Track Meet

 Author's Note: Super old piece! It's not that great of a piece, but I still wanted to post it.

She yawned and rested her head against the back of the bus seat. It had been a long day, and the track meet had been cold and windy. Melody was comfortable now, though, cross-legged and barefoot.

Gazing out the window, she watched as the bus's flashing light strobe-lighted the dark night, giving glimpses of forests and fields.  It was peaceful as she sat there, listening to the soft murmur of voices as she ate her pretzel chips. 

I'm Done With You

How do you describe our love?

tattered
windblown
enduring
repaired
hanging on by a thread

How do you describe our love?

a waste of time?
worthless?
meaningless?!

If our time together was so worthless, then why are you wasting your breath talking about it?!  Go back in the well that you crawled out of. Stay in the darkness, I don't ever want the same sun touching both our faces with light ever again. I'm done with you.

Summer

Everyone is looking forward to summer, the heat, the tan, the freedom. Summer's great, don't get me wrong, but transitioning from spring to summer, not so great. All I'm getting right now is a sun burn,allergies, frizzy hair from the humidity, and a stressful reminder of how soon all of my projects need to be done. Come quick summer and put a stop to this weather that feels like a not-quite-dry blanket, fresh out of the dryer. This weather is suffocating me!

The Wishes and Kisses of Mister and Misses

The first wish of Mr. was to meet Mrs.

The first kiss of Mrs.was with Mr.

The first wish of Mrs, was to be married to Mr.

The second kiss of Mr. was after a proposal

The second wish of Mr. was to have a son

The third kiss of Mrs. was after a trip to the doctor

The second wish of Mrs. was for eight months to pass quickly

The fourth kiss of Mr. was after six hours of hand-squeezing

The third wish of Mr. was for him to be the best father for his son

The fifth kiss of Mrs.was late at night, after cleaning up her sons graduation party

The fourth wish of Mrs. was for her son to come home often during college

The sixth kiss of Mr. was after their son never did, for four years

The fourth wish of Mr. was for his son to leave again after he came home and upset his mother

The seventh kiss of Mrs. was on the forehead and through tears when their son jumped off a building

The fifth wish of Mrs. was for her and Mr. to join their son in Heaven

The eighth kiss of Mr. was with Mrs. as they lay old in their bed, ready to welcome death

The fifth wish of Mr. was to not lose Mrs. in the extensive land of the afterlife

The ninth kiss of Mrs. was when she stood next to Mr., observing the vastness of Heaven

The sixth wish of Mrs. was to reconnect with her son

The tenth kiss of Mr. and Mrs. was on their sons forehead,  during a tight embrace

The sixth wish of Mr. was for the past to be forgotten

The eleventh kiss of Mrs. was when everyone lost count and let go of bothersome memories

The last wish of Mr. and Mrs. was for everyone to have a just as happy, if not happier, ending as theirs.

My cup was half-filled with happy, half-filled with sad. You added your own unhappiness to my cup and it spilled over the brim. The water trailed down the glass and pooled onto the table.

My tears slipped past my eyelids and trailed down my cheeks, onto your shoulder. You have chosen to add your pain to my sadness. So I sit here with you, my friend, and we wallow together.

My heart is bleeding. I am trying to rip your piece out of my heart, but I don't have the strength to. I don't entirely want to let you go.Every time I think of you, a dull ache arises from my chest. A constant reminder of what could have been. So I ask you. It is worth the pain?

Josephine Jacobsen

When you think of a poet, who do you think of? The answer tends to be Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Frost, E. E. Cummings, or Maya Angelou. Many people will jabber on and on about how they love their works, but being a true lover of poetry means you don't just only read the classics, but you also look for other poetry that should be considered a classic, but was unfortunate enough to get left behind. It seems that there was not room for Josephine Jacobsen and her works in the spotlight, so they got pushed into the shadows.

Jacobsen's works tend to have a Spanish inspiration behind them, and simple, but perfect, lines within. Rainy Night at the Writers' Colony is my favorite piece of hers simply because of one line. The reason why this one line gets to me and echoes in my head for days after I read the poem is not known to me. But I do know that every once in a while, we hear a question that makes us think so hard that it leaves us speechless. This is one of those lines: "What do we say worth the while of the ears of the dead?" Many of you may be quick to answer, most of you will not care. Yet I dwell on the question.

Though my favorite Jacobsen piece will always be Rainy Night at the Writers' Colony, I think It Is the Season should also be considered a classic. Jacobsen speaks of the changing of the seasons, and us with it. She talks about how we know the change will come, and we rehearse our goodbyes, and yet we are shocked to have to welcome the new.

Surely the other poets could scoot over a little to make room for one more. Josephine Jacobsen deserves that bright light just as much as the other poets do. Her pieces are no less great, no less inspiring or intriguing.  Though people are stubborn and don't take well to ideas that are not their own. Perhaps I will have to be satisfied with just knowing that I put her center stage. Even a good play will not have a big audience if there was bad advertisement.