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elsajeniAt Ram's request I am posting the poem I used for my "behavioral self-portrait" (English homework, very vague and annoying). Please comment on it. (If you have nothing more to say than "this peom sucks ha ha," however, please do not comment on it. Especially if you're like me and you're going to spell "poem" wrong.)
i would be a bird, a waterbird, free and floating
and making my annual journey without interruption
my whole life spent in the air
and floating,
but i am the only one who can know
my stories, my dreams,
the dreams in which i walk alone and watch
in cities i have never seen before,
the dreams in which i lie in meadow grass imagining
and the rain never stops or slows
on the winter days when everything slows and stops
i write down all the old stories and try
to remember every detail of the conversation
we had last summer, you saying what if we had never met,
every motion of your hands and the smallest inflection
of your voice, and
i think back to the nights that you and i
laid out on the beach, in the meadow, and one night
on the hood of your car, looking up,
and meteors streaked across the sky,
and i remember the time in the airplane
when i saw one out the window, so close
i envy your sister who lives easily,
who doesn't see the panel of judges
waiting around every corner,
who never has to check to be sure she's
doing it right, and then you tell me
she envies me the love i have;
is everyone's life made up of envy
and tragedies and restless dreams, and
am i the only one who walks all night?
every story
comes from a half-finished dream
(By the way, I feel it's worth mentioning that I hate hate hate writing in all-lowercase like that, but it was actually required for this assignment. I'm not trying to be artsy. I am, in fact, driving myself berserk by doing that.)
i would be a bird, a waterbird, free and floating
and making my annual journey without interruption
my whole life spent in the air
and floating,
but i am the only one who can know
my stories, my dreams,
the dreams in which i walk alone and watch
in cities i have never seen before,
the dreams in which i lie in meadow grass imagining
and the rain never stops or slows
on the winter days when everything slows and stops
i write down all the old stories and try
to remember every detail of the conversation
we had last summer, you saying what if we had never met,
every motion of your hands and the smallest inflection
of your voice, and
i think back to the nights that you and i
laid out on the beach, in the meadow, and one night
on the hood of your car, looking up,
and meteors streaked across the sky,
and i remember the time in the airplane
when i saw one out the window, so close
i envy your sister who lives easily,
who doesn't see the panel of judges
waiting around every corner,
who never has to check to be sure she's
doing it right, and then you tell me
she envies me the love i have;
is everyone's life made up of envy
and tragedies and restless dreams, and
am i the only one who walks all night?
every story
comes from a half-finished dream
(By the way, I feel it's worth mentioning that I hate hate hate writing in all-lowercase like that, but it was actually required for this assignment. I'm not trying to be artsy. I am, in fact, driving myself berserk by doing that.)
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(no subject)
Date: 2002-08-22 09:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2002-08-24 06:08 am (UTC)