Walking and Watching

Walking and Watching – by Julia

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I met a man the other day

Who walked exactly like you

Propelled by his head,

Rather than his feet;

Shoulders bent low,

As if he carried the weight of the worlds

Or just of that moment.

I met a boy the other day

Who had your eyes—

Great fawn’s eyes,

That are bold because of their ignorance

And afraid without knowing why—

{In utter focused abstraction}

I met a man the other day,

But he wasn’t you.

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Gravity

Gravity is a ghost,

Pulling receipts off tables

When no one is near.

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Hello, Again

Time – by Julia (me)

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(Time slips away)

A physical reminder each morning

As my calendar gets thinner:

Each day I pull off a page.

(Time slips away)

I’ve moved my clock to the bathroom counter—

The hands just moved so fast!

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It’s been a while.  I had a wonderful but busy summer, and then jumped (rather under-excitedly) into my freshman year of college.  Many things have changed in me this semester—I expected college to be a time of self-discovery, but I didn’t expect this much!

I haven’t been writing poetry as much, ergo I haven’t been processing as completely.  I’ll do my best to update once or twice a week, and maybe taking my mind off music theory classes will make me less morose 🙂

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Lament of the Shortness of Beauty

Beauty fades so quickly; e’en in nature it is so:

Each sunset only lasts a minute, each sunrise turns to gold.

Beauty is so fleeting—oh! and so, my love, are you.

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This came on while listening to Fleet Foxes and watching a very yellow sunset under very dark storm clouds.

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What to do?

“Don’t let me down—make sure you practice!”

He says sternly and points at the piano.

I smile and nod, inwardly protesting,

and wondering whatever I’ll do for 3 hours

3 hours each day practicing classical piano.

Somehow I must have gotten that wrong.

What’ll I do?

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What’ll I do, when all I want to do

is play Debussy till my legs are sore from

flutter pedal and holding the una corda.

All I want to do is

play guitar, and sing, and brew tea and light a candle outside.

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What’ll I do when all I want to do is

read Pippi Longstocking, Longfellow, Crime and Punishment—

whenever I want to.

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What’ll I do?  I’ll do what I want to do—

Because life is far too short to do

what everyone else wants me to do.

There will only be so many sunsets.

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Celebration Dance

Red and gold mingle this evening,

Dancing with frivolous abandon.

The beautiful ladies in purple silk skirts

Stand by, but not without interest.

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Attentive, sweet mothers hovering overhead,

All garbed in white linen pleats,

Say, “Someone is crying by the wall—

“We must comfort the bleeding hearts.”

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And over and around all the flowers that dance

Are the new and tender green leaves—

Protecting, housing, guarding and shading,

They keep watch both by day and by night.

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Tulips and daffodils in the first and second lines; azaleas in the third and fourth; magnolia trees in the fifth and sixth; and, of course, bleeding hearts in the seventh and eighth.  That’s most of what has bloomed so far.  What beautiful flowers are you enjoying this spring?  And do tell: what or who did you think the characters of this poem were at first?

As a random side-note, The Weepies’ new album “Sirens” comes out in less than two weeks!!!!

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Spring Storm

Spring Storm

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The first dozen raindrops fall on my window—

The first dozen raindrops of the first spring storm.

The sky is a chaos of color and light;

Impending fury in the billowed-up clouds.

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Without warning, the rain breaks its cover.

It comes down in torrents—soldiers without rank.

The raging outside reaches a fever pitch

To match my seething heart and mind.

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