I like the concept of the previous (not-so-well-done) poem I did; the idea of the speaker introducing the subject as a different person and talking to the subject and describing the actions of both the speaker and subject, and then at the end revealing that the subject is the speaker's reflection.

I just really don't like my poetry. At all. I think occasionally I have good ideas, but I don't like my implementation of these ideas, with very few exceptions ("The Road" is one such exception).

I guess I like my prose more than my poetry, though neither come from a well-educated background. Uhh, I think my last creative writing class was in middle school. :/

I am trying to decide if I should try to rewrite the poorly implemented poem about the reflection, and do it as a prose piece, or if I should let it lie. I really, really like the concept, but I don't forsee being able to do it the justice I think it deserves.

Maybe someone else out there will take the idea and run with it? I know at least two people reading this are writers (one of you is -exceptional-); if any of you find the idea interesting and want to use it, I'd like to see where you would take it.

In the meantime, maybe I'll think about rewriting it as a prose piece. But I've got another piece I want to do the same thing with - go from poem to short story - and I don't know which I'd prefer to work on first. I am sure you will all be squirming with the anticipation of it all. Uhh. Or not.

I smile at you. "Race me to the top of the hill?" I ask, secure in the knowledge that you won't accept the jovial challenge. We're both huffing and puffing at the minor incline of the path, and it seems clear to me that neither of us could manage to make the short distance at any semblance of a run.

You hesitate, but only for a moment. "Sure," you say.

I stop in mid-step. "Huh?" Perhaps I mis-heard, or perhaps you misunderstood my question. Though a portion of me revels in the idea of this silly challenge, the saner part of my mind realizes how utterly silly it is, and how humiliated I could be by my oh-so-poorly toned body. You glance at me, and I realize I've paused. I begin walking again. "To the top of the hill. Really? You'll race me?"

"Sure," your bright smile repeats. "Why not?"

Incredulous, I slowly shake my head. Then, meeting your vibrant eyes, I laugh. "Okay," I say, "let's go!"

We light off along the trail. I hear your footfalls very close to my own, only a step behind. I run hard, for me, which is to say I run like a galloping walrus. I don't glance behind to see your beautiful form and how you run, I just plod onward up the rocky track, narrowly missing a hard clump of horse scat. How elegant that might seem; a galloping walrus with a shoeful of equine dung.


I am nearly gasping for air, but I notice a smile has spread across my face. I am full of glee as I realize my prize ahead, only another five meters away. You are right on my heels; I force my legs to widen their stride. Just a few steps bring me to the top. I am laughing, laughing, and I turn and see you; you reach me and I attack you in a hug.

"I win!" I cry out, gasping.

You too are short of breath, and full of mirth. "Yes," you laugh, "you do! And what do you win?" you ask as your arms curl around me.

"You?" I ask, pushing forward for a kiss.

Your eyes are smiling brightly. "Then I win, too!"

We laugh and turn in slightly unsteady circles, giddy with endorphins and the freedom of living. Joy wells up in me at your magical words and the beautiful things you say to me. A cyclist passes us, smiling as he hears our professions to one another.

You take my hand and we begin up the next part of the inclining path. We continue to giggle as we catch our breath. Suddenly the uphill walk seems easy and we are no longer puffing.

I cast a sidelong glance at you. "How about to the next tree?"

You give me a grinning and slightly exasperated chuckle. "Sure," you say, "the next tree."

You are a few steps ahead of me; now I get to observe your running form and gait. Your back is straight, you are looking ahead, and you are almost elegant in your steps. With intense training, you could be an incredible runner. I realize there is no way I can catch up with you, but the adrenaline of the challenge is coursing through my blood and I can't stop now. I push myself fiercely to keep as close as I can, but you are always a few steps ahead.

The look of pure, intense happiness on your face is intoxicating as you turn to me. "Now you win!" I call. "And you win me!" I throw myself into your arms and again we are laughing together, gasping and panting.

