Every once and awhile I have something I need to say, something that needs to be expressed the moment after it's felt. Even though it's much past when I'm comfortable being awake, now is one of the moments.
One of the worst things about these moments, though, is that it often involves not wanting everyone to know, but being unable to say it to anyone in particular. There are emotions that would be uncomfortable and even inappropriate to be shared with some people but would perhaps be suited quite well for other people. So I'm stuck in an odd situation of having something that needs to be said, but being unable to say it to anyone in particular (with the exception, maybe of my parents) and at the same time not feeling that it's appropriate to be shared with all.
When this happens, I always turn to my old standby; poetry. It's the best tool I have for saying something without actually stating it and also expressing myself in a way that is satisfactory for me that wouldn't give much away about myself that others don't already know. I think. Anyway, what follows is me poetically turning my thoughts inside out. It's coming out raw, so don't expect anything spectacular.
Blended worlds
A blender must be an exciting place to be
Swirls of color and sensation all
Mixing life together in a dazzling array
Of swoops and swirls.
Perhaps people even are like that blend
Of fruits and vegetables, ice creams and
Sweeteners, orange juice and raspberries
All swirling together.
The noise of such excitement
Can grind at times; while beginning
Or slowing down, but the middle of the incessant
Noise is bearable, even pleasant.
Each moment more life swirls by
To add to the color and flavor of the blend.
An excitement unparalleled inside
That machine Goes on and on, until it's done.
Speeding up or slowing down,
The blender is merciless in its march
I just wish someone could enjoy
The moments the blender stops.
Perhaps I wasn't as good at hiding the meaning behind this one. Perhaps I was. Only time (or you, the reader) will tell, and meanwhile, I feel better about the evening. I have a lot to think over. Goodnight, world.
3 comments:
The last comment I made was too long. I'm sorry. I just got carried away with my thoughts and life.
Some of my poetry has been blended. Literally. I cut up little pieces of paper and write fun words or random words or just words in general on them and then place them in a container and shake them around. Then I pick out random words and arrange them onto paper and 'Voila' there is a poem. I have to add in some spices and sugar to fill in and get it to make sense, but the end product is something I would never have been able to just write down out of my head. I have found that poetry can make appropriate something that wouldn't have been if you had just come out and said it. Also, poetry, for me, can encase a feeling I had about that poem in a jar and everytime I open the jar, out comes the feeling or the smell or touch or whatever was happening at the time of the writing. Sometimes, while working on my computer, I have found that random ideas tend to creep into a cozy corner of my desktop next to homework assignments, neat recipes I have found, and the occasional quote by Jack Handey. There they crouch, waiting patiently for my wandering mind to open them up and complete their existence, bring them to life, fulfil their destiny, etc depending on what they had in mind.
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