My Thoughts Written in Black and White Part II

December 31, 2009

An Elegy Written on a Bale of Hay
I chose to write my elegy on the topic of when my father and I used to pick raspberries because it’s one of my favorite memories about us. It was what he and I did alone. No one else was included, and every time we went out to pick them, it seemed like the perfect day. This poem just has a lot of personal meaning behind it, and at the end when I say I’ve done the same thing with my son, that’s me hoping that this memory will play out again for me when I become a mother.

Ever so often on a clean, crisp day,
I stand and ponder some old things
We did before he went away,
Before he sailed the sky with wings.

A small girl stood on a bale of hay.
The tall man helped her pick her merries.
After being there long one day,
They go inside, hands red from berries.

That day – a perfect one –
Father and daughter did bond.
Laughter and loving fun
Have made them sincerely fond.

Now on days when the wind does carry,
I stand by that same bale of hay
Helping my son pick the self-same berry
My father and I picked day after day.

Found Poem
The Passing of a Storm
The original piece is from a wonderful book, All Quiet on the Western Front. When I chose the words in my prose piece, I sat there pondering them for a few minutes trying to think how all of these words related somehow. Then I though of all the sense, and thought that describing a storm would be a good way to incorporate the words and the senses.

Original Prose Piece:
…My legs and my hands tremble. I have trouble in finding my water bottle, to take a pull. My lips tremble as I try to think. But I smile – Kat is saved.
After a while I begin to sort out the confusion of voices that falls on my ears.
“You might have spared yourself that,” says an orderly.
I look at him without comprehending.
He points to Kat, “He’s stone dead.”
I do not understand him. “He has been hit in the shin,” I say.
The orderly stands still, “That as well.”
I turn round. My eyes are still dulled, the sweat breaks out on me again, it runs over my eyelids. I wipe it away and peer at Kat. He lies still. “Fainted,” I say quickly.
The orderly whistles softly. “I know better than that. He is dead. I’ll lay any money on that.”
I shake my head: “Not possible. Only ten minutes ago I was talking to him. He has fainted.”
Kat’s hands are warm, I pass my hand under his shoulders in order to rub his temples with some tea. I feel my fingers become moist. As I draw them away from behind his head, they are bloody.

My Piece:
I step outside to see the sky.
As though I’m wrapped in warm, moist covers,
I notice flocks of birds fly by;
They do not stop to pause or hover.

The tree in the distance begins to tremble.
It is a sign of upcoming trouble.
Animals flee from the symbol.
I need to smile, but my fears just double.

The sky becomes so dark,
And it is getting loud.
The clouds are turning stark,
I shout for help – not proud.

Ear-piercing whirlwinds circle ahead.
I flee like others for my life
For cover underneath the shed.
And wait for an end to my strife.

In there I hear the loudest thud
Of raindrops falling to the ground.
From up above come trickles of mud.
I hope that I can be found.

Now things have become quite still.
I do not know what’s going on,
And down my back is running a chill.
I push up the door to see the dawn.

The clouds have dispersed, and lights shines through.
A wind whistles softly, and birds come alive.
The sun is quite warm and soothing too.
The creatures rejoice – continue to thrive.

It is/I am
A New Year, A Big Change
This poem tells of how I changed once I turned sixteen. My inspiration actually came from the word “exactly.” I wanted to say “it is exactly…” After a conversation with my sister the night I wrote this poem, I knew that this inspiration could be used. The conversation with my sister was about how I used to beg her for rides so I wouldn’t be caught riding in a mini-van with my parents. Then I remembered how great it was to be able to drive on my own.

It is exactly seven days before Halloween.
I am turning sixteen years old.
Everything is changing before my eyes.
I am more mature, and I can legally drive.
no longer will I be that annoying child
Begging my older sister for a ride
So I wouldn’t be caught
Riding in a mini-van with my parents.
Now I am free;
Free to drive anywhere my heart desires.
I could drive across the whole United States
If my heart desired.
My options, once so limited,
In an instant become an endless wonder.
I am no longer that helpless kid with no ride,
But now I am the one
Being pestered by other unlicensed peers.
Oh how the tables have turned.


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