Piece of Peace

I started this after a church choir performance in the heart of the Christmas season. The first stanza is a verse of a song that we had performed that day.

Piece of Peace
Green and silver, red and gold
And a story born of old
Peace and love and hope abide
This Christmastide, this Christmastide

Choirs singing songs of praise
To our God, each voice we raise
Bringing Christmas joy to all
The young and poor, the big and small

Service ends, the choirs leave
Congregation may believe
So do we, for one moment
But soon enough we will forget

Go back to the choir room
Met with the sound of a vacuum,
Younger singers making noise,
And loud, pretentious choir boys

I hope we brightened someone's day
We are good at that they say
But you couldn't ever tell
From the way we talk and yell

If that's so, then is all lost
Once the exit door is crossed?
Somehow I do not think so
For somewhere inside I know

It's worth all that practice time
Worth each rhythm and every rhyme
For whatever small release
Comes from that short hour of peace

Frost

I started this quite a while ago, on a day when it was- you guessed it- frosty. At the time it was completely true, but I was busy and didn't finish it. I worry that the end, therefore, isn't as nice as the beginning, but that's up to you to judge

Frost
It never snows around these parts
Though we pray for it from our hearts
But it'd be easy to get lost
Within these forests full of frost

It's far too cold and far too bleak
For people to come out this week
So I alone may sit and swing
Free to do nearly anything

What a big deal a child makes
Of sugar coated frosted flakes
But frost alone, or flakes of snow
And no one dares outside to go

I love it, all pristine and clear
They're all afraid to come out here
But should they all choose to come out
Their noise and crowds would make me pout

Just sitting here is such a thrill
The world stays absolutely still
Because the frost has glued it all
How powerful, and yet how small

So many fear the solitude
But it brings me a perfect mood
Some joy and peace and almost pride
For finding what is just outside

A walk

I really love the idea of break. I woke up today, thought "oh no, it's Wednesday! I have to be up til noon!" and got dressed and ate breakfast in quite a hurry. Fortunately for me, it is actually Monday and I was able to go back to bed until 12:30, when I was so embarrassed at myself for sleeping so much that I forced myself to get up. I love break, though, because I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. Of course I have some homework, but it's not too much and I honestly have not been procrastinating because when you know you can do whatever you want, sometimes editing a music essay or studying poetry for English seems fun (of course, I'm slightly biased towards the studying poetry thing...). Yesterday, I hung out with an old friend who currently lives 2,000 miles away- I met her at a mall that's 4 miles away from my house, but instead of taking the bus there, I walked with my dad. On a normal day, there's no way I would have had the time or motivation to do that, but it's really quite a nice thing to do. I love going on walks, it's freeing and it gives me time to think. Maybe that's what I love about all of break... I can just sit around and think.


A Walk
The window is open, though I don't know why
There's only a small patch of blue in the sky
And the air is so cold, coming in with the breeze
Off the shivering ground and the frostbitten trees

Papa asks me if I'd like to go walk
Is he crazy? I wonder, for I am in shock
That a sane human being would even conceive
Going out in this weather, it seems so naive

But daddy's not kidding and wants me to come
I pray my whole body does not become numb
As I put on two jackets and one winter coat
And put my mp3 and phone in a tote

We pass some bushes as we walk down the street
In August their blackberries were oh so sweet
I'd eat them as I walked to my driving class
Smiling and whistling as I would pass

When I was younger, I would call this "the woods"
And imagine old witches and thieves trading goods
I thought that old thicket of trees wouldn't end
And I'd talk to each bird as if he were my friend

We pass by a memorable church and I sigh
We went there a few times, my mother and I
I never learned just why she disapproved
Dad asks me a question and onward we move

There's the vet's office I like to avoid
It always seems to make my mother annoyed
A new set of bills or diet for the cat
When mom's annoyed, my sister's always a brat...

The middle school where my brother would have gone
If, at the last minute, he hadn't withdrawn
To go to that far away school, what a shame
Daddy points- men playing some confusing game

"Cricket" dad says- that I did not expect
But dad knows so much, I assume he's correct
We pass by a park that is vibrant and quaint
Like something Monet or Pissarro might paint

I want to sit there, although I'm not tired
Just because that small park makes me oh so inspired
But daddy keeps walking and so do I
I notice a little more blue in the sky

My zune plays Vanessa Carlton and I smile
I haven't listened to her in a while
Her music's so honest, so straight from the heart
This is what it means to truly create art

I used to beg to go to that big day care
But not once did mom allow me to go there
The dentist's office- oh it gives me the chills
And I never knew there were so many hills

We walk on a bridge where I drive frequently
I didn't know there were train tracks under me!
You miss so much when you are rushing through
In my own hometown, look what I never knew!

We get to the book store four miles from home
Daddy continues so I am alone
I've never liked bookstores, I go to the mall
I'll wait here two hours with no plans at all

My old friend arrives there eventually
But I've had a fine time just being me
Reflecting on people and places I've missed
But for a small while content just to exist

Success

People often ask me what I want to be when I grow up. I think I'm just at that age where it's the question to ask. That and "do you have your license?" Well the second one is a pretty straight answer, but the first one? I haven't the slightest notion. I know a lot about what I don't want to be, but crossing items off an infinite list of possibilities doesn't help me much.
We had guests over for Christmas and they were asking me my plans for life, so this is kind of my response to that

Success
They want me to want money
Then I'll have got it right
So I can be successful
And sleep smiling each night

But who defines "successful?"
And why should I please them?
Who makes guidelines for life that
Say what to do, and when?

I don't care how the others
May think or talk or sneer
I'll live by all my own rules
And make my own darn cheer

But how can I be content
With smiles all alone?
True joy is meant for sharing
Now laughing on my own

And it is ofen said that
The truest joy of all
Comes from brightening others
No matter big or small

So in my own self interest
I'll give up cash and fame
And live to make you happy
To win this "success" game

December 26th

Sorry it's been so long since I last wrote. My goal is still to write 31 poems in the month of December, although clearly I did not succeed at writing one per day. I had quite a nice Christmas and I hope you, the semi-imaginary reader, did too.

I wrote three poems last night, but I wasn't super inspired, so they're pretty random and not necessarily any good. Sometimes it takes a while to get back into these things... oh well

I thought of fabulous introductions to these while I was writing the poems, but now I have no idea... don't you hate it when that happens?

