Poetry

Souls

Author's note: The idea for this poem began during a particularly bad mood of mine. I was feeling downtrodden and doubtful about life. So, I just jumped right into reading the book of Ecclesiastes because I had recalled a verse I had read the prior night on a funeral program. When I started reading the rest of the book, I connected with much of the writer's feelings. He was pondering the importance of toil and folly on Earth. A day or two prior, I had found a new poet that I really enjoyed. Tagore wrote about many spiritual things and some of them, I felt, really related to what I was feeling and part of what was written in Ecclesiastes. In this poem, I'm attempting to mimic Tagore's free flowing style and exhibit spiritual ideas. After those few days, I found myself deeper in my faith and had a few new ideas.

Brink of Eternity by Tagore

In desperate hope I go and search for her
in all the corners of my room;
I find her not.

My house is small
and what once has gone from it can never be regained.

But infinite is thy mansion, my lord,
and seeking her I have to come to thy door.

I stand under the golden canopy of thine evening sky
and I lift my eager eyes to thy face.

I have come to the brink of eternity from which nothing can vanish
---no hope, no happiness, no vision of a face seen through tears.

Oh, dip my emptied life into that ocean,
plunge it into the deepest fullness.
Let me for once feel that lost sweet touch
in the allness of the universe.  

Souls

I traverse through day and night,

Same as old.

Laboring, consuming, resting.

Just as every generation before me

And every one to come.

In this cycle I experience very little of the ultimate Maya;

Caught up in my minimized life,

Presumed so utterly important.

In daily toils comes consuming dismay,

Comes doubt of the ultimate overseer,

Comes yearning desire for signs.

But spiked moments of utmost joy bring me closer to the eternity set in my heart.

Never fully to understand, but to be and take part.

The precious gift that is not understood but felt

Not so important is the heart, but the soul.

The palpable heart feels its earthly happiness and sorrow.

But my soul is only a spirit

Not touched by mankind

Only valiance and guider

The link to my Creator

It feels the hollow,

Is susceptible to flying emotion no words can reach,

Makes me flee Earth,

But only so a moment.

In my days

I shall only feel brief golden moments

To be infinite.

Until I am reeled back in

To ride the waves of life's deception.

And it is only my soul

Which travels home in the end,

When my body returns to dust.

Vase

Author's note: I wrote this poem a week before mid-term exams. I realized how much time I was spending memorizing and studying weary subjects and was not having much actual brain activity. I felt bad for ignoring Language Arts simply because I felt as though it doesn’t matter as much. In reality, though, it is one of the only classes that stretches the mind to real-life things and thinking beyond the box. I wanted to find a way to get this feeling out, but I didn't just want to write a ranting paragraph. I tried to think up a way to hide the message in symbolism and thought of a short story or a poem. I figured a poem might be best for now.

 

A sitting vase

On its pedestal under a gleaming spotlight

It is brand new

Not a single mark to be found on its surface

Everyday polish

The owners wish to keep it brand new and the same

Excessive rub

cloth  on the surface, aching to earn perfection

Alas, all the while

The gem losing its shine, no longer sparkling

Clean house, nice house

With not a sign of its living inhabitants

No worn-in bliss

A picture of a happy family, missing

Toys stacked away

Perfect order of the files laid out on a desk

This vase is fine

Dull, clean, and spotless story of a life in harbor

Not so the old

The vase not gleaming as it once did so brightly

Not admired

For its scratches telling stories. They are missing.

 
Sunrise and Sunset

Author's note: This is a poem I started thinking about in my mind when i was watching the sun rise. It always occurs when I'm riding the bus to school, so I see it everyday. It's just a free verse in which I tried to revamp my vocabulary with just a few words. It was simply written on a whim.

A child once asked me

Which do you prefer

Sunrise

Or sunset?

Of the two times of day

When sun scumbles horizon,

I prefer the newborn.

Rising in the eastern sky,

The darkness turns to day

And hope for a future.

