As my junior year comes to a close, so does this blog. It has been a wonderful experience sharing my work. I’m not completely walking away; there still may be a couple posts here or there when I’m feeling particularly inspired. I hope you enjoyed!
as the blood covers the concrete
as your eyes glaze over
as your breathing becomes shallow
as you lay limp in my arms
This piece was inspired by a short story titled If My Love is Indecent, Then Shoot Me. This story was so beautiful and well written. My heartstrings were pulled and my eyes welled up and it sparked many ideas in my head. One of them was this piece titled You’re Fine. My goal was to illustrate the feeling of denial when a devastating tragedy strikes.
I wake up in a small, cold and empty room. Only a flickering bulb gives me glances at my surroundings. The smell of green tea and mildew fills my nose. Going in and out of consciousnesses. A man in a mask enters the room from a small door next to me.
“You can make this easy on yourself or very, very hard.” The masked man says with a slight accent.
It may be the concussion but I am so confused as to what is happening. One second eating dinner with my family, tied up in a basement the next.
“Tell me where it is.” He says in an eerily calm tone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I manage to weakly say.
“The artifact. You know exactly what I am talking about.” The masked man’s anger is showing more and more.
“I don’t- I can’t- who are you?!”
Two more men come in and speak to each other in a language unknown to me and in a blink, I am knocked unconscious once more.
My friend Dana and I wrote a screenplay based on her short story Little Declan. It is a story about a woman’s struggle with abuse. Hope you enjoy!
The man stood on a tall mountain
He felt the world was
too big for him to be valued
much too big for significance
needs to be made in order to
make him feel better
I see you in the blooming flowers in the garden
or in the dark clouds filled with rain
I can hear you in the sound of birds chirping in spring
or a loud crash of thunder in a storm at night
I can feel you in the touch of a warm blanket on a cold day
or nails on a chalkboard
but mostly you’re in my heart
and sometimes it doesn’t feel like
we’re worlds apart
In this free verse poem, I imagine a person who is reflecting on a past relationship that was pretty rocky. The relationship may have had its problems yet after it ended, they still care about one another. What happened at the end is ambiguous on purpose whether it ended on good terms or bad terms, they connection they have is shown to be strong. I was inspired by one of my own personal relationships with a person. They came into my life and went away in what feels like a blink of an eye, yet I still feel a strong connection to them. I chose to make it a free verse because I wanted to have the comparison without the limiting factors of a certain amount of syllables or rhymes.
Before this class, I have never studied poetry in such depth and in consequence, I thought I hated it. I didn’t know the number of different forms poetry could take. I thought all of them had to be Shakespearean sonnets with thy, thou, and thine sprinkled throughout. Of course there isn’t anything wrong with them, I just felt as if everything was limited in a small box. Now that I understand the freedom that poetry has and studying many poems meanings, I have a much greater appreciation for this art and I am planning on trying my hand at more in the future.
A worry that soared through
the air where I flew
a wavering thought
of something that is not
I step out of our car into the cold night air, thank the driver and start to walk towards the large mahogany doors of the Rousseau mansion. The muffled sound of music grows louder and louder and my dread grows more and more. James is in there and the last thing I want is to see him after what he did.
Beautiful chandeliers line the ceiling and shine on the extravagant, sparkling decorations that fill the massive main hall. Butlers walking around with trays of food and drinks, a live band flooding the house with booming music, men in their finest suits and women in sequins and feathers dancing together in a sea of beauty. It was almost too much to take in. The fragrance of cigarettes and expensive cologne filling my nose with a strangely intoxicating smell. A low rumble of chatter and laughter mixed with the loud music is music in itself. Everything is so exquisite.
My hesitation to come slowly parts from my mind. James disappears from my thoughts as I start to dance with friends, acquaintances, and strangers. Everyone is so carefree and welcoming I feel almost at peace. That is, until I feel a hand on my waist and hear the familiar low rumble of James’ voice in my ear.
“Come with me.” he whispered.
I hesitated for a moment but let him lead me outside to the garden.
“What do you want?” I muttered coldly.
Those two words startled me. James Rousseau apologizing? I’m still surprised to find out he has any other emotion other than arrogance, let alone sympathy! I stood with a furrowed brow trying to formulate a response. The muffled music filled the silence but didn’t break the tension.
“What makes you think I can believe you?” I questioned. “Isn’t this what you do to all the people’s hearts you have broken?”
“I broke your heart?! You aren’t the one who finally opened up to someone and have that someone leave!”
“I didn’t leave, you pushed me away.” I argued calmly, slowly realizing what this was truly about.
“I was scared! I’ve never had feelings like this before- I just- I- I can’t explain!” James cried.
“I love you.”
J’aime la langue. C’est très intéressant à voir comment ça marche. Le son de les mots est très jolie et plaisant à entendre. Le chemin les mots couler ensemble être capable de sonner plus belle est très magnifique.
The smell of the strong, musky perfume surrounded him. The familiar scent was comforting yet extremely unsettling because it was his grandmother’s perfume. His grandmother who died two years ago on this day. The boy’s stomach sinks, his hands shake as he is lying in bed in the pitch black darkness of night. He tries to convince himself that is is just a dream, maybe he’s just groggy from being woken out of a deep sleep. He suddenly feels the end of the bed slowly sinking as if someone is sitting on it. The boy is paralyzed in fear, the smell is even stronger now. The only thing he can hear is the strong wind outside and his own shaky breathing. That’s when his alarm goes off for school; the weight subsides and the smell quickly dissipates.