What follows are a few poems from my college years. That comes off as an apology no matter how I phrase it. It's not. Despite being as puerile as baby powder, there's something intriguing in the haphazard assemblage of a painfully adolescent mind. Then again, I'm not including the absolute worst offenders. Eh.
"When I feel alive"
This is when I feel alive--
when the Sun is going down
and the clouds have donned their fiery caps
ablaze with the pinks and purples of clowns--
with her right by my side
and no one else around
I hear the sounds, the songs,
I see something as the sunlight
crooks a finger towards the night--
here now, just before all the colors fray
before the green is just another shade of gray
when the sky is blue and bleeding pleas to stay
that is when I feel alive--
just before I fade
"Lonely silent"
in the darkness I sit
and murmur at the wind whistling
in from out my window
i tell it my dreams and wishes
to be carried far from where
i sit worrying about the sunrise
the wind grows silent as my voice
quiets and the moon swallows
the air in a giant breath
i sit alone in darkness
and in silence ponder fear--
the fear of lingering, lonely silent death
Bonus -- An Essay
You can call it style, or voice or the finger of god but every person has his or her own way of saying something. The trick to writing is that not everyone is saying anything in a way worth paying attention. A writer is not only someone who knows himself better than others know themselves, he knows them just as well.
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