December 26th
If I could talk to him today,
What would our dear old Santa say?
After his annual day of stress
Upon that oft-allusioned sleigh?

I know the old man needs his rest,
But I doubt he would be impressed
By children tired of their gifts
Before they're even fully dressed

You spent six months begging for it
And it's perfect, you must admit
I'd bet on just a week or two
Before "it's just not the right fit"

A month or so and you'll be through
Because you yearn for something new
It's not your fault, for heaven's sake!
Just blame the wealth you're born into

And you may not live by the lake
Or lay out on the beach to bake
You're just an average family
Working hard for the dough you make

I hope that you've fooled somebody
With that rags-to-riches story
Perhaps you've even fooled yourselves
But it takes more to convince me

Well Santa overworks his elves
For toys into which each kid delves
But soon you'll call your lawyer friend
And sue about those North Pole shelves

For one small gift you'll condescend
In months when it's just not the trend
And try to send it back right quick
Though that would be a dreadful end

I cannot say I know Saint Nick
And now I'll bet he's used to it
But I doubt he feels very slick
On this December twenty six.

Periwinkle Skies

I really like this one
I don't like the conclusion, because I never do, but the poem is something I can appreciate. We're donne studying Robert Frost in English, but this one seems quite Frost-esque to me.
I didn't wear contacts to practice today and they ended up playing football for 45 minutes, which was really too bad because it would be very difficult to play a ball game with limited vision. While I waited for them to finish so I could run with a friend who was playing, I sat and "watched" and noticed things around me that I otherwise wouldn't have; the odd silhouettes of the trees on the deepening sky, the way birds moved overhead, and the gorgeous sunset. Not that I wouldn't have noticed these before, but I don't think I would have appreciated them nearly as much if I could have seen all the little parts that contributed. Sometimes it's nice to look at the big picture. A teacher at my school (though not one that I have) likes to talk about "getting caught up in minutia" and while details are very important in a lot of life, it's important to let yourself try to stand back and look at things. A day without contacts and clarity gave me the chance to do just that, and it's quite a relief.

Periwinkle Skies
My friend, I should apologize
For the poor status of my eyes
I cannot read that sign ahead
You must read it for me instead
Without contacts I cannot play
Your frisbee or football today
Alas! Your face, too, is unclear
I've misplaced my lenses, I fear

Yet I can see the midday skies
Still crystal clear, to my surprise
Your action scenes I cannot see
But grass and lakes are clear to me
Their vivid hues are beautiful
In great detail or as a whole
It's clear how much there is to find
Even if one is nearly blind

I watch a sparrow whilst it flies
Though I know not its shape nor size
It's just as graceful as it soars
To forests? Or to frothy shores?
I know now just what Monet saw
Color and movement, like Degas
Perhaps I can agree with them
Though all the others may condemn

It's no place for the rich and wise
Beneath the periwinkle skies
With so much in this world to love
Why bother too look up above?
But I know nothing better to
Spend this specific night to do
And why not, just once, give up fret
And sit and watch just one sunset?

I've lost all use of these old eyes
But I can sing you lullabies
Some songs that you will smile to hear
My voice, not sight, is crystal clear
There is no breeze, but quite a chill
The earth and I, we both sit still
And smile, and love the other one
Not minding that the day is done


I watch the moon begin to rise
Knowing I should say my good byes
But I could stay till morning came
And leaving now would be a shame
Perhaps those painters had it right
Vision is nothing in the night
And without details to look for
I love the scenery all the more

Strong

 I don't have too much to say about this one and I'm in a bit of a rush, but it's a little different from the rest because it's... strong, surprisingly enough. It's not about appreciation or being positive, it's about being strong. Yes, it is inspired by my life. No, I am not going through any sort of break up. No, it is not inspired by anyone who reads this blog.

 Strong
I'm sure I don't look strong to you
I'm young, I'm small, I'm feminine
I stress, I need, I cry--it's true
And yeah, I screw up now and then

Come cry to me, I'll sympathize
Since chances are that I've been there
Perhaps, like ma, I'll dry your eyes
And hold you close and smooth your hair

But listen, I am no weak girl
I won't do anything you need
Sit in your lap and be your pearl
I don't think I'm too hard to read

Somehow, though, you're just missing it
Can't understand that I am strong
This "friendship" thing just doesn't fit
And friend, it's time we both moved on

Well don't you understand at all?
That's it, we're done, I've hit the floor
I'm feminine and young and small
But I can't do this anymore

Goodbye, once-friend, I'll miss you too
But that patience is all I've got
And I'm relieved we're finally through
Will you regret it? I will not

Past

There is no news today. I sense it'll be an invisible week... but sometimes it's good to have weeks that are just "there." These are the days when I get my thinking done so that I'm prepared to go on autopilot when I need to, and trust me, next week I'll definitely need to. I sang for two hours today, outside of any choirs or formal reasons... I just needed to practice for everything and I did, for two full hours. These are the days I get my practicing done so that I'm prepared to perform very well when I need to, and trust me, with the Christmas season already here and concerts for 3 different choirs this month plus a solo competition in January, I'll definitely need to.
I took a trip today... to my middle school. I haven't been there since probably early 2008 and I'd missed it... well, sort of. Hopefully this poem does justice to my little visit.

Past
I went to an old school today, I've not been there in years
That life seems now so far away--I'm too old, it appears
The halls I once looked forward to, where I knew every face
It's odd to think of it as through, a truly changed place

The kids have so much energy--was I ever that small?
Old teachers try to talk to me, I can't relate at all
The sights and smells of that old spot are still familiar
But just nostalgia--I cannot imagine learning there

The kids I once wished to impress--I don't remember why
Perhaps because they were well dressed... Well they're as gone as I
And no one else cares anymore about our once-friendships
And three full years within those doors, with memories and secrets

I went to my old school today, hoping for times returned
Yet that life seems so far away for all I thought I'd learned
How awkward now, to think of how I wished it all would last
But life moves on, those days are gone, and now I'm glad they've passed

For Christmas

The second poem I wrote while sitting at the mall. No worries, though, this one's in English

