Poem 2
April 18, 2011 § Leave a Comment
I am the awkward woman who you see.
I pass you in the halls and I do not speak.
My eyes will not meet yours even though I feel you glaring at me.
Aloof, a snob, and stuck-up are the words you use to describe me.
I am not your words but a bit of an introvert you see.
Lost in my thoughts, I have passed you by.
Offended is how you feel but that was not my intent.
I’d rather be lost in my reflections.
Poem 1
April 13, 2011 § Leave a Comment
I turned the page and there you were.
A reflection of what I’d hope to become.
No feelings of envy, only thoughts of admiration.
How did you do it?
What was your journey?
What’s in your future?
I know that dreams are possible yet, I feel like a failure.
You see, your hopes and dreams were my own.
Somewhere I lost focus.
I turned aside and I did not nourish my passions.
They slowly died like a flower thirsting for water
And were buried in my heart.
Seeing your achievements gives me faith.
My dreams, once buried, have now risen.
My direction is plotted.
My destination is sure.
One day you will turn the page and see me.
Then you too will know that I’ve become who I wanted to be.
Die Slowly by Pablo Neruda
April 7, 2011 § Leave a Comment
Image via Wikipedia
Die slowly
by Pablo Neruda
He who becomes the slave of habit, who follows the same routes every day, who never changes pace, who does not risk and change the color of his clothes, who does not speak and does not experience, dies slowly.
He or she who shuns passion, who prefers black on white, dotting ones “i’s” rather than a bundle of emotions, the kind that make your eyes glimmer, that turn a yawn into a smile, that make the heart pound in the face of mistakes and feelings, dies slowly.
He or she who does not turn things topsy-turvy, who is unhappy at work, who does not risk certainty for uncertainty, to thus follow a dream, those who do not forego sound advice at least once in their lives, die slowly.
He who does not travel, who does not read, who does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself, she who does not find grace in herself, dies slowly.
He who slowly destroys his own self-esteem, who does not allow himself to be helped, who spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck, about the rain that never stops, dies slowly.
He or she who abandon a project before starting it, who fail to ask questions on subjects he doesn’t know, he or she who don’t reply when they are asked something they do know, die slowly.
Let’s try and avoid death in small doses, reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple fact of breathing. Only a burning patience will lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness.
The reason why I love this poem is because it serves as a reminder to me to step out of my shell and to be more adventurous with life and with the choices I make. It’s easy to get trapped in the routine of getting up and going to work and then coming home and watching tv. You keep doing the same thing day after day and pretty soon time flies by and you don’t know what has become of your life.
Last year I was at a crossroads in my life. I could continue to do the same things I was doing or I could change and chart a different path for myself and this poem has become my mantra on change. Little by little I’m setting a new course for my life and trying new things.
I understand why the author would mention travel, reading, and music as being aspects that a person should experience and I believe that myself. These activities open you mind to new ways of thought and perspective. I’d also add viewing art to this list as well because seeing the creativity of someone else can inspire you in your own work. It can also inspire you to think on a higher level and to be innovative.
National Poetry Month
April 7, 2011 § 2 Comments
Image by DML East Branch via Flickr
April is National Poetry Month and to celebrate this event I’ve decided to share some of my favorite poems and why. I also hope to share some of my own poetry as well. I feel a connection to poetry because of the mystery behind each poem. You can analyze a poem but it can mean different things to different people. Writing poetry isn’t easy. It takes patience and planning and even then sometimes you don’t always say what you really want to say. For me, writing poetry is an exercise in language and expression. It challenges me to reach deep within myself and to look for the meaning to my life and experience in different ways. As difficult as it can be to understand poetry at times, maybe this month people will reconnect with poets of old or even become poets themselves.
