Short Little Poem

A Mid-Autumn Afternoon’s Dream

She doesn’t think outside the box

She merely peers out of

It’s windows

Not exactly walking on the

Cement pathway, but

Cutting corners here and there

Not often, just enough to feel

The grass through her toes

And to be seen on the

Other side of life

The side that breathes in

Liquid light and

Breathes out solid life

The side that perpetually lives

In that one inevitable

Flawless autumn morning

The leaves on fire, but still

Loosely hanging from their branch

A lithe wind cascading

Through girls’ hair

Tangible magic laced

Into the atmosphere

Like the ribbons of a ballet shoe

Crawling up a dancer’s legs

 

So I’ve been working on this poem for months, and I had a lot more to it. Nevertheless, after obsessing about finishing it, I realized it was already done. I don’t offer many explanations for my poems, but because this one is so short I’ll offer up a little about what was going on in my mind as I wrote it. For this poem I had two ideas that melted together. I had a line in my head “She breathes in light and breathes out life” which I added more detail to in this piece. I think I might still use the line in another, simpler poem. I also had this picture of a girl walking on a sidewalk but cutting the corners of the sidewalk at each turn so she could walk in the grass and feel connected to the earth. I had the idea to go further into this poem and talk about layering filters over life like an instagram photo until it looks perfect. However, I had created such a beautiful fall morning that it felt more like a saccharine dream rather than a false world that I could deconstruct. So that’s all this poem is, a dream. That’s where I came up with the title which is obviously a play off Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Yes, this is my second post of today. I have decided that without a person in my life that I need to be texting 24/7 I have more time to finish things. I am going through and clearing up my saved drafts on here. There may be more posts tonight or soon. See you later lovelies!

-AcuteAnimosity

 

You

You make me

Close my eyes

Tilt back my head

And let the laughter

Spill out of my mouth

You make my

Arms ache and

Tense with the need

To reach for you

To become one half

Of a whole

You make me

Listen to old songs

And feel the words

Like I’m hearing them

For the first time

You make me

Choreograph intricate

Ballroom dances

In the kitchen

My socks gliding

Against the hardwood

You make my

Fingertips tremor

Just centimeters from

Your lips

Pink and soft and

Kissing me and

You make me

Love the lazy

Ceiling fan ticking away

Above my head

Love the sun

When it pierces my eyes

As I try to look up

Into yours

Love the breaths

In between words

Love the silence

Love the sneaking

In hallways

In living rooms

In secret

Sneaking gentle

Touches, you against me

Us together

Painting each others’

Skin with red

You make me

Love the life

I resented

You make me

Grateful that each

Hardship lead to you

You make me

Happy with the simplicity

Of smiles, of closing my eyes

Tilting my head back

And letting the laughter

Spill out of my mouth

Most of all

You make me yours

 

-AcuteAnimosity

 

Haiku, Why Not?

It seems that the sun

Sees our love before we do

It shines on our bliss

 

Not sure why I wrote a haiku. I think some of the best poetry comes from when a writer limits things. Rules help writers push and push for the best of the best. When there is a block in the path of a writer, they will create something incredible to get around it. Some poets refuse to use certain words like love, heart, and soul. Some writers count syllables (like those who write haikus). Some writers make sure they have to rhyme. This doesn’t mean that something great can’t come out of a poem that has no rules. Actually, if you look at most my poetry, it looks like I give myself no rules. That would be wrong because I have a long list of unwritten rules, but none of my rules are obvious. Slam poetry and free verse seem to have no rules at all. Maybe they don’t. I think that the rules of slam poetry are unwritten though. They mostly deal with one’s performance and delivery of a poem though. Free verse is the most free (pun intended) I think. That might be why it gets such a bad reputation.

I’m not really sure where I’m going with this. I was going to talk about the haiku I wrote, but like, ugh. I like this guy. Things ended so badly with Lewis that I don’t even want to talk about this guy because he likes me too, and it feels so fragile. It seems too perfect, and that usually leads to disaster. Therefore, I want to hold on to this innocent, ignorant feeling a little longer. I’m not even going to give him a name on here because I’m not going to talk about him. Enjoy my crappy haiku 🙂

-AcuteAnimosity

Swim the Ocean

Swimming across the Atlantic

Propelling forward with

Right breaststroke

Left breaststroke

Knocked back by waves

Fortified by steel

I pop my head out

Of the tide to breathe

In the opaque air

I can’t see through

It to the other side

I’m too content to

Swim the ocean

Wearing lead sunglasses

To block out the

Rays  begging me to

Float awhile rather

Than forging ahead

But I swear the

Shore is just a mile

More, right, left

Forward then back

I gain little ground

But that’s better than

Nothing which is

Where I came from

So I swim

Despite the heat

On my back and in

My heart, I swim

Knowing full well

All I leave behind

Is empty, void

The future holds

Small whispers

Wonders for my

Next familiar to

Behold in the sparkle

Of her eye

Glittering sand

Sifting in the breeze

-AcuteAnimosity