For Christmas
"What would you like for Christmas, my dear?
Ask of me anything"
All that I'd like for Christmas, I fear,
Is what you cannot bring
A time every day to sit and think
And watch people going by
The courage to talk with anyone—
Deeply or just a "hi"
A friend who will listen and laugh and hug
Whenever I am in need
And someone each hour whose day I can make
So as to have done a good deed
To talk to amigos in Paris in Spain
Because it's been a while
And some spontaneity within each day—
That's sure to make me smile
The knowledge that somewhere in this wide world
Somebody cares for me
Acceptance by everyone of what I am
Just to let me be
A passion for whatever I may do
To make each moment glad
A hand to hold on my worse days
To wipe tears when I'm sad
"Well honey, I'd like to give you a gift
To bring your life some zest"
Great appreciation for all that I've got
That's certainly the best

Sentando, Mirando

Sorry for not writing... a lot...
It's been a busy weekend and I've had a ton to do this week, but the week was stressful and the weekend was quite the opposite. My friend had a birthday party today, and we went into Seattle and gave people free hugs. You have no idea how much a hug can do for someone until you go around giving them out for free, especially in a city as open as Seattle. I really enjoyed it, and it was a great experience as friends as well as a chance to make people's days. In any case, I was at a busy mall before my friends arrived, and I sat for an hour and just people-watched and thought about... whatever... because I could, because I had an hour. I wrote this little poem in the meantime and started another but didn't finish so perhaps I'll post it tomorrow
Unfortunately, this too is in spanish and will therefore be a bit difficult to read for those of you who... well... don't speak it :P

Sentando, Mirando
En esta silla—sentando, sentando
Yo veo la gente—mirando, mirando
A veces riendo, yo llevo sonrisa
Quzás esperando alguna sorpresa
Tengo una hora sin gente a ver,
Lugares a ir, ni cosas hacer
Pero estoy feliz mientras yo me siento
Y estoy segura del frio y viento

Waiting

Advent began a couple days ago. Of course, I didn't realize until mom pointed it out last night, but I was highly disappointed. Usually, there's no chance of me missing something so important to my holiday season, but when it started I was too busy appreciating Amiga's birthday and... Playing frisbee with the cross country team and... Learning Italian arias...
The thing is, advent has never really had a religious significance for me. To me, it's just another symbol that the holiday season has begun, with our big advent calendar in the hall and mini chocolate ones my dad's godmother used to give us each year. Nowadays, my mom scorns the way Christmas has been taken so out of its religious context and turned into a commercial holiday, and advent's significance as an excuse for chocolate is just another example of that, but I don't mind. We don't get chocolate anymore, but I like traditions, and I can appreciate a season of holiday wishes and sugar plum dreams, whether or not it has a religious context
Not that I don't celebrate the aspect of Christmas as a religious holiday, and I do think it's a bit silly when radio stations talk about "the true meaning of christmas" as spreading joy and love (as opposed to getting gifts) when really the true meaning is the birth of Christ and the rest is secondary, but I understand where the radio stations are coming from of course
I think I was going to write a poem about being too busy, but the Taylor Swift one should suffice for now
Last night, as I was studying for four different tests and trying to finish five different long-term assignments that I'd procrastinated on, I had a moment where I stopped working and just... Thought. I kind of do that a lot, which is probably why so much of my work gets put off to begin with.  In my somewhat random, not-so-positive, past-midnight state of mind, I realized just how much time I spend waiting, even if not directly in the form of sitting and doing nothing. Hopefully the poem will speak for itself on the rest...
Also, I want to know what you think of the "rhyme" scheme

Waiting
I'm waiting and waiting and waiting
For something--though I don't know what
Just waiting for this to be over
--whatever it is--to be done

You never would know just to watch me
In class or on runs or at home
I'm writing and running so quickly
As if hurrying to the unknown

And perhaps that is just what I'm doing
Just biding my time while I wait
While I wait for the great unexpected
Would I even know if it came?

When I walk to school it is freezing
And I rush while I wait for the warmth
But class starts and I wait for the next bell
Like impatience could make it seem short

I sit through consecutive lectures
In calculus, english, and gov
And stare at the clock all the while
Confused and just bored when they're tough

I look forward to something greater
But what's there to look forward to?
I know that tomorrow's no different
And I've nothing better to do

Perhaps, though, the hope is not in vain
If it can keep me satisfied
The thought that something might be better
Though I know not what, or what time

Sin Amiga

First Spanish poem! (First that you'll read anyway)
I've been really busy this week, which doesn't bode well for the rest of the holiday season because I just get more and more busy as it gets closer to Christmas, but I've been quite inspired. Sometime, I'll turn all that inspiration into real poetry, and then life will be... decent.
Quite a bit recently, I've realized how much I depend on friends. Some days I just need a hug, but sometimes I really need someone to listen to me for quite a while, without judging or getting bored or anything else. I found this poem in my spanish binder today and realized I hadn't posted it. I won't translate (Sorry... use an online translator if you're that curious?) but it's called "without a friend" and is just about the value of friendship, which applies to my life a ton right now as stress increases :P

Sin Amiga
Sin un trabajo, no estoy feliz
Me falta comida, ropa nueva, lujos
Siempre registrando, nunca encontrando,
Me siento frustrada, pero sobrevivo

Sin un novio, pues yo puedo vivir
Quizás estoy triste y quiero alguien
Tengo celos de chicas que los tienen
Quizás desesperada, yo sobrevivo

Sin música, ¡Ay, qué mala es la vida!
Me falta inspiración, alegría, consuelo
Me aburre la vida y odio el silencio,
Pero puedo cantar, y yo sobrevivo

Sin mi salud, tengo menos energía
Estoy llena de calor y después lleno de frío
Tengo mucho dolor, quiero vomitar
Aunque cansada, yo sobrevivo

Pero sin amiga, adiós, mundo bello
No tengo motivo vivir o reír
Dinero, novio, música, y salud
¿Qué son? Sin amiga me muero de alma.

Tránsito, the Traveler

If you have not read House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende, this will not make sense. My apologies. If you have, though, it should be interesting. In English last year (when I read it), our teacher gave us a creative assignment at the end of the semester. It was fairly simple and I can't remember all of the details, but we had to write something (I can't remember if it had to be a poem or not) about one of the characters that showed an in-depth understanding of the character. House of the Spirits spans a period of about 60 years and has quite a few characters who could be considered main characters, but as I'm sure to have mentioned earlier, I try to be a little original so I didn't do anyone who could be considered a main character at any point in the novel. I wrote a poem about the character Tránsito Soto, a prostitute who comes up quite a few times in the novel and ends up becoming rather successful and helping the Trueba family (the subject of the book) quite a bit at one point. Nonetheless, she can at no point in the novel be considered a main character, which is what I liked about her.