But sinking to the western depths,

The darkness looms ahead.

Peril in a girl's mind.

A sunrise brings unstoppable rays

Fazed by no evil.

Light cannot be hidden.

A sunset, though, brings darkness

That no power of good can end

Until the morning comes

Rising is the cleanse,

The life,

The chance,

The future.

Sinking is the end,

The end,

The end,

The end.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

  

Author's note: This is a response to the poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost. I tried to display my thoughts, analyzing the general meaning of the whole poem. This short response was originally a paragraph, but it was suggested, that due to the artistic nature of the piece, that I play with formatting it into smaller paragraphs. I hope this disproves the convention that responses need to be lengthy in order to be quality. Sometimes, it's better not to overdo things. Please leave me some comments.

   We start our lives with everything we need, born golden and perfect.  It is from there that our glow starts to quickly fade because in this world life is too soiled not to drag it's people down with it. Gold is "her hardest hue to hold".

 How can one stay pure when everything around them is dark?

 Because when "leaf subsides to leaf", we keep wronging and failing each other and ourselves. Nature gives grace to its children, but because we give it nothing in return, nothing to hold it, the grace does not keep, and "Eden sinks to grief". 

After the golden state is over, we turn to what will come to be our normal state: blunt dismay. This is just as "dawn goes down to day", where the moments of bliss, perfection, and beauty are only a short while until our life becomes an oblivion of dullness.

The Man is Coming

Author's note: This poem was inspired by thinking about Edgar Allen Poe's Annabel Lee. His poem was about losing his girl, written in a very beautiful way. Mine is less pleasant, but I'm still going poetic. I'm also trying a lot of other techniques, such as writing from a man's perspective, obviously. I focused to make this an ironic piece, so I tried to put in a lot of ironic symbolism that I knew and added a few of my own. As for the form, I like when poems rhyme in a way, but don't sound  cheesy, so I tried to make a different pattern for myself.

Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea. 

The Man is Coming

 My beautiful lass of a score and a year

Hath poison in her blood

She drank the vile and all the while

Is losing the light so dear

Lilies reflecting from her eyes

As she lays low on the cot

The petals, alas are falling so fast

She can't stay, though hard she may try

Shadows in corners creep up and draw close

The window covered with fog

The bleak skies are gray, one more night she may stay 

'Til the time that is dreaded most

 Up to the attic with stumbling feet

Hands tremble with fear of the Man

Left my girl on the cot, her fever is hot

Until it breaks and that Man she will meet.

True Joy

Author's note: I wrote this poem on the way home from a cross country meet. I'm always in a particularly good mood afterwards, and this time was no exception. It has been a great season for so many reasons and this poem just reflects all of them. It is obviously a free verse, I was just typing whatever flowed from my thoughts. I was going for a hopeful and joyous feel of the poem.

It's done

It's over

You did it.

Nothings all so bad as you think

Realization that God gave you everything and more

Is the best moment.

Makes all the uphills worth it.

Accomplished the feat no one thought you could

The one you didn’t think you could do

Doubt is the strongest oppression

But in the end

It humbles

Time to be more

Live valiantly

Act as yourself

Feel alive

History repeats itself until you pursue change.

And when you finally reach the finish

Praise God for all he is who you are and were and will be.

Perseverance of the pain

Acceptance of failure

Determination to succeed

The pain, we feel it

The defeat,  we taste it.

The doubts, we hear them everyday

But we see the finish there

At the end of all

And know

There's no reason to think we won't  succeed

This is what champions are made of.

 Champions do not come of victory alone.

They are built

Together.

God's blessing upon us, even if unknowingly

Creating our own legacy

Each

To grow

Into something that even can't be seen from here

But we know there's an end

And work to finish well

In hardships,

We cry out to the Lord,

Not knowing he has already heard.

There's something great in all of us,

To be revealed in time.

Something wonderful

Something glorious

Something good.