Word Vomit - Of Sorts

See below for my latest work. It is all poetry as that is our current focus in my writing course. It is available for a limited time only. The previous post highlights how I write and prepare to write for the day. Enjoy!

Currently Unnamed

Pop! Goes the winter storm

Frosting the town below

That sits astride an icing lake

A crafted bridge’s milieu.

Sprinkles of green conifers

white marzipan lights, garnishing

homes that brilliantly illumine

those subtle sugar windows.

Frozen dew - gelatin encasing delicate trees

The drifts of tasty snow

Piped rooftops in nature’s buttercream

Excite my innocent hunger.

At last the artist’s final touch -

And moving from a powdered sugar sky

Morning reveals soft limelight

Silent awe, to the delicious delight of the town.

Alone Should Not Be Me

Somehow I watched the wanderer

Wishing he were me

The aimless direction of his path

Seemed alluring to see

If I lost my way upon the sea

I’d have a direction to seek

Though lost I’d not wander aimlessly

As I have someplace to be

His feet shuffled freely

Eyes dwelling long upon things

Seeming content in his fruitless pace

I wished it to be me

To take a road less travelled by

Would be quite heavenly

I’d take my pack upon my back

And let my feet go free.

I’d say goodbye get on a plane

A bus, a train, or just run

I’d walk upon every place on earth

But did I wish this thing for me?

Then I thought of losing love

Of having to be on my own

It seemed to me in order to be free

I’d have to be alone.

A path has direction

Matter not the aimless walk

And suddenly I understood

Alone should not be me.

The heavy footsteps of the man

Felt sad instead of free

It must not be to wander so aimless

All alone and lost – should not be.

The road less traveled can be free

But one must never walk alone

Take a friend or family, even abroad

One must need a home.

Opposites

Sometimes you take the hit
to achieve the victory
You feel death
To know what it is to live
And you fall
To understand why you rise
An angry spurn
Can blossom from it, redemption
Losing your way
Discovers the path
But in the end, my dear, you shall see
It has been meant to be your beginning.


This last one was my actual writing assignment.  The others were my warm ups and word vomit of sorts in preparation of this particular poem. The instructions were thus: Write a poem featuring at least 15 words that are pleasing to you. Your goal will be to celebrate the beauty and pleasure of these words (there is reference to a poem we read in our previous reading assignments, but I did not use it while I wrote as I had a fairly good idea of what I wanted to achieve). The length of this poem should be at least 15 lines, but not exceed 30:

My own little dribble

I imagine one would ask

To see inside my head. Here are various words

One might venture are written

amidst the walls in my universe:

Tangible cerulean gossamer illumines

the swift autumnal breeze

Arithmetic, enigmatic, on a languid palomino

What a texture, or a shape, the shadow it creates

Slake the emblem! Elaborate!

Now delicate partake:

Pneumococcal hemophilia

Of a misanthrope may be best.

Pianissimo pizzicato

Now allegretto crescendo

And on to, who do I know?

Artemis and her hunting bow,

Aristotle, Sophocles:

Antigone, his creation. Erasmus

Snow, Socrates, Monet and Degas,

For show.

An ebb and flounder, in colloquial lilt ‘tis not,

Now a mighty decrescendo

Into lunar-soft reflection of the lush ether