A couple friends asked me to post this one, so I will

Tránsito, the Traveler
Tránsito, the traveler
Soto, the thicket

Travel, the girl who changes much throughout her life
Travel, you move yourself by foot, peso, and pain
Travel, keep going though this job cuts like a knife
Travel, you’ll leave rather than get stuck in the chain

Thicket, untamed and still untamable are you
Thicket, they come to conquer you but you are strong
Thicket, you hide so much beyond your outer shell
Thicket, they see you as disgraceful but in truth it’s you they wrong

Travel, new scenery each year, each week, each hour
Travel, same vehicle through half a century
Travel, though female, your gender sustains your power
Travel, the woman that the rest aspire to be

Thicket, you started small, a couple dying seeds
Thicket, you grow until you reach immense success
Thicket, the poor girl works hard to fulfill her needs
Thicket, defy what’s there, grow tall and strong, progress

Poor girl, Chilean minds would scorn you with no thought
Poor girl, your gender, social class, disgraceful job
Woman, you thrive where all the weaker workers rot
Woman, you work, help, love, save lives, and never sob

Tránsito, the traveler
Soto, the thicket

Taylor Swift

I should explain.
I do not like Taylor Swift. I get that the personalities celebrities display in front of cameras are completely different from who they are, and I realize I'm nobody to judge anyone else's personality, especially if it is an intentional front (Not that only celebrities put up fronts... my goodness no). I just don't like her music. I'm not a huge fan of country, I don't like the way she sings, I don't like the message in her songs. I owe her a bit of an apology, though, because I also do not ~hate~ her, just her music bugs me, and perhaps I should not title this poem based on that fact. The other thing is that my sister loves Taylor Swift's music, which 1) means I automatically don't like it too much because I have this need to be different from my sister and 2) means that I hear it a lot. A lottttttttttttttttttttttttttt. Because she has speakers and I don't. Really, though, I just hear it a lot and I don't like it. It doesn't ruin my day, but it distracts me when I'm working (or trying to write a poem because... music in the background is already poetry and that makes it very difficult to think) and serves to worsen my mood if I'm having a bad day... which is kind of what this poem is about... kind of...

Taylor Swift
My sister's playing Taylor Swift
And I can't stand the noise
But I won't let it get to me
I'm cool and calm and poised

I have a test in calculus
To study for today
But Quotient Rule has me confused
Study though I may

Mom says I should take out the trash
And get the mail, and weed
"I'd love to, mom, but not right now"
"Oh honey, will you please?"

I have two new Italian songs
And one new Broadway tune
Plus choir pieces I should learn
Well, I'll get on that soon

And some kids in FPS club
Still cannot understand
I'll write them some curriculum
And teach it when I can

My friends are hanging out this week
And I hate saying no
But that's just why I'm overbooked
And hence I cannot go

I've got a gov project to do
And dad wants me to mop
Of course the speech I said I'd write—
No! Everybody stop!

I'd love to do each one of those
But all at once? That's it.
Too many pulls too many ways
And soon I'll have to quit

My sister's playing Taylor Swift
And I just cannot think
Where's the unfettered, smiling me?
For now, only in ink

The Moment

I won't use names on this blog, but I have a wonderful friend who I call "amiga," and will refer to her by that from here on out. Amiga cares a ton for a ton of different people, but she has trouble figuring out what she wants to do with her life. I guess all high schoolers do, but because she is such a good friend, I hear about it a lot from amiga. A few days ago she brought this up, and she was talking about the idea that "forever is now" because really, the "now" is what really existsWhile this poem doesn't deal with the philosophical idea that the past is gone and can never return, and that the future has not happened yet and therefore will not exist until the precise moment when it is the now (this is a bit scientific and I am... not... which is why I write poetry :P), it is inspired by the simple quote of forever being the now, and of course by amiga herself :)

The Moment
"I want it now!" The rich folk say
As all the others scorn their greed
But honestly, they've got a point
They know just what they want and need

Chipmunks spend the entire fall
Stocking up for winter's snow
But they're having no fun at all
And they've just let a season go

Running can bring me quite a rush
But oh! the training it requires!
Is it really worth all that pain
For seconds of fulfilled desires?

Perhaps there is no "overall"
"For me, it's been a happy year"
What matters, then, is always small
The moments and the nows, my dear

You cannot change your yesterdays
For they've already come and gone
Tomorrow is so far away
Not worth thought til today is done

"Goodbye forever! You'll be missed!"
They tell you, and perhaps it's true
But you'll be missed because of all
The minute, friendly things you do

Supposing you can't change the world
Or save a life, or rule the land
Then change a million people's nows
And change the world, you surely can

My Friend

My Friend
Do you remember me, my friend?
It seems so long ago
That I had to take leave, my friend
But I have missed you so

Do you remember how, my friend,
We used to laugh and play?
Could we laugh like that now, my friend?
Make memories for a day?

Could I show you a spot, my friend,
That I think you should see?
We could go there a lot, my friend
Hang out, just you and me

Could you show me a place, my friend,
You go when you feel bad?
A sunny, grassy space, my friend
I'll hold you when you're sad

You want to be good friends again
But how, you're just not sure?
Give me your ear and love me dear
Since that's what friends are for

Keep it Up

This could apply to quite a few people, although I wrote it about a specific friend
In a sense, though, it applies to all high school students

The rhyme scheme is off just a bit... sorry :(
And I need a new title- suggestions welcome

Keep It Up
I have a friend who I adore
A good old friend-I ought to add-
Who knows what he is looking for
And works hard, for he wants it bad

Who wants success in school, then work
Follows instructions to a T
But he gets so frustrated when
His plans don't work out perfectly

And this athletic friend of mine
Shows up at practice every day
He works so hard in hopes he'll find
Results are turning out his way

But what can he be dreaming of
With college apps so well composed?
Does he think someday he will love
His stuffy job and fancy clothes?

