Author: rgardner2 (Page 5 of 7)

Little Things

My eyes are glazing over

The small screen in front of me hasn’t given me anything interesting.

The dining hall is crowded and loud.

The weight of my assignments makes it feel impossible to stand up straight.

I should be working.

I let out a sigh

My mind drifts to all the things I have to do.

I can feel my head leaving my body. 

I’m no longer here.

Rachel

My head whips back to my body 

I look up at Sophia.

She has a camera pointed at me

She smiles as she takes a picture.

I love you

She puncuates it with a little air kiss.

I tell her I love her too.

And I’m back. 

At least for a little while.

The Writer’s Dilemma  

I stare at the blank page in front of me.

The white glow of the screen seems to be blinding.

A black cursor sits small on the page.

It blinks at me.

My hands hover over my keyboard.

My fingers flex but never touch the keys.

My entire personality has flown out the window.

Who am I?

What do I find interesting?

What do I have to talk about?

What do I have to add?

Have I ever had an original experience?

I feel as blank as the page in front of me.

As pure as though I was just born.

I’ve had no experiences.

I’m not interesting.

I close my computer.

When writing this poem I had been playing around with this idea for a little while now but hadn’t had a chance to really flesh out what I wanted to say. I feel like I had a lot more to say so stripping it down to the bare bones was really hard for me. My technical first draft is sitting in my notes app which is more a rant than a first draft. So what I have written here is a more polished version where I pulled all the things I liked from my rant. Endings are very hard for me but I really liked the way I moved the ending around for my final draft of it. For the second draft I tried to see what was missing so that I could add to it. From the way our class discussions have been going I think maybe trying to find things to take out may have made it fit a bit more but I really like how the end result turned out. It was absolutely a challenge trying to know what I needed to zoom in and focus on but I think I got what I was trying to say across to the reader.

 I decorated my book to be more traditionally feminine which I think works very well for the context of my poem which is about the patience and, in some ways, quiet violence of the women I’ve known. Originally I wanted the cover to have a field of flowers on the front to be a serene picture. But I ended up doing an ivy boarder for the front cover and a pattern on the back which I wanted to make look like lace. The ivy at the front reminds me of the ivy a lot of younger people putb in their rooms as decoration. The lace on the back was supposed to be a callback to a bit older of a generation. There was also a bit of a generational theme in my poem and I wanted that to be looked at a bit more and I thought the two different images would be a good way to show that. If I had a bit more time or resources I may have got an actual piece of lace to put on the back of the book. I think using images to re-enforce themes in the poem is the way I would like to use them for my final artists book.

I picked the second prompt from page 102

Her words leave me speechless. I’ve always been told to keep my mouth shut if I don’t have anything nice to say.

Looking into his eyes is like gazing up at the night sky. His thoughts, like the stars, are few and far between.

I could read her look a book. Her book was written in German. I don’t speak German.

His voice floated through the air like a clarinet. Whoever was playing really needed some clarinet lessons.

I can feel the wind on my skin. 

The way it whips my hair around to lash into my face.

The way it sends chills down my spine and it seems to swirl up and around me.

Oranges and reds paint the clouds below me.

They swirl and move like a great fluffy sea underneath me. 

I can feel his lungs expand beneath me. 

A yell leaves my throat and is taken by the wind before I can hear it.

The beat of his wings next to me though is something I’ll never forget. 

For a moment it’s like they’re my own wings.

Like we’re one.

My chest swells with something I’ve never felt before.

This is where I was meant to be.

Where I was born to be.

The music crescendos around me.

It crackles through the speakers.

I open my eyes and I’m back in my living room.

My mother is typing away on her computer at our dining room table.

Her keyboard fades into the melody filling the room.

I’m sitting on my worn green couch with a blanket wrapped around my legs.

I’m leaning so far forward I’m almost falling off.

I want to close my eyes and go back in to the movie.

I want to feel that crescendo in my chest again.

That’s where I was meant to be. 

This is the picture I picked! It’s kind of blurry so I’d definitely recommend the movie(How to Train Your Dragon). The soundtrack on it is also so good.

The rain is harsh.

It lashes against my skin like fire.

It turns my skin red enough to match my raincoat.

The raincoat isn’t doing much.

Dark shapes seem to swirl below me in the water.

Nothing ever seems to form.

Simply blurred shadows that bob in and out of view.

I’d join them if the rope in my hands wasn’t so steady.

If the wind pulling it to and from didn’t cut my hands the way it has.

I turn to look behind me.

Behind the unnatural red hull of our boat.

I see dark shapes swirling behind me.

The rain gives way long enough to see.

The mast of a ship.

The sails are drawn in tight.

The dark wood makes it appear and disappear in the gloom.

The mast looms infinite overhead. 

Before disappearing again.

The past always follows.

I can’t catch my breath.

My knees are tucked into my chest.

A brown bear dressed as a hufflepuff is crushed between my chest and legs.

He’s overworked.

His head is wet.

My face is wet. 

I sit in silence.

The silence being broken only sometimes by my sobs.

I don’t want anyone to hear.

I want everyone to hear.

I want to call my friends and scream their names.

I want to erase this moment from my life.

I want them to reach out their hands and help.

I want them to rush to my rescue.

I won’t give them the option.

The only one to see me will be my little hufflepuff.

I know they’d help if I asked. 

I know they’d make me feel better,

If I asked.

So why won’t I ask?

The air is cold on my bare arms.

A jacket would have been a good call this morning.

When the wind dies down the night is nice.

My chest is warm from earlier.

The laughs of my friends still ring in my ears.

I just dropped one of them off at her dorm.

For a moment I am alone.

Exposed outside.

There are no walls to protect my loneliness.

I like it this way.

I turn my face up the the sky.
For a moment i start walking sideways.

I feel like I’m going to fall over.

How hard would the ground hurt?

But before I can find out I stop walking.

I look up to the stars.

I feel their light on my face.

Each breath feels electric.

Almost as if they’re too much for my lungs.

The stars seem to be multiplying.

And suddenly I’m no longer alone.

I tilt my head to gace forwards again.

The rest of the walk to my dorm is swift.

I’m content to do it all over tomorrow.