Return of the twisted poems!

I'm back from Atlanta. But I won't talk about the trip now, since I don't have much time and I want to talk about Azine. The school literary magazine was released today, and I just got back from a reading. My "Forever a Nightmare" poem was among the works published, as were the pieces written by the other winners of the creative writing contest. We had a lower turnout for the reading than we had hoped, but there was still a fair collection of attendees. Tomorrow at lunch there will be a book signing which I will attend. Hee. I also read a poem that I had written on the spot, which was inspired by another poem in Azine. Here it is:

Child's Game

One, Two
Where am I going?

Three, Four
I've never been here.

Five, Six
Something's not right.

Seven, Eight
Who is counting?

Nine, Ten
Can't retrace my steps

Eleven, Twelve
Heart begins to race

Thirteen, Fourteen
What is crunching?

Fifteen, Sixteen
Bones!

Seventeen, Eighteen
Voice grows louder

Nineteen, Twenty
Too late to run

Ready or not, here I come!

I also would like to post various ruminations and ramblings from my unexpected free period today.

Dreams of dust/Cathedral
Hand blowing away/Laughing and crying
Headache/Crawling red
Tinkling music/Unwelcome impulses
Eyes rolling back in deer heads/Grins sickly and terrifying
Jacob Marley's jaw/Amadeus
Smoke and violins/Ghosts and mirrors
Legs begging to be snapped/Promise of impossible vengeance
Portraits/Bloodlust
Peripheral sneers/Nonexistent memories
Who is really behind the fourth wall?/What defines a nightmare?

If you were to die at noon tomorrow...
Would you want to know your time of death?
Or only that you were to die?
Or nothing at all?

Heads is life
Tails is death
But what if the coin
Lands on its edge?

Smeagol lied!

When a smile is seen
as a glower,
What does that say
about you?

Is anything more unsettling than
a properly grotesque wink?

In nightmares...
There are those who watch
There are those who die
And there are those who kill
Who are you?

If pain were pleasure,
Only the wise would survive

If you force yourself to look upon the horrid
Do you become stronger or weaker?

To break the mold a little, here are the two love sonnets I have written for class.

Love Sonnet

If you do love another, then declare,
For fruits of love may wither on the vine.
Those feelings sworn to secrecy do fare
Not well; what, then, am I to do with mine?
The risk I run in speaking out is high,
But so is happiness I stand to reap
Unless I find my feelings are a lie,
And then our friendship stands no chance to keep.
How shall I know if what I feel is true
While I refuse to give my thoughts a chance?
What one has once said one cannot undo:
So goes what makes a peril of romance.
My lot is at one time both blessed and cursed;
The happiest dilemmas are the worst.

Cheesy Love Sonnet

My love for you has flourished like a rose
A brilliant, glowing blossom seen by all
And with each passing day it further grows
But petals from my love will never fall
I told you that I loved you first at sight
Though I knew naught of courtship at the start
I drew my courage from your visage bright
Which now and ever dwells within my heart
A stroke of luck, the rarest of the rare
This beautiful relationship we tend
And with each soft, impassioned kiss we share
I swear to you our love will never end
To you I stand devoted through and through
There never knew a man a love so true.

While I'm posting...

Ode to Sweatpants

I’ve worn sweatpants
For ages,
At least since third grade.
Yes, I
Was a shorts-wearer for a time,
Switching to sweats on a cooler day, but
Eventually the bright city of
War Drobe was
Overrun and settled by those
Grey, soft, baggy, heavy
Sweats.
Those late February could have staked out my
Identity.
In time, legs for me became
A thing of the past,
And they were as the coins
In a magician’s palm, that one
Never sees, even though
They are known to be
There.
Recently,
Upon request, I
Betrayed
My sweatpants.
I wore jeans, and even though
Everybody said that they looked
Good,
I disappeared, becoming an
Anyteen. Dressing for comfort
And not looks, I am
Myself.
I banished that blue charade
Back into my closet
And returned to walking
The path I
Wear when I walk.

I need to take a shower now. When I next update I will discuss my life of the past few days. Then I shall begin the long and arduous process of blogging my two-months-overdue Death Valley journal!

Good night.