Though I admire his diligence
I couldn't bear his plain lifestyle
And though his work may be intense
I hope he finds it all worthwhile

I have a friend who I adore
Whose life goals are to work and give
But I'm searching for something more
And will not cease, long as I live

Not Afraid

This poem is exactly what its title implies
It doesn't resolve itself very well- I've always been bad at conclusions- but it's kind of the conclusion I came to when having a conversation with a friend about my fears a week or so ago.

Not Afraid
I shake when I'm in front of them
It's not that I'm afraid- I think
I simply always start to shake
When I'm on stage to talk or sing

I'm not afraid of very much
Except for needles and deep sea
There must be something frightening, though,
About those folks in front of me

Most of them aren't there to judge
And not like I'd mind anyway
Since I'm so cool and confident
It doesn't matter what they say

But something in me disagrees
Should I trust it? Well of course not!
For it's the heart that says to go
And just the head that says to stop

But what if I am all mixed up
And it's the heart that tells me no?
Perhaps I really am afraid
To let myself fully let go

What of it then? Why should I care
What other people think and feel?
They can't stop me from singing out
It's how I view myself that's real

My head tells me it's frivolous
To care if they should disapprove
But maybe within all our hearts
Each of us is afraid to lose

Fourth Grade

I know I said I was including one poem per post, but the flow of this blog would be severly disrupted if I included a bunch of posts from fourth grade. However, I found a poetry journal from fourth grade called "Playing with Poetry" and thought I should post these. They're daily assignments, but some of them I like :)

My favorite part of this poem is the first line... because I definitely remember it being a significant problem in my life at the time
I Hate It When...
I hate it when my brother is trying to pee
And he opens the door so the whole world can see
I hate it when my friends are going to move
And they never really ask if I disapprove
I hate it when I have many things to do
'Cause then my smiles are never really true
I hate it when no one does play with me
Because I have good things that they do not see

"Like" Poems
A sponge is just like a piece of swiss cheese
A smile is like a cool summer breeze
My thoughts are just like a cloud full of dreams
A contest is like people going on teams
My mother is like warm and fuzzy sheep's wool
A trash can is like blank paper- boring and dull
Mint is just like fruit that grows from a tree
And happiness is like a soft melody

"May" Poems-Theme: gross :P
May the monkey use slugs as food?
May Queen Victoria be rude?
May plankton chase and eat a hare?
May forillas sing? May they dare?
May the chimpanzee eat tofu?
May rats and mice go charge on you?
May the manta ray read a book?
May termites or skunks learn to cook?

Alone Poems
Alone is when you have an idea that no one else accepts
And alone is when people don't accept you for who you are
And alone is when people tell you that someone eles is mean when you really know that they're nice
And alone is being teased
And alone is when you're not good at one thing so people think that you're not good at anything
And alone is when you are blamed for something that someone else did

Formula Poems
There are two of these... I think the second was unfinished

Love
Love is when you see someone who you haven't seen in a long time
Love is when you adopt someone new into the family
Love is telling the truth, even when it is cold and sad
Love is doing something for someone just out of a kind heart
Love is forgiving a mistake
Love is standing up for someone else
Love is a good friend
Love is family
Love is what should fill the world

Wisdom
Wisdom is knowing what to do
Wisdom is doing what you know is right
Wisdom is teaching others what you know
Wisdom is not pretending that something will happen when it will not

I Am Sadness
I am sadness
I take over those who let me
I am sadness
Tears are made of me
I am sadness
I work best when alone
I am sadness
When there is too much of me, death comes
I am sadness
When I good person dies, I have it easy
I am sadness
I am caused many ways
I am sadness
I have many effects
I am sadness

You Don't Miss it While You're There

I'm not a huge fan of long poem titles, and there's a chance I'll change this when I think of something better.
This summer, my church choir went on an 8-day trip to Costa Rica. We really grew as a choir and we loved the country, for all of its eccentricities. The day we left, though, I was talking to a friend about the trip and she said something that mirrored my thoughts quite nicely. She'd loved every minute-she loved the people, the plants, the way we got to know each other, the spontaneity of the trip, the relaxed atmosphere, but it wasn't ~stunning~. Of course it was amazing, but sometimes people come back from these trips saying their lives had been completely changed, or with a whole new perspective of the world, and we... just didn't. Looking back on it, though, I would give so much to be in Costa Rica right now. I love the holiday season, but you do grow to miss a place like that, and that whole group will never be together again because some are in college and there are new people who have joined the choir this year. Most of us see plenty of each other because we still have choir practice, but learning music in the US just isn't the same as performing the music you've rehearsed a thousand times, and in a place like Costa Rica in front of an audience that may not have ever heard choral music, or waking up each day to fresh tropical fruit juice and snacking on fried bananas. I guess I could call it "Ode to a Choir Tour..." hmmm...

Costa Rica Poem
It is now four months ago
That we got on a plane to go
To warm beaches and humid air
But you don't miss it while you're there

Rainforest plants with massive leaves
Warm rain but we'll still wear short sleeves
And zip lining through jungle skies
With gorgeous Costa Rican guides ;)

Tropical juice with every meal
This place has such a friendly feel
Toucans and monkeys in our yard!
Each flow'r would make a great postcard

Bananas fried for our dessert
Autographs after one concert
A world of Costa Rican flair
But you don't miss it while you're there

Bus drivers who we loved so much
Huge bugs we were afraid to touch
The children danced so wonderfully
Then asked us "will you dance with me?"

Gabi, who we'll never forget
And all the colones we spent
Kind shopkeepers and priests alike
And guides on that rainforest hike

The kids at one of our fun shows
Taught us "head, shoulders, knees, and toes"
The painted carts in each gift shop
Where we'd make the bus drivers stop

Ticos who were so kind to us
And waved at each big tourist bus
Who never ceased to show they cared
But you don't miss it while you're there

The way we bonded as a choir
When we found our conditions dire
The dance party in that hotel
Although I wasn't feeling well

The birds whenever we performed
The friendships that our smiles warmed
A college choir of such good friends
Of course, Kate's dad's great camera lens

Our giant yellow shirted blob
Or else, the "pura vida" mob
And learning to be versatile
Improving friendships all the while

We laughed at Adiemus then
Not knowing we'd look back on when
Those motions were our day-to-day
Chance to sing as one, and play

All-too-long talks of chivalry
And gun laws still don't interest me
Long bus rides and our spanish talks
A crazy mono I am not!

