A Painted World

A striver, with purpose,

travels the unyielding

Vertical desert,

is unrewarded.

A listless mind

Grows numb,

Complacent to the

Droning fluorescents.

A zombie wasteland

Assigned to be

an eternal prison,

Noise free.

A still placard

Represents worth

A name tag

A right to birth.

An echoed silence

Of the worn path

Sings of determination

And reasons worn scales.

A flicking tongue

Smells the poison

Of false,

Stale, free air.

A room of walls,

The world’s,

Screams down

In endless plight.

A latex glare,

Full of illusions

that say,

Come…come…come away.

Had to write this poem for my poetry class. I observed a live snake in a cage at a museum on the campus where I attend college. ~T

Success is counted sweetest by Emily Dickinson

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,

As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.



Thought I would post a poem that wasn't mine. The great Emily Dickinson. She has such wonderful rhythm to her poetry. We are studying Emily Dickinson's poetry in my poetry class currently. That's also why I picked another poem of hers to share. =) ~T

Study

The books sing to me in longing.
The games whine, covered in dust.
The music from my lappy distracts.
The invisible web of communication calls.
The movies beg to be rediscovered.
The bed taunts with tempting dreams.
The television invites hours of drone.
The family prods with conversation.
The friends offer nights of fun.
Yet here I sit.
The textbook before me laughs.

My personal temptation to put aside my homework. ~T

The Assigned Poem

The twisted words
upon my page
cringed and cried
as my pen
scribbled them,
forced,
from my mind.


~A poem about how I feel when I have to write a poem for an assignment and not just writing words that naturally come to me and fit themselves willingly upon my page. ~T

Pigeons

He stood; stern,
aloof...gangster.
while the other,
in unfocused content,
paced the light top.
On guard.
Til, as if by magic....
Poof!
They were gone.

I was entertained during lunch yesterday by the sight of 2 pigeons on top of a light pole. ~T

The Melt

Each shattered page of white
yields to the bristle winds
and the searing sun.
Pliant and dying
missiles of ice
and drooping noses
make their departure.
A chorus of drips
the echo of shine
and I sit melting
on a frozen steel log.

A Pleasure Read

Sat, forgotten
you, alone
have become
a book stand.
Soda pop
and plates of green
crush your pages
left unseen.
The busy path
of higher education
has forced
you to the side.
Too busy,
so alone,
too busy
to give
you, Within
my mind,
a home.


Just wrote this tonight after realizing that I've left this one new book of mine just sitting on my side table next to my bed. I haven't had time to read it because I've been so busy with homework. Of course, it sat beneath a bottle of powerade and has sat beneath many other things as well as I've sat in bed working on homework instead of reading. ;p ~T

Dear Heart

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up those steep mountains

Into the stars

Across those great plains

We traveled afar

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Into the church

Up top the hill

We traveled there first

A cross stands there still

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up the walls

Into the depths

Across that bleak fall

We traveled past death

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up past the border

Into the mo

Across we forded

We traveled low

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up, up, up, away

Into this place

Across the way

We traveled to chase

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up to our home

Into the peace

Across the lines we roamed

We traveled in pieces

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up away, I send

Into oblivion, you go

Across the great bend

We do not travel together, no!

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

But no more.

I found this poem that I wrote last month that I forgot about. I tried to make it a bit like verse for a song. I'm not a song writer and I can't sing but still I like to try to do that occasionally. I don't think I succeeded. I don't like this poem a whole lot but it's ok. What do you think?

~T

The Panther: Poem and essay

The Panther by Rainer Maria Rilke

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

as he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

~Now my Essay about this poem. Please leave me a comment telling me what you think about the poem and if you agree or disagree with anything in my essay. Thanks! ~T

In Rainer Maria Rilke’s poem, The Panther, her imagery about a panther stalking his cage is very evident. Her imagery is clear and concise through the first two stanzas of the three stanza poem. In the third stanza, however, the tone of the poem changes slightly and is hard to understand.

In the first stanza of The Panther, Rilke’s description of a male passing bars and becoming weary and separated from the world is very easy to understand. I enjoyed how she turned the bars into thousands, creating the image of unending imprisonment. This really starts out the poem with the intense image of a caged animal that has given up on freedom.

In the second stanza of The Panther, Rilke builds an image of the panther stalking in circles. This stalking is compared to a ritual dance that is there to contain the panther’s will, “paralyzed”. This image is powerful in communicating how the panther is containing itself in the form of constant movement.

In the third stanza the tone of The Panther changes from the previous two. Rainer Maria Rilke states, “Only at times, the curtain of the pupils / Lifts, quietly--, An image enters in, / Rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles, / Plunges into the heart and is gone” (Gioia 89). I do not understand what this stanza implies, other than that the panther somehow receives some burst of freedom in his mind and it gives his heart some joy for a moment. She talks about pupils but hasn’t spoken of the panther’s eyes before, which I’m assuming she is referring to now. If I could talk to Rainer Maria Rilke, I would ask her, why did you suddenly focus on the panther’s eyes? What image was this that leapt into the panther’s heart? It is quite frustrating to understand the beginning of the poem but not the end. Usually the end is what has the most important message.

Update: Not a poem

Okay, So I have been writing poetry in all this time that has passes since my last post. I'm just not happy with it so I'm probably not going to post any of it. I am however taking a poetry class this semester. In this class I am reading poetry from our text book and our teacher assigns us to write essays about them and what we think they mean. I will post the poems I choose and the essays I write about them. =) I have three to post already. So I'll get on that this weekend probably. I will also try and post any new original poems I write. Anyways, that is all.
Thanks!
<3 T