Final Drafts

For those interested, here are the final drafts of the poems I'm turning in today.  Thanks so much to the many people who read it and provided input.  I heard several people attempted to comment and for some reason the comments never showed.  I can't figure out why that is, thank you for your thoughts, regardless of if they showed up or not.  Also, for those who are able to comment, my teacher suggested I change the last stanza of Pain, let me know what you think (even though I can't change it for the final), I can't decide if I like this ending better or the original.

The MRI 

Clear black plastic film

taped to kitchen windows.

Sun light filters through swirling grey matter

and darker, rigid lines of sturdy skull,

illuminating bisections of you.

The sun comes through each picture,

barely brightening the room and

casting shadows, bent and distorted

around the legs of the table and chairs.

In the twisted images

I think I see an elephant.

You find a cow

and name it Betsy.

Our abs ache and we lean

on one another to stay standing.

“Pass me the tape.”

I grab another black and grey image,

to cover the last corner

and we continue to ignore the

bright bleached blotches,

cancerous lumps,

which stare ominously

from the black plastic.

Pain

Winter hits,

again and

again.

After each

sun burst,

which sweeps

the sky

a bright blue

and persuades

me to believe

in summer,

I awake

the next day

to grey.

My heart sinks

with my feet

into black water,

gathered in

small rivers along

slippery streets,

a frigid pulp,

agitated by

passing cars.

The first

November week,

how the

cold air slaps

my cheeks

and bits

my toes

and gnaws

into my ears,

grinding like

childhood ear

infections.

And each

December gust

threatens to

shatter me

like the icicle

that has lost

its battle with

gravity and,

at the

end of its

long fall,

finds only

hardened earth.

I don’t shatter,

I only crack

along my lips

and the once

soft skin

around my

fingernails

till I bleed.

I step again

into January wind;

my fingers

now numb,

my feet

forever frozen

and I slip

on the ice

and fall,

face first,

into the snow…

and feel

nothing.

The cold crawls

into my bones,

leaving me numb

and sense-less

until summer

returns and

offers joy,

but the sun

must first melt

away the ice

that replaced

my soul,

until it

leaks, slowly,

from my

eyes.

1 for 14- #7 Go Snowboarding!

This Thursday, I completed the first of 14 things I plan on doing this year! I should probably work a little harder on getting these done. I doubt I'll finish all of them if I average one every other month.  Regardless- I have done the first and thought you might want to hear about it. It was quite a grand adventure.

Wednesday evening, my roommate and I were walking onto campus when a friend stopped us to let us in on a secret.  There was someone on campus from a nearby ski resort, if you went up to him and told him that you liked skiing, he would give you an all-day lift pass valid for the next day.  My roommate and I looked at each other, I only had one class, she didn't have any.  We had no clue how much it would cost to rent skis and boots, but we figure it would be cheaper with a free lift pass than without.  We hurried off to acquire passes, then rushed to a computer to check rental prices.

We learned renting both skis and boots would only cost $27.  Then we discovered that renting both a snowboard and boots would only cost $35!  At this point, the scheming turned into planning.  We were going snowboarding the next day.  We figured it would be even cheaper if we could borrow a snowboard or boots from someone we knew, so we posted our plans on facebook and continued scheming with great enthusiasm.

To give you an idea of how enthusiastic we were, it took us 3 hours to remember that neither of us have snowpants or gloves.  In fact, neither of us had ever been snowboarding and were completely unaware of anything else we might have needed to do so.  Our solution- post again on facebook that we needed pants and gloves and asking for suggestions of what we might bring.  You know you have a great group of friends when it only takes another half hour to acquire all we needed (except the boards and boots, but it wasn't too much to rent).

We woke up bright and early the next day, eager for our newest adventure.  We got to the ski resort, picked up our snow boards, strapped them to our feet, and then fell down.  We spent the next hour or so learning to stay balanced long enough to stay standing.  And then in another impulsive move, went to the top of the mountain to work our way down.  A large portion of the trip down was spent on our rear ends, yet somehow, at the very end, I managed to stay standing for the last 30 feet or so of the mountain.

We didn't give up though, at least not immediately. After another go down the hill (it should be noted, each of these attempts took nearly an hour), we realized we were thoroughly bruised and would probably injure ourselves in another attempt.  We came home, told everyone about our adventures, spent the next two days too sore to stand up, and then began planning how we are going to go again! Mom, Dad! I might need a snowboard for Christmas!

Poetry, Part 2

So, we have to turn in two poems for our final poetry assignment.  I thought I would share this poem with you as well.  This particular poem means a lot to me, as it has a lot of influence from life right now, especially in regards to my roommate, one of my best friends.  Though the poem has embellished and over-emphasized things.  If you have a moment, I would also appreciate your comments on this, especially if you feel you don't understand what is going on.  The assignment was to capture a scene in a poem, so if you can't see it, I've not done a very good job.

The MRI

Clear black plastic taped to kitchen windows.

Sun light filters through swirling grey matter

and darker, rigid lines of sturdy skull,

illuminating bisections of you.

The sun comes through each picture, casting

shadows, bent and distorted

around the legs of the table and chairs.

In the twisted images

I think I see an elephant.

You find a cow

and name it Betsy.

Our abs ache and we lean

on one another to stay standing.

The laughter lightens the mood a little,

like the sun that barely brightens the room.

“Pass me the tape.”

I grab more black plastic,

cover the last corner

and we continue to ignore the

bright bleached blotches,

cancerous lumps,

which stare ominously

from the black plastic.

