Writing Journal

First off, I've been an utter failure with making 2012: Year of the Poem. I've gotten a few pretty good ones, I'll admit, but highly doubt I'm anywhere near the 366 I wanted.  I'm so far behind, I might not even add them up.

And I haven't been doing all that great at reading poems after every book I read, either.  Part of that's because I've had to slog through all my reading.  Part of it's because I forgot, though.  Yeah.  To be fair, the forgetfulness happened because it was November and I was excited about starting my annual re-read of O! Pioneers.

Last week, I went to the grocery store...I forget why, exactly, but I had an experience there.  I started composing a few lines about it to post as a clever little facebook status, but then I got long-winded.  So I'll put it here.  As with most all of my other poems, it's open for title suggestions.

(This is the raw version, the one mostly scratched out in my car......at stoplights....of course....)
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After finding my own peace of mind,
I went to the store, and what did I find?
My energy gels in flavors galore!
And then books were on sale,
So I picked out four.
One for my roommate,
And then three for me.
(It's abou ttime we put up the tree.)
And then right there, at the end of the aisle,
Was the perfect big gift
To make my Secret Friend smile.

All of these things I was so glad to find.
And after all this, I was still glad to find
When I went up to pay,
There was not a line!
She scanned half my things as I dug through my purse,
'Twas then that I saw things turn for the worse.
My wallet--have mercy on me!
My wallet was gone--oh, where could it be?!

I scoured my memory, then left like a jerk,
For my wallet, I realized, had been left at work.

Writing Journal

So I've been a slacker on writing a poem a day. (I figured I'd have dry days, which is why the precise goal is 366 this year.) It's the 9th and I've only counted 6. Although I may have one or two I don't remember in a notebook at home and I almost thought a list of Wheel of Fortune puzzle answers was some wierd, abstract poem I had written. Although that does give me an idea for future inspiration...

Anyway, today, I'm going to freestyle. Disclaimer: This may be a little obscure to some readers and all too clear for others. I wish there was some other way, but I've learned that I can only put so many emotions into one bottle before it explodes like a Molotov Cocktail. (And I totally call dibs on that imagery.)

(Title Suggestions?)
I don't know whether I should laugh or cry.

The sinister side says to laugh.
After all, the olive branch has made her shy.
Why else the lack of response?
The immediate turn of the glance?

The sensitive side says to cry.
After all, I couldn't ask for a hug goodbye.
Why else but for her coldness?
The thickening tension in the room?

-----------------
Well, that was easier and quicker than I thought it would be.

Writing Journal

*murrrrrrgh*


That's how I felt about this poem. See, I decline any desire to have any association with what have been described as "nerdy franchises." Not with the people, per se, actually, definintely not with the people. Some of my best friends are obsessed with nerdy franchises. Harry Potter, LOTR, Star Wars/Trek, mostly. My experience is intentionally very limited with each of those. No real good reason, to be honest. We all have quirks we can't explain; I just happen to have chosen this as mine.





Less than a month before a friend's birthday, I saw that someone at work had some Star Wars they wanted to sell. So I bought their copies of II and III, confident my friend's limited DVD collection didn't include these.





Well, with the Project Poem Project I've set for myself, I had to write a poem to accompany the gift. Please be advised that since it's supposed to be this "off."

Spacy Thoughts

When I finally met your (City Name) Biker gang,
Not a one of them was mean.
Yoda is green.

TSO was a great big blast!
You still owe me a set-up—Whadd’ya Know?
How close are you with Hans Solo?

We had just crossed the bridge when you gave me the news:
My car could go no farther.
Luke, I am your father.

When you took a girl to see Pink Floyd live,
Your teenaged dream came more than true.
May the force be with you.

In prepping for my first big ride,
You sold and showed me your slicks.
This has been a Jedi mind trick.

Now you have the second,
And you have also the third.
Jabba the Hut looks like a turd.

Writing Journal

My church is holding an activity for the General Relief Society Broadcast this Saturday. We decided to send out postcards to remind some of our sisters who haven't been getting reminders on Sundays. This is the poem I included with mine.