And staying up til 4 am—
An act the leaders would condemn
Your itch gel has a hummingbird?
No, a mosquito—that's absurd!

Farewell at that Brazillian place
Boy altos singing "Like a Bass"
Hemp bracelets from an awesome friend
We almost forgot it would end

But soon enough we board the plane
Good bye Ticos and summer rain
The US just cannot compare
But you don't miss it while you're there

Release

Sorry for not writing
Of course once I said I would write a poem a day and really committed to it, I became way too busy to do so. However, I started a poem each day because each day I told myself I'd catch up. I just... never finished them
I'm finishing these between posts, so they'll be a little out of order. Sorry about that :P

So this is Wednesday's poem. Quite a few of my teachers gave good sized tests or projects this past week because it gives them all of Thanksgiving break to grade them, which is part of the reason I didn't finish the poems on time. Of course I didn't have school yesterday (Thursday...Thanksgiving) but I had a calculus test in my last class on Wednesday and spent half an hour trying to figure out how to solve a problem one way, only to reread the instructions and find that I was supposed to solve it a different way. After that, I just couldn't focus and the rest of the problems seemed completely unmanageable (though when I thought about them that evening, i could figure out the answers to at least three of them easily). Between a couple social stresses and tensions built up from the week, I didn't know what to do with myself. I looked for friends and finally found one of my closest friends in the government classroom—they were going to watch a historical movie half an hour after school ended. I hugged her and just started crying uncontrollably. Why? I wasn't really sure... and because of the movie there were quite a few other kids in the room who just kind of... didn't know what to do. I don't cry that often and I definitely don't like crying in front of people, but sometimes it's healthy just to let things go. I had a voice lesson afterwards, and discovered how much easier it is to sing when you can really let things go. Walking home, I thought of the first few lines to this one

Release
What matters is just the release
The others will fit in somehow
But find something that gives you peace
And find something you can do now

Don't look for the easy way out
So you can avoid facing fears
For trying is what life's about
But find a place to dry your tears

A hobby that's freeing and fun
And doesn't require a thing
In springtime I'll go for a run
These days I stay indoors and sing

Find someone who'll listen to you
Who never will judge or complain
And someone you can listen to
So you can keep each other sane

Go look for a place of your own
A bench or a park or a tree
The rest will just have to condone
Your need to let yourself be free

What matters is just the release
A hobby, a place, and a friend
So that you can always find peace
No matter from what or til when

Cinquains

I would love to have some inspiring, uplifting poem to warm your hearts today, but I don't
Sorry
At four different points in the day, I tried to find inspiration. First I looked up poems in dactylic tetrameter (ONE two three ONE two three ONE two three ONE two three), looking for inspiration on a poem-perhaps even a song- about dancing. A little later, I read all of Shel Silverstein's Falling Up, to no avail. I asked a couple friends for random words—and they were quite random— but something in me just wasn't inspired to write a poem about chickens or pizza. Or red hair, tape, popsicles, bats, black Friday, bubbles, stars, ipods, balloons, migration, or any of the various other suggestions compiled by just two of my friends. I came home from a rehearsal hoping to be more inspired, but... I just wasn't
So I've put together some cinquains based on one of the random word suggestions, "boat." They don't follow the "subject-adjective-verb-feeling-synonym" format. They're just cinquains.

Boating

A boat
Rocks to and fro
Upon a quiet, peaceful lake
There is no need to row this boat
I don't

Small waves
They push and pull
As if to tip the boat
A timid girl would be afraid
Not I

I row
A little bit
For change of scenery
Then stop by a small grove of trees
Alone

I lie
Within the boat
The sun will keep me warm
I drift to sleep a little bit
And smile

Driving

And we're up to date.
This one looks a lot longer than it is, so no worries. This poem is, unfortunately, pretty accurate, and the real-life inspiration would be a drive I went on with my father just this morning. I don't have a license yet and driving is quite a stressful undertaking for me, as you're sure to tell. As a huuuuuge disclaimer to this poem, I love my father very much. After all, there's a reason I don't drive with my mother.

Driving
The garage is a good place for a car
It's safe and not too cold and never busy
But mostly the garage is a good place for a car
Because if the car is parked in the garage
I am not driving it

"Let's go!" dad calls, and so I do
But not because I want to go
Only because I know that if I do not drive
I will never get my license
And then I cannot go to choir practice

I back out of the driveway
And hope I do not hit the garbage cans
Especially since then dad will remember
I was supposed to put them back by the side of the house
Yesterday.

We go to Trader Joes to get maple syrup
I try to turn left in the parking lot
And then I realize there's an arrow on the pavement
Pointing the opposite way
I go to the next row of cars
and try to park... Just barely on the line
Oops

I want to adjust my side mirrors, but we're on a hill
So I just back out and then we leave
And daddy says I need to switch lanes
Faster! Now! Are you paying attention?
Yes I am
But there are so many things to pay attention to while driving
And my side mirrors still need to be adjusted

Somehow we get to an on-ramp
And now I really  need to go faster
Dad makes sure to tell me this
Faster! Faster! Faster!
Get up to sixty!

Sixty miles per hour
Just think of that
A fifteen second lap
The fastest lap ever run was 43 seconds
Which is still ridiculously fast
Erin are you paying attention?
No
Sorry
Keep accelerating, I tell myself
Check your mirrors
Look for an opening
Keep accelerating
"You don't look a day over fast cars and freedom"
I turn the radio off
It's too distracting
Besides, I am clearly too young for fast cars

Accelerate
Mirror check
It's raining—turn on the wipers
Check speedometer
Nope, too fast
Decelerate
Are you paying attention, Erin? The car in front of you is changing lanes
Yes I am paying attention
I was busy decelerating
And my side mirrors still need to be adjusted

Off-ramp
Erin, slow down!
I am slowing down
Erin, slow down faster!
This makes me think of physics
Velocity is the derivative of displacement
And acceleration is the derivative of velocity
What's the derivative of acceleration?
What is the term for "slowing down faster?"
Erin pay attention! You're on a curve! Slow down!
Sorry
I don't like physics anyway

This is not an off-ramp for long
I turn left and I'm on another on-ramp
Erin, speed up!
Why did I just slow down if I was going to speed up again?
I don't ask

I consider asking if I should adjust my mirrors while driving
Erin, are you paying attention to your speed?
You're on an on-ramp! Speed up!
Maybe I won't ask about the mirrors
Road, rear-view mirror, speedometer, wipers
Road, mirror, speed, wipers
Road, mirror, speed, wipers
Road, mirror, wipers—
Erin, speed up!
I'll try not to forget that one again

Off-ramp for a second time
Erin slow down, slow down, slow dowwwwwwn
You're not experienced enough to go that fast around a curve
This ends in a traffic light, you're still wayyy too fast.
I don't understand
I was pressing the brake hard the whole time, and I was slowing down
A lot
But we're off the freeway now
So I'm safe
Well... Relatively.

