Two of My Favorite Poems of Mine

Ugh, I have to work at the library in a little over two hours, and I still have a chem chapter to read and do work for, then a trial write-up for US History. And I feel icky. I'm not even out of my pajamas.
Thought I'd post on here. BTW, I think my post yesterday was excellent. Don't read it if you think you personally know me, though. DON'T.
Yeah... So it's January 8th, 2012. And here are two lovely little poems.
The first one, Enigmas, was written in October or something. I posted it on Write It and a few people told me it was really good, so...

Enigmas

Someone help me make sense of it all

Why school is my home

But Italy is my home

And home is not home at all

Someone explain to me why I feel what I do

Why despite all my sense

I still think I love you

I’m sorry, but I felt 

Like I was falling apart at the seams

And now every time I walk in there

It’s like someone’s watching, watching,

Watching me

How come I write and I write and I write and I write

And I read something ten thousand times more powerful

A million times more profound

How come I study and I study and I learn and I learn

And all of my hard work amounts to no one giving a damn

How come I don’t care if anyone thinks I’m pretty

Or worth it

Or anything at all

And I care so deeply about what you, of all people, think.

Why does it feel like our souls are patterned the same way?

When I know perfectly well there’s no such thing as soul-mates.

Why do I dream of a future with you and only you?

When I know perfectly well I want to write and live alone and be

Independent.

Why is it I even bother to hope anymore

When I know my teachers think I’m just another overachiever

And the other writers think I’m a snob or an amateur

(depending on their own level of skill)

And my friends don’t want to be my friends

They’re just too charitable for their own good

And my family is sick and tired of my 

Stupid art-history rants 

And my 

Utterly perfect good grades

And you-

You couldn’t care less!

I’m not the girl you want; you want Cho Chang

Or Juliet Capulet or Bella Swan

Don’t you?

You want some pretty girl who’ll fall at your feet and put up with it all

And who’s smart but not even close to how smart you are

I’m just the obnoxious girl in your English class

And that’s all I’ll ever be

No, not a great writer

No, not a great scholar

No, not a great art historian

No, nothing.

Just an annoying English-loving

Art history fact-spewing

Harry Potter dork writer who’ll amount to nothing.

But I swear I love you

Even though I don’t even believe in love!

Even though I don’t even know what that means!

I thought it was love, but maybe I’m wrong-

It’s something more than that.

My world is words, but I wonder if ‘love’

Really fits here.

The thesaurus doesn’t help (were you paying attention to that class?

Probably not.)

It’s indescribable.

I’m ranting for no reason.

You are warmth, light, music

And I keep trying to block you out because I can only catch a single note...

Of what must be the world’s greatest symphony.

And if I can’t hear it all, what’s the point of standing at the

Oh-so-exclusive door?

I’m working towards some sort of purpose in my life

There’s a light at the end of this hellish high-school tunnel

And I’m wondering,

Can I break down the doors as I bolt out at graduation

Drive to the airport

Fly to Italy

And never, ever, ever come back?

Or would missing you be too unbearable?

The next one, 'Hope', is something I wrote during a poetry spree a few months ago late at night. This was probably the best outcome of that. The rest of the poems I wrote then aren't too fantastic.

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers

That got shot in its first attempt to fly

Shot down from the blue sky

Blood and dusty bits of feathers littering

The blackened ground.

Hope perches in the soul

Until the soul freezes over

From lack of caring for it

And hope shivers and shudders

And shrivels away.

Hope sings a tune without words

That sounds so hopeful, youthful, beautiful

But is laughed at as though it is

A scratchy, immature attempt to sound

As beautiful as it truly is.

Hope never stops at all

Except for when it is so beaten and bloodied and bruised

That it cannot walk, cannot perch, cannot fly

Cannot sing its song

That’s when hope dies.

Violent, eh? Like I say, artistically violent. :)

So I'm listening to that song by The Cure again. For more, read yesterday's post, like I said. Damn... I am such a good writer. Ha ha. 

Well if I am, maybe I ought to EDIT. Or at the very least write NOTES for CHEMISTRY or a TRIAL WRITE-UP for US HISTORY instead of my poetry blog.

Gosh... I'm like twenty minutes away from the three-year mark of just-read-yesterday's-post-if-you-want-to-know, and I'm in my pajamas. Grrrrr.

Let me go change, and then I'll probably listen to French music while doing my homework.

Hope you enjoyed the poems.

-magic*esi

Enigmas

A poem about confusion and anger with the world.

“You are warmth, light, music

And I keep trying to block you out because I can only catch a single note...

Of what must be the world’s greatest symphony.

And if I can’t hear it all, what’s the point of standing at the

Oh-so-exclusive door?”

October 2011

Hope

A cynical twist on Emily Dickinson’s poem of the same name.

“Hope never stops at all

Except for when it is so beaten and bloodied and bruised

That it cannot walk, cannot perch, cannot fly

Cannot sing its song

That’s when hope dies.”

November 2011