Slip Away Like Air

It can slip away like air

as you find yourself alone

once a part of an inseparable pair

you’re abandoned, cold as stone

As you find yourself alone

Wonder where you’ll go to next

you’re abandoned, cold as stone

how you got here, too perplexed

Wonder where you’ll go next

the heartbreak is so unbearable

how you got here, too perplexed

after this pain will I be repairable

The heartbreak is so unbearable

It was there, you gave yourself away

After this pain will I be repairable

trusting anyone won’t return another day

It was there, you gave yourself away

So different, it seemed, the love we had

Trusting anyone won’t return another day

reminiscing on the love that went bad

So different it seemed, the love that we had

It simply slipped in and wrapped around me

Reminiscing on the love that went bad

here alone, an inadvertent escapee

It simply slipped in and wrapped around me

Now it’s gone and I’m left behind to rot

Here alone, an inadvertent escapee

Slipping into the world’s blind spot.

I chose to write my poem in the pantoum form, mainly because this form caught my attention the most. Usually, I feel like repetition and rhyme make my poems take on a childish feel, but I think that in the specific form it actually helped. I think the repetition enforced a lot of the points that I wanted to make, and I like the way it slips into a rhythm due to this repetition. I thought the rhyme scheme of ABAB for every line was at times difficult, because the meaning of the line didn't always end up matching what I originally meant in my head. However, after working with the rhyme sceme a little bit (and, admittedly, the use of a rhyming dictionary) I managed to make most of the lines have a similar meaning to what I originally meant. I think the pantoum form complements the dark feeling of the poem, since the point of the poem was to talk about how easy it is to lose someone's trust. The repetition helps to reiterate lines with specific meanings, and the rhyming actually helps it to flow. I think the Pantoum style is definitely good for serious poems.

Gessner Reflection

David Gessner’s speech did not really catch my interest. Although he made a lot of interesting points about where our environment is going, and how we should be treating the problem, I can’t really say I’d be interested in reading his books.

I liked that he seemed very down to earth, talking about the cognitive dissonance between the way we live and the way we know we should live, because it was a very relatable topic. I definitely agreed with him that its hard to be an environmentalist when people are saying that everything we are doing is “the end of the world.” I also liked the way that Gessner compared humans to Northern Gannet birds. I had never heard of the birds before, but the way that he talked about how they are glutinous, and eat as many fish as possible and compared them to humans it really rung true. When he was asking the question of whether or not it will be possible for us to be happy with less than we have now, I found myself really thinking about the issue.

However, I think that a lot of the points he made were not anything that I would really want expanded upon. They stimulated a lot of personal thought for myself, but I don’t think that I would be propelled to by a book and read more about what another person thinks we should do. I liked hearing his main points, but I think that reading a full book on environmental reflections similar to those he talked about would just bore me. I’m glad I went to the reading-- it gave me a lot of food for thought. Gessner is asking a lot of good, important questions, and I hope that someday soon we will find an answer for them.

Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath

I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it---- A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin 0 my enemy. Do I terrify?---- The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be At home on me And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to see Them unwrap me hand and foot The big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. Dying Is an art, like everything else, I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call. It's easy enough to do it in a cell. It's easy enough to do it and stay put. It's the theatrical Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout: 'A miracle!' That knocks me out. There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart---- It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. I am your opus, I am your valuable, The pure gold baby That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern. Ash, ash --- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there---- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air. A conversation And so it goes For every time a new challenge Every time a new vice. The scars are worthy You’d be surprised For they come and go Ankles and hips Wrists and consciousness, A determination of sorts. Dying, Is a challenge Could I have a call. Can it feel like hell Will you get there For when you want Are the 9 lives lucky Or could you end it all It’s easy enough To come back and try Again, To see the effects you have. Flesh, bone, A body collected A reserve of ideas Going to waste In the blood For a word or a touch. The grave can call A miracle may last, I may collapse shut.

December Lust

snow falling,

catch the flakes on your tongue,

and admire the beauty of the white.

turkeys, stuffing, mashed potatoes,

the most delicious of spreads you could imagine,

and family spilling all around.

the scent of evergreens touch your nose,

you smile at the christmas cheer in your cup,

everyone loves a little baileys and hot cocoa.

winter brings the cold,

some hate it, and some love it

but none can deny,

it’s a beautiful time.

such a beautiful time,

the time of the Sagittarius.

