Then and Now

Hmm.. wrote this poem in the 9th grade. Heh.. that was a long time ago. I had a fascination with the Renaissance period, and I had a problem facing a boy I had a crush on. He had one on me too, that *sshole... I guess we were both trapped in our preteen low self-confidences. Basically, this poem is about being confined, both by your own fear aswell as the fear of another. I don't really know what I was trying to say in about 60% of this, but somehow it makes sense to me now, about 3 and a half years later... sheesh (obviously I have touched up a few things since 9th grade..)


Mexican Standoffs.
When the bridge is all that stands,
When tigers are feet from their unwitting prey,
Who's blood will dry on which one's hands?
Who's stare will be the first to fray?

Who's pride will cave from the heart's decay?

Pencil's lead is blunt and dull,
And ink pens never seem befit.
Eyes are straying from the paper,
Back to why this fuse was lit.

Back to the bitter muse's wit.

Queen Bloody Mary was afraid.
She let her fortune fade in flashes;
Destoryed her honor bit by bit,
And watched it burn to somber ashes.

This prior blunder beats and bashes.

In Mexican standoffs One's rarely not shot,
But heed my words, O unlikely twin;
For, I assure you, I vow with my soul,
No bullets of mine will tear your skin.

Only by death will I ever give in.

...And one written a few months ago. I have been told that this poem has too much symbolism and too few concrete ideas, however I think that the symbol adds much to the theme of this piece.

Ever felt like someone else's project?



An embodied coloring-book:

The novelty for a child, jaded
Or the work of an artistic mastermind?

The pages
permeate with figures, void
Perhaps, outlines are best left empty.

A brilliant composition;
Crayola spills forth in a primitive fashion -
marks strategically placed on each organic blueprint.

The silhouettes,
once so prominently contrasting their surroundings,
now stand debased in the name of creative voice.

Hmm...
A matter of opinion, certainly...
Is "Ever felt like someone else's project?" the title?

I'll answer more later. I would like to spend more time thinking about what the poem is saying.

It is not the title. It doesn't really have a title. That was just a little more insight towards the theme of the poem.

Sometimes I wonder if spirits of past lives enter us when we are emotional and give us words to write.

I had gotten into a fight with my sister once, and this is what I wrote:

http://www.theinsideout.us/RogPoems/blindmanslane.html

As you see it has absolutely nothing to do with my sister, but it's one of the best poems I've written.

Concerning the second poem, I would have to agree with the critics, it doesn't sound like its finished.

I used to keep a folder of half written poems. Everyonce in awhile I would pull it out, and I could come with some excellent stuff by sometimes piecing two or three of them together.

I need to get back to my writing. It used to be that I would feel bad until I wrote a poem and then I would feel better as if I had to write something.

Ofcourse now that I'm married, it's kinda of difficult. Women talk a lot and they always want you to listen. This last poem I wrote while she was shopping. But would I really want to live alone (don't think so) so we tolerate, it's good for you, builds character.

Anyways, Excellent poem, I really like it, I bet if you tried, you could publish it.

I find that it flows beautifully if I am in an abstract, somewhat detached state of mind, so maybe there is a way for you to draw the reader into the embodiment of the coloring book. Am I making any sense?

I agree, I am not sure it is finished either, which is why it is (at this point) untitled.