To a Second Story Window

Composed 5/13/16
Description: Day 9, several days late, but I have had an extremely busy weekend filled with work and orientation for my practicum, which was the thing that inspired this poem. The theme was “landscape,” the suggested device apostrophe.

Thank you, second story window
For the change in perspective
I was trapped within a cityscape
Crammed with meetings, responsibility
But you changed reality
Instead of sidewalks
I see treetops
The barest glimpse of a concrete wall overtaken
Like the city went to ruin
And nature bloomed overnight
Ivy, green, everything
Overrun by inevitable apocalypse
Now adventure awaits out there
Just outside your view


Last Page

Composed 4/14/16
Description: For Day 14 of NaPoWriMo. Can you believe it? I’m actually caught up! And I even have a poem stewing for tomorrow! Anyway.

Today I filled up the last page of my “creative” notebook: a small, lined book I usually carry around with me in order to scribble down ideas, lists, a few lines that pop into my head, or even complete poems.

open notebook with mechanical pencil
The Notebook

This notebook became a way to write down and contain my ideas in an organized place; in other words, a way to avoid writing things down on “Scraps of Paper“: receipts, random loose-leaf, napkins, etc. (i.e. things that get lost easily). Usually these are first drafts that get transferred to a Word document where they’re edited and then (ta dah!) sent to you.

Anyway, I so rarely reach the end of any notebook that this is kind of a momentous occasion for me. The beginning of this notebook coincides pretty closely with my resurgence into writing and my beginning leap into poetry. Obviously, two-hundred-something poems later, it’s been a huge success.

So what do you do when you reach that last page? That thing that symbolizes so much time and hard work and even a new section of your life?

Well, you write an ode of sorts to it, naturally.

Last page
It’s taken awhile to get here
And I’ve seen too few of your kind
I hope to not disappoint
With these last few scribbled lines
Then again
It’s not the end
You’re more like a bookmark to me
This is only one small finale
The start of many beginnings
I feel good
You’ve given me so much pride
So thanks for the memories
Thanks for the ride
I guess this is goodbye then
I’ll move on to something else
But I’ll always hold you high
Up on my bookshelf

For Emergencies (mostly)

Composed 2/25/15
Description: For Writing 201: Day 8! An ode using apostrophe and a drawer theme was my challenge for this day. I wanted to write a serious ode, because the last ode I wrote was about fruit loops, I believe… But, in the end, that didn’t happen. However, it rings very true to me… and hopefully to some of you.

When mountains of stress fall upon
When friends betray and lovers reject
And bodies curl with symptoms ill
There is only one comfort that truly succeeds
In dulling the sorrow, the anger, and grief
It breaks and melts troubles away
It sweetens the most sour of days

Oh, open for me, dear drawer!
Reveal to me my life sustainer!
Let me see
Let me taste
My chocolate


Composed 6/15/13
Description: Confession time: I am obsessed with steampunk stuff. If you don’t know what steampunk is, well, it is essentially a re-invention of Victorian England. It is what that time period might be like if steam power was utilized to its full extent — to ridiculously large proportions. Household items, weapons, (air)ships, automobiles… everything works off of steam power and these strange, mechanical inventions have influenced all of life. However, otherwise things, such as Victorian fashion, are roughly the same… just with a steam powered and mechanical twist.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, because in a few months there’s a convention going on in a city very close to me… giving me a perfect excuse to dress up! Yes, I have a costume, and I am pumped. Anyway, while daydreaming about this, I was inspired to write an “ode” to steampunk if you will. Hope you enjoy!

It’s hard to describe
The grand appeal
Of clocks and gears
And battered steel
Of smoky mist
And thick brass pipes
Of rusty gauges and
Foggy lights

It makes no sense
The love that stems
From skeleton keys
With wings and gems
Or how we wish that
This old key
Went to a ship of the air
And not the sea

With golden sails and
Bows of brass
We dream of soaring
The skies at last
Dawned with boots
Of scarred brown leather
And tall top hats
With goggles and feathers

And in the middle
Dashing slacks
With old gold buttons
And a proud red sash
Topped off with
A captain’s massive coat
With medals applauding
Our skills and boat

And then the others
Who dress much less plain
Sport corsets and bustles
And waistcoats with chains
Oh, why do we long for
This made up time
When old London
And steam power run prime

I guess we just want
To get away
From the normalcy
Of the day to day
We want to dream
Of inventions, adventures
That are all our own
That no one can censor