Writing

Pretty much since I can remember I wanted to write. I use to say that I wanted to be a marine biologist, but didn't every girl of my generation? I have been told by a few people that I can write, whatever that actually means. But I need to get over myself, more like my pride, and see what I can really do. That is why I want to start sharing things here. I know that most of the people who read this blog know me really well. I would rather you guys break my heart, than some random person I don't know. So don't look at it as breaking my heart, though I just used that phrasing, rather as sobering me into seeing something I can't see on my own.

I thought I would start with something small. I wrote a few of poems a bit ago. I was trying to get into the habit of writing on a regular basis. They were my first foray into poem writing and I am sure their form is probably all off. Poem writing is sadly a fading art form. After trying it myself, I have more appreciation for poets and the particular way they weave words together. Anyway, please let me know what you think, honestly.

#1

As the road winds long
around the wilting tree
The shining burns bright
off the hollow, stolen fruit
What stories does it tell
as it’s hung long?
What mysteries are kept
under it’s gleaming thin
skin?

#2

The water drips down, down deep
Reaching dark into the chasm
It’s echo heard faint from the top
after straining far from the light
And as it falls down, down deep
you too seep into the hole
of black-filled dreams and cheerless cold.




Mary Oliver is a poet I have been enjoying recently. I would encourage you to read her work, particularly American Primitive, if this gets you in the mood to read poems.