We don't begin walking again yet. We hold each other, breathing heavily, and we smile uncontrollably at each other. I feel myself getting teary with the intensity of emotion that I feel for you. Our giddiness does not subside, but finally after a drink of water and several long, deliriously happy minutes, we continue up our path. We chat about Life and how much fun we are having.

A wicked little half-smile tugs at one side of my mouth as I say, "Top of the next hill?"

I dreamed last night of hiking with you.

Paths that were barely paths clung to crumbling rock faces; one small misstep would tempt the little trail into letting go of its precarious hold on the mountain.

Often I nearly turned to you to say to turn back, that the path was too treacherous, but I could not bring myself to do so. The terrifying, sun-gilded cliff face was beautiful, certainly, but it was the tantalizing view below us that drew me on. A wild and unruly forest spread out beneath our high vantage and spilled across broken, jagged mountains. Within those great crags were hidden wonders that we longed to claim as our own, if only for a short time. Or perhaps instead we wished to give of ourselves to those wonders for the fleeting duration of our stay.

Once, I sensed that you too wished to turn back. I had you stand next to me and I cupped your face in my hands, guided your view to the treasure that beckoned to me. Far below, past a frighteningly arduous hike, lay a round, magical lake, nestled into the teeth of the mountains. As you saw it, I felt your desire to quit the hike melt out of your thoughts, replaced by the same passion that filled me with the need to keep going. Even the knowledge that we would in time have to climb back up this treacherous rock face could not deter us.

We shared a need to see more, to reach what lay ahead, and so we continued to pick our way down the golden cliff wall, tempting fate and defying death with every precarious step.

I only wish it hadn't been a dream.

Furzeri

Tiny amber orb
Changes within
A twitch
A twist
A struggle
And life begins.

First, Silence.
Silence, then a gentle touch
Of raindrops on my bare shoulders,
Soothing,
Cooling my fire.
I may never be free,
But in this moment,
I live.

The rain sings
In whispers,
A million drops
On a million leaves,
Constant and droning.
I am washing away,
Lost
In an absence of thought.
I am the raindrops
The leaves
The small pools
Of gathered water
The soil
The curling movements of air
Too soft to call a breeze.

The rain slows,
Stops.
I crash back into myself.
Just a taste
Of freedom
Now
Trapped again
By all that I love.

I may never be free,
But once in a while
I can live.

You held me together
When I was falling apart
I lost sight of myself
Lost my hold on who I was
But you held on

When my life was crumbling
You were my pillar of strength
You were what I needed
When I could go no further
You guided me

I was all in pieces
A wreck that others had left
Discarded and alone
When no one else would be there
You stood by me

The mess my life was in
Was not yours, but you took it
You helped me mend myself
You eased the pain I was in
By being there

I didn't realize then
How much it must have hurt you
To see me torn apart
To watch me in my anguish
And still hold me

My bright beacon of light
You showed me I knew the way
You showed me I was strong
Showed me I didn't need you
And I thank you

For everything you did
For all that you were to me
For those many long hours
On aimless journeys of Life
Thank you always

When all the secret sounds of Life
Whisper not to go,
Listen quietly, you'll hear them,
And I know you'll know




Sometimes uninspiring little snippets like this end up morphing into something *completely* different.  Just wanted to jot this one down in case the basic feeling I had/have would work its way into lyrics or something like that.

But really, I'd better stop it with the lyrics until I get some music pounded out on paper.

I think I need:
(A) A keyboard or piano or electric piano
(B) A desk
(C) Manuscript paper
(D) Notation software
(D) A handheld voice recorder of some sort

But not until mundane necessities are under control.  Well, manuscript paper is cheap, so I can at least get started a bit.

Older piece, recreated from memory here....

Time's sands sift slowly through my hands
Each grain weaves a path past my fingers
Tiny crystals,
Tiny moments
I cannot grasp them;
I cannot stop the flow.

When we are one

A single crystal yields its descent
I can watch it shimmer,
See it dance
And in all of its facets are
     Your eyes,
          Your lips,
               Your kind heart,
                    Your tenderness.