Get all dolled up in a cute little skirt
And join your sisters for a little dessert.
7 pm is when it all starts.
So please come prepared
To hear stories meant to touch our hearts.

Yeah, not my best.
But it got the job done.

Writing Journal

I've decided I like doing what I call "Project Poems."


Kind of Hallmarky sort of things, I guess.


Similar to a homework assignment, there are certain things I tell myself I have to work into the poem. Doing so provides me with a structure to work within, which results in me enjoying my poetry a little more. And that way, too, it's not art just for art's sake.

For this one, I gave someone a CD from the band Riverside as a gift of gratitude and thought I'd include a poem incorporating the names of some of the songs. I also colored rainbows on some paper and wrapped it before putting it in the envelope. (You'll understand when you get to the end of the poem).

The Ultimate Trip: From Fearland to Fearless
Words alone are not enough
To thank you for helping
With something so tough
As a Schizophrenic Prayer.

Through the Other Side of the phone,
You saved me from Parasomnia
And I somehow felt less alone
When I emerged from my 02 Panic Room.

Nope. Words, they still won't do,
Even though I've tried.
So I'll say it with a song or two
Wrapped inside the Rainbow Box.

Writing Journal

Rain and Sunshine*
There's a storm cloud up above me
And it's darkening my halo.**
I have to wait for the rain to stop
Before I see my rainbow.

Many times I failed to hurt
Because I failed to see
The bad parts inside of you
And the good inside of me.

You didn't want to hurt me;
I never thought you would.
But now I see that I was wrong
To never think you could.

There's a storm cloud up above me
And it's darkening my halo.
I have to wait for the rain to stop
Before I see my rainbow.

I'm sitting here, not crying
Over how you treated me.
It now becomes my fervent hope
That someday you will see

The storm cloud up above me
That is darkening my halo.
I cannot wait for the rain to stop
So you can see my rainbow.

The next time that you see me,
I won't feel so alone.
Some other man may find me
And earn my pot of gold.

But even if he does not come,
The storm was not in vain.
Think of all the gardens grown
Every time it's rained.

Now there's no more clouds above me,
So it's clear to see my halo.
And now that the rain has stopped,
I finally found my rainbow.


*If you know me, you know I'm terrible with titles. And will always ask, if not beg, for suggestions and/or ideas.
**I promise this was not inspired by Porcupine Tree's "Halo." I had completely forgotten about any knowledge I may or may not have had about that song until Saturday, March 26, and I wrote the poem before that.
Although...hearing it over the weekend did cause me to come back to this, which led to my changing a line I didn't really like.




Now for the rest of the story... A blogger whose blog I stalk, er, read, gave me some advice on a situation. Advice it took me a while to follow. The premise of this poem was the premise of her messages to me. Writing it was very theraputic to me in terms of dealing with some of the choices I had made and actions that had been taken. I had hoped that it would answer one of the questions I still had for myself about the situation, but it didn't. Maybe the next one will.

Writing Journal (Day 10)

Friday, I conjured up a plan involving entering an apartment and removing thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. That plan involved a ransom note. Which I took it upon myself to turn into a ransom poem (with a clever title, I might add). I wish I had had the time to turn it into couplets because I'm really not a fan of the rhyme scheme I used.

Ransom Poem
Take a look around
And soon I'm sure you'll find
Your books cannont be found.

Please be warned: don't call the cops;
Your books are safe and sound,
Sitting in boxes once kept by the mops.

Don't you worry,
And don't you fret,
This was not done in a hurry.

Your books are being cared for
Just off the cul-de-sac
At (I'm not posting the address).

To see them once more,
You'll have to drive
To a house with a (color) door.

If you don't know who we are by now,
You don't deserve to know,
And we'll be trading you in for a pet cow.

____________________________

The story behind this is that, after I had constructed the library and realized it was missing such a large part of it, I had told SH that someday she would come home and all of her books would be gone. Well, when she told me on Friday that she wouldn't be back from out of town until Sunday afternoon before work, the light bulb went off. So I gathered a couple of accompliases and we became felon booknappers.

Which I hope explains why I skipped Day 11 of the challenge....