feeling artsy.

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(the photo above is taken by MOI.  it’s from my camp (in northern michigan) because poetry made me think of my camp, where i’d written several poems and read them aloud…enjoy!)

Hello, all.  Again, sorry for the lack of posting (posting?  postage?  posts…anyway…) but I’ll move on and try to refrain myself from another odd apology post resolving to post more often, or another rather inane what should I post now post, which I officially admit was a bad post.  Thanks for the ideas, though.  Really!  And, yes, people who don’t need to use the computer thesaurus to come up with funky words, (myself), I apologize for my random and probably sort of not-fitting vocab choices.  Bear with me as I try to affect a professional blogger tone: precise but not geeky, interesting but not annoyingly educational, funny but not ‘now THIS is funny!’ original but not overwritten, sweet but not cutesy.  I could write paragraphs and paragraphs about this writing style, but, well, getting there–that’s a different story.

So.  Right.  Today.  Sunday, ten P.M., school tomorrow, don’t quite feel like packing up my books for tomorrow and going to sleep.  And I’m feeling sort of artsy.  I don’t know if I would call myself an artsy person, because I don’t quite know how you’d define artsy (someone who spends their free time painting?  someone who browses antique stores with their grandmothers?  someone who can sing?).  But sometimes you get these weird bursts of feelings: like, I simply MUST learn how to braid my hair!  NOW! or It’s a beautiful day.  Sure, it’s raining, but you can see the sun through the clouds, and there’s a park right down the block, AND I feel sort of out of shape–I simply MUST go running! Well, I suddenly felt this strong need to write poetry. Yup.  Poetry.  I haven’t done this in FOREVER.  See, I like to write, but I’ve never been quite a poetry person.  They’re some people who are natural poets.  Because there’s an art to poetry, too.  You have to be wordy.  You have to be sort of musical, because poems have to possess a certain rhythm, a certain beat, almost, for them to sound good read aloud.  You have to be able to say something without actually writing it, and you have to be able to make the reader stop halfway through and try to piece together what you’re trying to tell them. Poems have this weird thing with nature.  You’d think that every poet in the world lives on a farm, or in a meadow, or on a mountaintop.  Really!  I mean, I’m guessing about 89% of poems have to do with nature.  Haven’t you noticed?  It’s always the butterflies this or the whispers of the wind that.

But.  Moving on.  I sat down and wrote a few.  Well, two, actually, but hey, it’s a start, right?  If you have a preference for one of the two (because I was thinking of possibly entering one into a contest) please comment.  And I’m very much into criticism.  Like, actually.  I hate it when people say they are but then act offended by anything you say.  But I’m not!  So go for it.  Here they are:

lethargic

plunking around

clicking around

sleeping around

eating around

a steady rhythm

plunk

click

sleep

then eat

wandering

the house

aimless

procrastinator

that I am

yet I feel

restless

doing nothing

doing something

though

takes far too much

ebullience

which cannot

cannot

be acquired

not today

so I wait

in that in-between place

wishing

for a peppy

someone

to tell me what to do

or

an equally lackadaisical someone

(sure of himself, but just as restless as I am)

to tell me that

it’s alright;

is how we all feel

on a Sunday?

is it?

or am i

supposed to be

frolicking like a good girl

playing with my friends

chattering on the telephone?

where

is

that

fine

line

between

good laziness

bad laziness

movies laziness

depressed laziness

friends laziness

sunday laziness

or is there none?

*******************************

construed

I know

I know

poetry

is supposed to be

powerful

moving

beautiful stuff

really

so

don’t take this the wrong way

starving families

war-struck villages

Haiti

because

all I want

is to ask

a few questions

like

why

does a guy

flirt

or why does he look at me like that

is it my clothes

do you really think…

why are the popular girls popular

in twenty years, this all won’t matter…

why

are some ugly

and some pretty

and some stunning

what is the definition

exactly

of beautiful

think, think of those who have no clothes at all…

and why all the terms

like-like

like

love

crush on

have a crush on

crush-

put this into perspective-

but this IS in perspective

it’s in perspective

of my life

of my world.

what is perspective

and what does it mean

really?

Well, good luck with the whole daylight savings ordeal.  It’ll all feel okay in a few days.

-talesfromtheflatlands

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About talesfromtheflatlands

hm. how to start...? i'm a middle schooler caught in the middle of typical dramas and trying to balance work, friends, disorganization, and all that good stuff. yeah. enough said on that front... i live in a somewhat boring neighborhood in a somewhat interesting city chock-full of chain stores and odd buildings. i have a brother, parents, and a cat, and (not to be forgotten) a rag doll. i love tea, hot chocolate (see my blog for my recipe), collages, creative writing, bake sales, dystopian novels, Jane Eyre, Glee, Top Chef All-Stars (vehemently cheering on Antonia...), snickerdoodles, The Beatles, old movies, chatting with books falling out of my arms on the way to class, debates, and education reform. the list goes on... well? what about you? great to meet you, whoever's reading this... have a nice rest of day. -talesfromtheflatlands

3 responses »

  1. I like the first one best but they are both amazing. And it’s refreshing to read some poetry that’s not nature-related. 🙂

  2. I KNOW!! About the boys flirting? Popular girls? Feeling really lazy? And then you try to respond to all of everyone and immediately you think, “oh god oh god I’m so stupid why did I say that they probably think I’m really weird… ”

    I say let the spontaneous artsy-ness come.

  3. Thanks! 🙂 I totally agree, Zoe. In middle school, no matter how totally impossible it is, somehow it always feels like everyone else is flawless and I’m the odd one out, but then I find myself wondering why i would want to simply be the same as everybody else, or whether everybody else feels the same way. Still, they’re always those people who always do the right thing, say the right thing…and THEN I wonder…how do we define RIGHT, and who decides? Nobody? Everybody at the same time? The popular girls? Sorry; I’m going off on a tangent. But. Anyway. Yeah, I feel exactly the same way!!
    Probably all middle-schoolers do, in a sense…
    all we can do is wait until high school, I guess. Or blog about it. 🙂

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