Attempts at Poetry

We've recently finished the poetry unit of my creative writing class, which in college terms means the final drafts of my poems will soon be due.  After teacher-feedback, revision, roommate-review, revision, peer-workshop, and a little more revision, I now turn to you.  Beloved friends, family-members, and other readers: I need your help.  I would really appreciate comments on this poem.  Tell me what you thought about it, how it made you feel, what parts you felt were confusing, what sort of questions the poem left you with, anything!  

ps- for those who like to worry about me, no- I am not depressed, life is not horrible, it's just a poem!

Pain

Winter hits,

again and

again.

After each time

the sun bursts

and sweeps

the sky blue

and persuades me

to believe

 in summer,

I awake

the next

day to

grey.

My heart sinks

with my feet

into black water,

gathered in small

rivers along

slippery streets,

frigid pulp

swimming with

dregs left

by passing

cars.

That first

November week,

cold air slapped

my cheeks

and bit

my toes

and gnawed

into my ears,

grinding like

childhood ear

infections.

And each

December gust

threatened to

shatter me

like the icicle

that has lost

its battle

with gravity

and, at the

end of its

long fall finds

only hardened

earth.

But I don’t

shatter, instead

I crack along

my lips and

the once

soft skin around

my fingernails

till I

bleed.

And now

January passes so

I step again

into the wind;

my fingers

now numb,

my feet

forever frozen

and I slip

on the ice

and fall

face first

into the snow

and feel

nothing.

But which

do I prefer?

To let the

cold crawl

into my bones

until I am

numb. Or

for the sun

to return

and melt

away the ice

which has

replaced my

soul until it

leaks, slowly

from my

eyes.

For Those I Love...

Father,
I thank thee for those I love.  I am grateful for the raucous that we make with each grand idea we discover.  And how I appreciate cell phones, internet, and all that was once considered impossible so that I might hear the echos of distant adventures.  Father, I am grateful for those I share clothes with, who help me style my hair, and tell me I look beautiful as I prepare for a date.  And the way we leap in excitement upon seeing each other at the end of the day.  I thank thee that through them I might feel your love for me.

Father, I thank thee for the midnight discussions, curled on the couch and unable to sleep for the tragedies that have befallen.  I thank thee for the opportunities thou hast given me to dry damp cheeks and sit with another till watery eyes become clear again.  I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the trust thou hast in me, that I might be one who helps another.  And for the chance I have to pray for them, to suffer with them, to cry on their behalf. More than anything, I am grateful that I might be the one by which others feel thy love for them.

Incredible

We sit next to each other, on the couch, on the bench outside the apartment, on the table, on the bathroom floor, on the bunk beds.  As we sit, we talk about everything that doesn't matter and for a brief moment ignore anything that hurts.  We laugh about failed attempts at circus tricks, the proper use of the word didactic, or how much we hate physics exams.  You sit and laugh with me.

When we finish laughing, we exchange the profound advice found only in those under the age of 25.  We think we are so wise.  We listen to each other as though we were sages, seeking a panacea in the words that float between us.

As the conversation dies, you begin to cling to the incoherent words I spill in a final attempt to be deep and meaningful.  You comment casually on how great I look today, and brush off my response.  You thank me for the time I have graciously given to bestow my wisdom upon you.  You laugh in disbelief at my expression of gratitude.  We part with a quick hug and you whisper "You're incredible."



Please do me this one favor, believe me when I whisper back.

Acrobats and the Antics of Crazy College Girls

I've said this before, but I really must say again how much I love my roommates.  I feel so blessed with the incredible women I have the chance to live with and learn from each day.  I know that at any point, I can call girls night and we will all curl up on the couches and probably watch Court Jester again.  (We're going to have that movie memorized by the end of the semester).  Point being, I'm so grateful for where I am and who I am with.

That being said, we really probably should be separated for our own safety.  Or at least, we shouldn't be allowed to go to the circus together.  The Cirque Viva Golden Dragon Acrobats came to our school and performed this weekend.  4 of the 6 roommates (myself included) had tickets to see the show.  The night begins with a casual comment that those who wear glasses should make sure to bring them since we were sitting in the balcony.  This turned into a new scheme of purchasing tickets to an opera, as well as finding old fashioned opera glass, long gloves, and fancy gowns in order to attend the opera dressed up as though we were British royalty.  Giddy on our latest plot, we skipped off to the show, someone still forgetting to put in her contacts regardless of the reminder.

We were in for the treat of a life time.  We saw incredible contortionists, juggling acts, jumping rope while on a unicycle, jumping through hoops higher than the acrobats heads, huge hoops that people could stand in and roll around the stage on, the ultimate clown car- which was actually a single person bike which 9 full grown people managed to crowd themselves on, and much more.  We were enthralled.  Now, this may seem innocent enough, but you have to realize how excited my roommates and I get about things.  Before the first act was over, one of us leaned into the others and said softly, "I bet we could figure out how to do that."

The fuse was lit. Our eyes were glued to the stage, still in a state of absolute awe, but with a new found interest to determine exactly how to do each trick.  Intermission was the fastest 15 minutes of my life as we enthusiastically shared our favorite parts and discussed what we would need to do in order to accomplish the same feats.  We giggled mischievously as the lights dimmed again for the second act, showing us new skills that we soon would make our own.  Like I said, we should not be allowed to go to the circus together.

However, we are at least somewhat sensible, after watching one acrobat create a stack of chairs a good 25 feet high and proceeding to do handstands on the top of it all, someone had the sense to whisper, "We're not trying that one."