Nostalgic

Oh, how I long

For days of long ago

How I wish

We could go back

I wish we lived

In the days

Of yesteryear

How great that would be

Poem to Me

Please forgive me
I've been so broken
Please forgive me
For the words I've spoken

I don't know how
To prevent your cry
I don't know how
To not live a lie

Speak...Now!!!

Oh tell me, tell me
Why it seems
Things that happen
Aren’t taken seriously

Talking is what goes on
No communication at all
Explaining again and again
Never understanding

Say something to me
How should I reply
Or is it really important
You’ll roll right over it

Listening is good
Using your ears is grand
So why does no one do so
Why can’t it be had

When will I be heard
Do I have to scream
Will it matter when it’s worse
How bad until you see

I can’t talk
And so I lose
Lose my trust, my truth
Lose my everything, lose you

Old poem: I want to say 1.5 years ago but it might have been longer.

I've figure out how to talk. I can say at least half of what I mean now. It isn't always enough. But it's more than before. And people are more understanding and wait for the other half.

Hopefully, I won't lose my truth. Or my people.

Standstill?

I don't know what to say.

I guess that means I shouldn’t blog. But I promised myself I would blog twice a week and I won't lie to myself again.

I missed Tuesday's poem because I forgot all about it. I will post a poem this Tuesday.

I'm excited that Spring Break is over. But I don't want to go to school.

I've got all these story ideas. But I don't want to tell it wrong.

I want to go out and do things. But I also want to sleep all day.

But I don't want to sleep. The nightmares are getting worse. I don't think I've had a single pleasant dream in two weeks.

I wish I could stay up all night and write, read, watch tv. Anything but sleep.

I'm sick of feeling anxious when I wake up. Anxious over the things my brain has conjured up. I'm sick of feeling anxious as I go to sleep. Anxious about what dreams I might have and how they'll ruin my morning.

I'm glad for the people who make waking up worth it. I'm happy to know these amazing people.

I want to keep moving. And being able to say that is a much better state than I used to be in.

P.S. Lang Leav is my new favorite poet.

Poetry

It's National Poetry Month.

I'll post one of my own poems every Tuesday to observe the month. I'll add a poem of a famous poet or a yet unknown poet to every post. But only if it supports the message of the post.

To me, poetry is a free flowing means of sharing thought. There’s sonnets, free verse, epics, ballads, couplets, haiku, limericks, odes, quatrains, and so much more. I love that you can choose your art form. It allows the poet to show different sides of their artistry.

And poems, like books, can be interpreted differently. The reader has some guidelines and suggestions based on the words written. But the reader brings their own experiences and understandings to the poem.

I love that there is a month dedicated to this beautiful literary genre.

I fall in love regularly

Question of the day: What would you do if you had 24 hours to live?

This question came up at a family dinner recently. My answer was that everyone I knew should come find me so I could tell them what I thought of them. This is ridiculous because it would be impossible. But I do wish I told people what I thought of them. I wish I walked about sharing my opinion more freely.

I have thoughts about everyone I see. As I mentioned in "Falling out of love," I care about everyone I come across. I find one thing I like about them and form a bond. And then they continue on their merry way without ever knowing my thoughts. If sadly, I only had 24 hours to live, I would shout my affections at the top of my lungs. En route to my family and friends, I would talk to every stranger.

I remember everyone:
I think about the guy on the bus who shared an awkward smile with me.
I think about my local cashier who recognizes me and sincerely asks how I'm doing.
I think about the girl I haven't seen in 5 years, who made school tolerable and lunch fun.
I think of the mom and toddler I kept bumping into at the grocery store.

Which brings me to this poem

I fall in love regularly,
with each person whom
passes me in the streets,
or who sits beside me on the bus.
Not in the romantic way;
No, we hardly even speak
a word to each other.
But I sit, quietly observing
all of their body language and all of
their expressions.
Their smiles, and gestures;
the way they lift their coffee,
or smile as they read
that new text message,
or count the change in their hands.
I watch vigilantly, tracking
the manners and movements,
and appreciating all that
these people are.
I spend some time thinking about
their families and lives,
and the lives that they lead.
I consider what they might do
for work, and what they
went to school for.
When they woke up that morning, and
how they did their hair.
I study the details of these people,
that may otherwise go unnoticed.
Researching each of them,
noticing our similarities, and
rejoicing in
the beauty of human nature

-Author unknown

I don't forget how I feel about people. If I haven't talked to you in a while don't think I don’t care. But know that I think of you often. I'm always rooting for you.