Tuesday, November 24, 2009

I'm working on a new blog post but in the meantime....

Yes. I am working on a new post, but it's a subject that has been grating on me for a little while and something recently pushed me over the edge concerning it. So. Last night I sat down and was working on said blog post, when I realized... I'm just too angry about the topic to form coherent points at the time. So, I stared at my computer screen thinking about how I used to write poetry as a child. I've been picking up a little poetry here and there in recent days, and I realized how HORRIBLE my poetry once had been. Yet in my adolescence, I was under the impression it was fantastically deep.

I pondered it for a few minutes. Wondering if I could still write poems, and if my problem to begin with was that I was trying to write something weighty. Why not just have some fun with it? So. I started a fresh work document file, and put fingers to keys. It's lacking atmosphere and I plan to add images to this, but for now, the rough draft, I don't think it's looking too bad. Let me know my writer friends, thumbs up or thumbs down?


Upon the first night, the moon was full, beautiful plump and round.
They saw one another by the light of it, but had yet to know what they found.

He was cold and brittle and dark, She warm and aging so fair.
Autumn the product between them, No nights of perfection compare.

They melded together so sweetly, and the steam of it rose to the skies.
It shrouded his view of the heavens, but smiled at the stars in her eyes.

By the new moon he wished her a present, something to lighten her frown.
He blew ‘cross the land, an icy cold breath, and gave her a red and gold gown.

His gift had caused her elation, she wore it with grace and a grin.
Then she returned his generous deed, dotting the land with pumpkin.

They went on like this for a while, caring not about means or the ends.
One wouldn’t have guessed, such opposite things, could make such wonderful friends.

Time slips and the moon keeps on waxing, turning everything blue as it gleams.
She said the best thing about the blue moon, is it brings such wonderful dreams.

She shall be reborn in the spring time, and then he will hibernate ‘til the fall.
Always dreaming and thinking, of pumpkins and gowns, and those most perfect nights of all.

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