Description: this all came out in a flurry, it's just stream of consciousness worrying about the tangled mess that is my life. God I want this whole year to just end, and for summer to end, and next year too.
uurrgh. I only write poems when I'm really depressed.
buzzard wake up call -------------------------------------------
my snowboots sideways by the door
crust of dried sleet-muck
doilying upward from the soles
I heard a song when I was asleep
and now it's snagged in my head
a kite in a tree
although I can't remember
and now the studying I've done
should come in hand, pen in hand
the page is full of meaningless words
like wet sand,
glooping away slowly
or drying on my palm,
to be stolen by the wind
and even though I bragged that I
never worry, life for me
is a suncoast dream of fizzy light
and rollerskates down a slight slope
even though I painted this
and tried to draw myself in too,
it's a lie, just a lie.
I worry more than I can say and
the only way to keep it at bay
is to snap my fingers, shake my leg
and think of something else instead
I wish a buzzard would scream in my ear
at least I'd know I'm not alone
In this gorgeous tropicana desert wasteland
Instead I'm dangling-
I'd rather fall
than never meet the ground at all.
kite in a tree, stuck, alone
wind cannot release it
no person walks by to see it there
streets are sidewalk, cement, hard
covered in a light layer of dust and sand
thou art not trying to draw up a good life
thou art wallowing in the desert
wishing for a buzzard wake up call?
thou must struggle up the mountain of despair, and reach the top, no matter how lame your legs of hopelessness may feel
and see the sun breaking free of golden chains of birth
waking up is yet to come
a wonderful poem. I think buzzards are very noisy. But they won't wake me up.
Keep up the good work!
This is quite bleak sounding, and imagery you employ reinforces that superbly (ex. first strophe). The third stanza sounds pretty fet up with school, and sure has a lot of "-and" in it. I like the first two repititions of hand, but the rhyme with sand is so, rapid? I don't know.
And it would appear your not as phlagmatic as you let on. I know someone like that, who pretends everything is okay, but inside is either freaking out of fuming. Sometimes that's me, actually lol
I don't really like the fifth stanza (how mean of me to say!). The rhyming feels a bit trite, and I think it's too telling after the stanza before. I think the last line of the fourth stanza is sufficient, especially since it nullifies and kind of makes opposite all the happy carefreeness that comes before "it's a lie, just a lie." If that makes sense.
I love "gorgeous tropicana desert wasteland," especially considering you're in blustery DC. And I also love the last stanza.
Bleak bleak bleak. Don't be bleak Kristen! Smile a big smile, drink hot chocolate, dance to some groovy music, and be anti-bleak~