never Stop

 

Never Stop

She had gorgeous, star-filled eyes

And adored long-winded love letters

Butterflies filled her constant daydreams

Where love was a thought she could savor

She’d never been touched by its fragile wings

Her heart was unbroken, unchipped

She’s never fallen head-over-heels

Her heart: a beat never skipped

He’d been broken uncountable times

Pain was his ever-present friend

His soul hid beneath a hardened shell

He’d become a master of playing pretend

Their meeting was accidental

Somewhat awkward, at best

He, in dirty jeans and greasy hair,

Ran into her neatly pressed sundress

A curse left her perfect lips

As her glass vase hit the concrete

A pale hand flew to her astonished face

As it shattered to bits about their feet

Apologies seeped from her every pore

‘Till finally his laughter cut her off

Somehow she ended up in his arms

As he tried to make the apologies stop

They separated awkwardly

Then he offered to walk her home

The sky was quickly growing dark

She didn’t mind not being alone

They window shopped along the way

He asked to replace the broken glass

She waved him off, which was good

He’d offered money he didn’t have

On that day, that first day of love

Their hearts melted along with the sun

They talked and laughed about everything

Neither knew they’d found their one

Days to weeks, weeks to months

Moments blurred into the following

Seasons changed from Spring’s new Life

To the sound of Winter’s wind blowing

His deep, easy laugh filled her dreams

And she loved the look his eyes held

In moments where nothing was said

His eyes proclaimed all the words he felt

She wished she could always live

Forever and ever, for the rest of her days

Inside the precious, passionate love

That he expressed within his gaze

Her bright eyes made his dark days shine

In his arms she felt safe and warm

Her smile became his silver lining

And his secrets called her heart ‘home’

Christmas lights lined the frozen streets

Snow blanketed the frostbitten ground

A fireplace warmed the two lovers

His whispered singing, the only sound

Her head pressed gently against his chest

From her mouth escaped a small sigh

He stilled his voice as she quietly said

‘If God took me now, I wouldn’t mind”

Silently, he stared at her

Melting her heart along with the snow

Then, pressing his lips to her trembling ones,

Was the most tender kiss either had known

After a while, he stood up to go

His arms releasing her beautiful form

As his truck gave a rumble, he smiled goodbye

And drove into the snowstorm

She lay in bed, he filled her mind

As she pulled her sheets up close

Sleep flirted with her dancing eyelids

Until then the phone rang and she awoke

Groggily, she put the phone to her ear

Then heard the words she’d never forget

“He’s been in a bad accident

It doesn’t look good, get here quick”

In a haze she walked into his room

There was talking, but the words were lost

As she looked at his broken body

O’re his head, bandages were crossed

She grasped his hand. He met her gaze

Scared tears slipped from her eyes

He leaned her cheek to his own,

And whispered, “Come on, Silly, don’t cry”

Then, to his jacket on the chair,

He motioned with his weakened hand

Quietly, she reached for it, gave it to him

Though she truly did not understand

From its pocket he revealed

A ring with a diamond on top

And Just before the loud, constant beep

He breathed, “My love for you will never stop”

I’ve always had an odd attraction to beautiful tragedy. There are many types of tragedy that I dislike intensely, but bittersweet tragedy has always been a point of interest for me….

I wrote this poem because of a friend who showed me a website that had sad short stories. One story was about a woman whose boyfriend had told her not to open her Christmas gift until Christmas day. He passed away soon after, and she waited 7 years to open the package…

Inside laid a ring.

I wanted to cry so hard when I read it… The story was so sweet, but at the same time so heartbreaking…

I wanted to write a story like that of my own! I wanted to take people down a journey of love and happiness, where it ended with the promise of forever, even if one of the people is gone…

So, I began to write, and above is the finished product.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you have a great day.

  

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