We pass the blueberry farm
I remember picking blueberries when I was little
My sister and I used to pick buckets full, and then mom would make jam
Once, she forgot her license when she was buying them
Which reminds me
That I'm driving

We get to a hill that is not too steep but very, very long
"This is a really tough hill to run"
No response
I'll stop talking and focus on accelerating because I am going up a hill
But honestly
It is a very tough hill

And we're back
To my neighborhood, to my street, to my house
Which is good because if he had made me drive any longer
I might have died
Perhaps literally

I hate to say "I told you so"
But all I have learned from this drive I already knew
The garage is a good place for a car
Because if the car is parked in the garage
I am not driving it

Full

We analyzed Frost's "Out, Out—" in class on Friday, but I doubt that was the inspiration for this one. I wanted to write a poem that included a motif, and this one clearly refers to food. There are quite a few people to whom I could say this poem refers, although I didn't intentionally write it about anyone. I'm not sure if I ought to put a space between each stanza or just let it all sit there in a big clump.

Full
Perhaps it's just too much, she doesn't know it yet
This tangy sustenance may take a while to digest
They're all as sweet as pie, and say they love her so
But cramped in high opinions she can't find the room to grow
That guy in Spanish class, the girl who sure can dance
Each one is such a friendly soul—she'll give them all a chance
"I'll teach you calculus!" "I'll help you with your chords!"
And sure enough, connections  bring some noteworthy rewards
It's quantity that counts when you start all alone
If the skin is delicious you can throw away the bone
But wait--who will she choose when life's falling apart?
They all adore her but she knows not one of them at heart
She'll fill herself with food, to find each dish unmarked
A pity she can eat no more and still she feels she's parched

A Park

We started a poetry unit in English this week, starting with Robert Frost
It occurred to me on Thursday to write a poem a day, so I'll be trying to keep that up as long as the unit lasts, perhaps much longer.
I'm enjoying it already— the three top activities I participate in (singing, running, and worshipping) all provide a release from the stresses of everyday life. Poetry is like that too, but instead of getting away from daily life you can express ideas about it in a form that is beautiful and, well, poetic.
This one I wrote on Thursday, after analyzing Frost's well known "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"
I realize parts are awkward and, yes, a couple of the rhymes are forced.
Feel free to comment with suggestions

A Park
A week or so ago I found a park
A quiet place, and not too far away
I told myself "this place I ought to mark
So I can come back on a brighter day"

I thought to sit and rest a little while
Beneath an autumn's vibrant maple tree
Watch blithely as the leaves begin to pile
With nobody around to bother me

But skies of grey deterred me and, alas,
I walked right by, so sure that I'd return
In selfishness I let the moment pass
Climate control was never my concern

I'd like to go today, but now it pours
What I would give for last week's overcast
To take a break from my routine of chores
And let life's little momentito last

This rain could fall for months and never cease
The park may flood before I go again
To think I found a world of calm and peace
And rashly thought it so commonplace then

I oughtn't fret about a little cloud
How I regret it now! I'll never boast
That I should be so spoiled and so proud
To miss my chance at what I needed most

No One Else

First romantic poem!
Well, the first one you'll see anyway.
I stated somewhere on this blog that I believe all art is inspired, whether consciously or not, which means I'm not allowed to say this has nothing to do with my life, but I will say it's not intended to reflect my own life, and is probably inspired by songs I've heard much more than anything personal.

This is written as a song and has a tune, though just one in my head. There are parts where I know the singing stops and there are little piano interludes, and I have those piano parts in my head too. The version on my computer even specifies a couple crescendos and a few ritardandos, but I won't interrupt the poem by including them here.

No One Else
Nobody can make me smile like you can
No one else can hold me tight the way you do
Not a soul has taught me all that you have
And there's no one I dream abut the way I dream of you

To imagine leaving you would be horrendous
And to think of someone else, just so far fetched
To consider giving up all that I've known and loved and wanted
All this time

It was you who filled my life with laughter
You alone convinced me I had somewhere to belong
Dancing, running, just to smile at you babe
Only you've made me so sure that nothing could go wrong

I've allowed myself to fall deep, deep, deep, deep in love with you
Kept steady by your arms, my one support
Dependent on your strength for all my flaws and fears and failures
And if you were to leave...

There's no one who can break a heart like you can
No one else can ruin me the way you have done
You lead me to a mountaintop, I sleep in your embrace
Wake up, you're gone...

So here's a song for you my piece of sunshine
The one you always talked about, my heart composed for you
Goodbye to our forevers, you've forgotten anyway
And I'll get by...
Hold my head high...
At least... I'll try...

Why Not?

I'm not posting many today
Sorry
Maybe you'll see the rest of my old poems someday, or maybe they'll be lost forever in notebooks in my room and files on my computer
For my eyes only

But here's one I wrote a month or two ago on the way home from practice

Why Not?
Why not smile a little  bigger?
Why not laugh a little harder?
Why not hug a little tighter, stand a little taller, play a little freer

They ask me why, but I need no reason
The real question is why not

Who can say if she'll be a good friend?
Perhaps you won't like her, then you'll drift apart
But say she's amazing and you only missed it
Because you were as afraid as she was to make one new friend

Why not learn to dance?
Why not socialize with the homeless?
Why not kiss a stranger, help a toddler, visit the theater?