Original:

We walk to the church in a group of about twenty. As we enter through the front doors, I look up in awe. I’ve never been in a church like this before, shaped in a circle with little classrooms all around the edges. We take our seats in the firs few rows, when someone calls us to attention. I look up, and see the four members of what I assume to be the executive board, sitting on the alter and looking out expectantly. The only guy up there is scanning the room, and our eyes lock for a split second, and I can’t break away. I have never, ever seen eyes this breathtaking. As I give a shy smile and turn away, I hope that there’s a birthday surprise coming my way.

---------------------

I’m walking on the main pathway through the maze of buildings, alone after the day of training. We got back with twenty minutes left in ninth period, and there’s no way I’m going to class. I’m still in a haze from the day’s activities. Although I never spoke to Dave, I’m determined to have him be mine. He seems perfect--smart, funny, involved, and my god those eyes. I can’t imagine anyone else, and I’m lost in a daydream, smiling about him happy. As I look down the walkway, I seem him walking up. I’m alone and he’s with two people I don’t know, but we make eye contact again. He smiles at me, winks and says, “Happy birthday, birthday girl.”

Rewritten:

I’ll never forget when I first met you. We all walked over to the church, a group of twenty of us. You were in the back, talking to the other execs, and I was in the middle of the pack, awkwardly trying to make friends. Once we went inside the strange circular church, I took my seat in the second row. You went up to the altar and sat down on the steps with the other board execs. You hadn’t seemed particularly interesting, until you looked up and I caught your attention. As I looked into your eyes, I had a split second moment of realization that I had never seen any eyes that incredibly breathtaking before. And right then, before you had even learned who I was, I knew I wanted you to be mine. After all, it was my birthday right? What a birthday surprise that was, to find someone as wonderful as you.

--------------------------------

As I walked alone on the maze of pathways in our school, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m in a haze from the days activities, and although we barely spoke, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be alone with you. I can’t imagine anyone else, and I’m lost in a daydream, smiling to myself. Then, I remember looking up, and seeing you coming up the pathway. You were with two other execs, but I was only looking at you. Once you looked up, you smiled and winked at me, and said, “Happy birthday, birthday girl.” Four simple words, but you’d caught me in your trap.

On Infatuation

They always tell me that one day, someone will walk into my life and i’ll finally understood why nothing ever worked out with anyone else. But how does that work? I look and wait, I fall in love and I wonder when that sign comes.

The movies tell me to look for when life as I know it ends*, or when I catch someone’s eye across the room and I melt into a puddle on the ground. But is that really how the chips fall?

I’ve watched and listened. I’ve seen shows on love. But it never happens. Ted** is always looking for the one, the one he wants to marry, but his hopes are always dashed, and I don’t understand why.

I’m in love now. You could definitely call it that. But where does it change? From infatuation to love? They tell me that in a moment, everything I know could disappear, I’ll be forever changed. But it doesn’t work like that. It can’t work like that.

As our lives intertwine, I find myself wondering if he’s the one. That’s stupid, everyone around me will tell me that the love you have now won’t last. But am I to be damned for hoping that it might? To dare to think that it could? Do I deserve the crazy label that anyone would tell me when I spit these thoughts out loud?

It seems easy, to be infatuated. The pint of Ben & Jerry’s in my freezer is the closest thing I’ve ever experienced to perfect. Since I think about it all day, does that make me insane? The thought that happiness can come from all sorts of places? When you word it like that, it’s not a crazy thought at all. But when you take a step back, does anything ever make sense?

They always tell me that it will work out for the better. That sometimes, if there’s something you really want, to ask for it. And if you don’t get it, that maybe it wasn’t worth having in the first place.*** I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever understand the advice that they’re giving me.

I’m told to give it my all. To be a hopeless romantic. But in this world, in this day and age, if you give it this all you’re simply cast off. Her hopes will be dashed, and failure is imminent. Do you think I’m crazy? To believe in that love?

I’ve seen a life changing love. I know that it’s out there. Is my love that love? I don’t think you know. I think it must be something you stumble upon. Twenty years later, finally realizing that you were the lucky one. That you married your soulmate.

*PS I Love You

**How I Met Your Mother

*** Gilmore Girls