This one moment of all moments is mine;
This one grain
     Of Eternity's vast dune,
Forever in my heart.

Never finished this piece.  Should've.  Might.  Meh.  Who knows.

From a tree to a girl....  I began writing this when my Tree - the greatest of a Grove I love dearly - fell, wishing that my anthropomorphizing could prove true, wishing that my Tree had a soul and that it would have felt some sort of human-type emotion for me. 

( Read This Unfinished Thingy )

My Tree hadn't been ready to fall....  would perhaps still be standing to this day, had one of his brothers not been nearly slaughtered by a storm - the top half of that Tree fell into the Great One with what must have been phenomenal force, and the incredible weight of the fallen top half of the massive Tree took my Great One down with it.  I suspect a tornado.  It was a wicked storm, as many in Kansas are.

Note to self: henceforth, get sentimental only about Trees that will outlive self.  ....  The last of my Grove may have already fallen by now....

This was written in 1995 originally and reproduced from memory in the Rediscovered Notebook.  I still know this one by heart, though.  Never really "lost" it, but glad to have it back on paper anyway.

I liked Geometry and regularly finished my work quickly, leaving me plenty of doodling and writing and reading time during class.  I was fourteen back then....  This was shortly after my first "real" Spring Break trip; my sister and I went to Carlsbad Caverns and I was very moved by emotions and sensations brought to me by venturing down into the Earth....



( Click Here For The Grotto )


There is a point in Carlsbad called "The Jumping Place".  I found it....  mesmerizing....  The feelings brought from that point in the cave and from the place in general inspired this bored-in-math-class poem.  For a twist, I decided to try making each two-line thingy (couplet?) begin with the same word.  It made for an awkward poem, but I still liked it.  Try though I might, I cannot find an appropriate image taken from this intensely moving site.

I wrote this some years ago....  Probably in 1999, or maybe 2000.

The portion suggesting a broken-hearted transformation had undergone serious reworking; I remember the original, hand-written in an old sketchbook, being far more awkward.

Despite the remaining awkwardness of parts of it, this is still an old favorite of mine.  I am sincerely delighted to have found this.

Without further ado....


( Click Here! You Know You Want To. )


It's signed "-SCS".  Again, I reconsider reverting my name.

While sorting through and hauling off all my fish stuff, I ran across a little spiral-bound, velcro-closed notebook.

( Rediscover My Notebook With Me! )

How beautiful to find things you never even realized were lost....

Inspired by a recent drive....






The Road

It creeps across hills in a ribbon of gray
Clinging precariously to cliffs
It hides around turns
Passes isolated trees
     That stand gnarled with time
It marches under precipices of rock
Curls around bends and over culverts
     That span small creeks in crevices
And it waits for me

I wish I had a Nectarine
I would eat it, were it green
Or ripe and juicy, big or small;
I would eat it - pit and all.

The inspiration for "methuselah_tree":

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Methuselah_(tree)

Methuselah tree is the oldest non-clonal life known. Methuselah has seen  nearly five thousand years.  There are two clonal forests that are older (one a whopping ~9,500 years old), but there is no other single tree - no other single life - older than Methuselah.

How fast our little human lives are; how rapidly we mature and expire.  Even were I to live an extraordinary 100 years, I would still be nothing more than the space of a passing thought to such an ancient life.  Not that trees think.  (Not that they don't, either.)

What has this being seen in its time?  The fall of civilizations, the rise of others, the construction of the Pyramids of Giza, the development of farcical religions and the events that gave rise to them....

So much time, so many, many seasons, to curl its toes into the rock and spread its twisted branches in the wind.

I want so desperately to meet this life.  I shall.  Soon.  I hope.

If you're not on my friends list, and you want to read/hear my lyrics, comment on this post and I'll add you as friend.

There is nothing so sacred as a Tree
That stands so nobly clad in brown
And spreads its arms, so high and free
Above its toes, deep in the ground.

(Ah, c'mon. Cut me some slack. I was, like, twelve, when I wrote it. It seemed appropriate as the first post here.)