Scribbles from my notebook

Someone reminded me not long ago that I used to write poems. And I haven't done that for so long, in fact not since the last one I posted here on CC.

So I sat down with a notebook and decided to try it again, and though what came out was small and silly and still disregarding of any kind of formal structure (which I would be over the moon about being skilled enough to able to write in someday) I still felt pleased at the feeling I get from playing with words and sounds, or trying to at least.

So here is my effort for today.





1.

A bird cracks the morning open like an egg
the yellows spills out, pushing me forth
bleary-eyed from the shadows of my bed

through my window the wind carries in it
from somewhere across the lot,
a world humming small stories
of

old cars that are grumble-grumbling
hordes of strangers talking, walking
trees with fingers, creaking, speaking
the chorus of a symphony,
a familiar morning song
of

children sweetly singing, grining
a million chimes a-tinkling, spinning
cell phones loudly ringing, begining
the chorus of a symphony,
a familiar morning song
of

friendly dogs that are barking, marking
crazy parents shouting, clouting
Me in my bedroom laughing, dancing to

the chorus of that symphony,
a familiar morning song.

My very first attempt at a villanelle. I'm glad I followed the basic structure and of that I am pleased. If there is anyone out there who could offer any constructive critique, I'd appreciate it!



2.

My dreams follow me from sleep to wake,
So I carry them carefullly wherever I go,
over perilous mountain and darkened lake.

Shielding myself from angry hands that take,
I journey through hellish tunnels below;
my dreams following me from sleep to wake.

Though everyday I feel my heart might break
running from loving mouths still telling me "no"
over perilous mountain and darkened lake -

It is their world I'll never fully placate
for though I agree to move slower than slow,
my dreams always follow me from sleep to wake.

So if you turn your eyes, you see your own fate,
be prepared to flee fast from your foe
over perilous mountain and darkened lake

And as we grow tired, and day grows late
we'll take solace, pointing out the ways in which we grow
by always following our dreams, whether asleep or awake,
over the darkened moutains and those perilous lakes.