They say only to risk what you're willing to lose
They tell you not to fall for someone unless they're willing to catch you
Well what if?
What if that one time, you fall for him and he backs away?
You'll bruise your back, but bruises heal
What doesn't kill you can only make you stronger, and I promise it won't kill you
And what if he does catch you?
Isn't it worth a few falls on the ground for the chance you could land in someone's arms?
Which is worse, the risk of giving too much or the risk of taking no chances at all?

So smile a little bigger, and laugh a little harder
Give a little more from your wallet, your advice, your strength, and your heart
Hug a little tighter and stand a little taller
Let yourself go because nobody wants to live a captive of their own silly concerns
Surf the Pacific, climb the Appalachians, see the Grand Canyon

After all, why not? 

Disco Ball

I hesitate to publish this one. I will say I was very irritated when I wrote it, but you should also know that the person described in this is quite misrepresented, and has changed enough now that the character in the poem is really nothing like her real-life inspiration.
Again, it was written at least three years ago

Disco Ball
Hangs in with the popular crowd, shows up at great parties.
Makes no light of her own, but always reflects that of others so that it seems like hers.
Sometimes the light is pretty, sometimes not so much.
Never is it bright enough to be good for anyone, but so many are fooled by reflections.
Constantly spinning, turning, changing. None can tell what will happen to her next.
Yet they will come if she is there.
They do not care her speed or color. They don’t notice she is hollow.
She hangs from a string, but nobody knows, nobody cares. With light she has everyone fooled.
Yet usually, she is not at parties. Usually she is stored away, packed in a box, forgotten.
People are pleased to hear of her, but those who see her in her box are bored.
They laugh and say “so that is the light of the party? Ha!”
They smile at their reflections on her mirrors.
Those who have seen her without light scoff, for they know she is nothing.
A product of mankind with no spirit, no soul.
Belonging in a box with a handwritten label

A label that reads “disco ball.”

Who am I?

This was an assignment in eighth grade; we were asked to express who we were in some form of writing.
In it I reference my years as a dancer, so I should explain that I was an Irish step dancer for four years until running took over my life (only in the best way :D) and I discovered the overuse injuries that resulted in trying to do both.

Who Am I?
Erin the great dancer, she’s such a talented girl
You should see her kick so high and hop and point and twirl
And she looks so professional when her hair’s up in curls
Her smile adds the final touch, she truly is a pearl
People say that I’m so good but really they don’t know
Think I’m something great, in truth I’m just part of the show
Sure I practice hard and do okay, but even so
You’d think someday they’d realize I’ll never be a pro

One beautiful singer with a voice that’s crystal clear
Making music glorious for everyone to hear
Put her to the microphone and she’ll sure get a cheer
That sweet voice could get her far in a singing career
They think I sing oh so well and yet they have no clue
How much practice it takes me to do just what I do
And still I sing so quietly that luckiest are you
If you even get to hear my voice so bright and true

She’s a writer and a very smart, artistic kind
Takes two random ideas and makes them intertwined
And she is so eloquent, her poems so refined
She’s not afraid to say a word; she knows what’s on her mind
Others see that I write often and think I must be great
Assume I’ll have a great career brought to me on a plate
But they will have no tolerance if I am not first rate
And by the time they notice that it might be kind of late

Erin is a great camp partner, she’s experienced a lot
She’s dealt with both the wet and cold as well as dry and hot
And when it comes to backpacking, a novice she is not
When we are boating she’s always the hardest to be caught
When people see I like outdoors, they think I should live there
A rock climber or park ranger out in the open air
They forget how much I loathe animals covered in hair
And just maybe I want to live life sitting in a chair

People try to prove they know me, they point at me and say,
“That’s the girl who ought to do this or that every day”
They think I ought to be myself in one specific way
I ought to find my passion and say, “this is how I’ll stay”
I am an independent girl; I just want to be free
I don’t yet know who I am; I’m still deciding you see
For I cannot label myself nor try to define me
Since I am still discovering just who I want to be

Judgments

This was written at least three years ago, but I don't remember when beyond that
It's definitely not one of my best, but it has an important message

Judgments
Hang a poster on your wall of your favorite singer
Tell your friends how she got to where she is
Her poor family traveled far to give her voice a chance
The competition brought her to show biz

Perhaps your idol’s not like that; he’s much more of a nerd
He works with math or politics or art
And he, too, had to struggle just to make himself heard
But you know each one of his works by heart

Or maybe you admire some astonishing athlete
With strength or speed or flexibility
It wasn’t easy for that girl to get to where she is
But now she works out where the world can see

Either way they all have struggles, each one tells its tale
And all the world’s impressed at what they hear
And yet some of the greatest stories never have been told
Their victims suffer poverty or fear

Most women in Africa walk six miles every day
Just to get water for their families
They’ve struggled much more than any buff actor ever will
Yet when they struggle, no one ever sees

There’s fighting in the senate and the whole world stops to watch
And you don’t say! A great man was just killed
Yet war and third world genocides have killed so many more
And they’re ignored, their causes unfulfilled

A mountain climber died today, the air was just too thin
He was working so hard to reach his goals
The world mourns the ending of one who really did his best
But don’t all those who die have wondrous souls?

There’s nothing wrong with being great and known the world around
But please, oh please, never be self-obsessed
And be aware that less known folks can try as hard as stars
The soul’s the same, so forget who’s best dressed

And for one moment, maybe two, try to imagine if
Your soul could live the lifestyle of a star
You’d certainly be as good as any celebrity
You and your great idol would be on par

Maybe now you have realized it all comes down to this
Famous people were born to have the skill
Our strength, our brains, and our beauty are out of our control
Fame depends on who’s learned to have the will

So next time you meet someone new, be sure you do not judge
Their self worth based on anything they do
First see what they cannot control and maybe you will see
They succeed in the life they’re born into.

Putting up old poetry

So

I started a blog

we'll see how this goes

I'm only writing one post per poem, so November 2009 will have quite a few

Oh well

This is the oldest poem I have on record (or at least typed up) but definitely not the first poem I ever wrote

It was an assignment in fifth grade: write a poem using the word of the week, which was "diverge"

According to My Uncle

According to my uncle, a star is created when a big sugar cube decides to diverge
According to my uncle, there is a thunder storm simply because all of the clouds have the urge
According to my uncle, the sun shows off its pride in a rainbow for everyone to see
According to my uncle, he’ll be a monkey’s uncle, though I would rather be a chimpanzee.