Love Is Old

I wrote this last semester, it is a little out there, I know. But I like it because it is open to whatever interpretation you want. My professor last semester, however, did not like it.

Love is old, love is new
Love is all, love is you
but all is old
And you are new
how old in age
But all so true
Love is old, love is new
Love is all, love is you.
You, the love that is new
And I, the love of old
Will all but dance the lovers’ tale
Though I have given the chance to
You, the love that is new
And I, the love of old.
But as hands intertwine
As the words spoken divine
Hushes of ‘I do’
Ring ah, but true.
Love like the old,
But embrace the new
All is you, as all is I
Like love’s new and old truth
All which in you now rings.

(Based on The Beatles piece, Because)

I haven't titled this yet...I can't seem to decide what to call it. It is a little rough but I like it the way it is. I think it should stay rough like it is, since this is a "in the moment" poem. However, I played with writing one poem from two angles.

I told her to close her eyes
I ran the tip of my finger across her eyelashes of black
feeling each one graze the print of my finger
watching as her eyes frantically moved under her lids
slightly flinching
I let my finger run down the bridge of her nose
from the middle of her brow to the tip
and then down to the bend in her lip
forming the curve of her mouth
her lips opened just a little
my finger an explorer feeling the intake of breath
and as I explored her lips
so soft and full not plump
she kissed my finger
if I had not been paying such close attention to her mouth
I would not have noticed
so soft was this kiss of breath
I continued my journey
down her chin
over the slight cleft
which she lifted
exposing her beautiful neck
dark because of light
but also because of who she is
and I felt her swallow nervously
my finger tip was joined by the rest of its companions
my hand glided down the plains of her chest
feeling the softness of the skin
until I felt the music beating from inside
and I rested my hand
concluding my journey

He laid me down and kissed my face
whispering to me to close my eyes
nervously I let my sight become veiled
and he ever so gently grazed my eyelashes
I could barely feel this loving touch
like when a petal is rubbed against the skin
barely felt except for knowing that it is happening
and he traced my nose from the top to the tip
and when he reached my lips he paused ever so slightly
I felt as his finger tip glided across my lip
over the curve and across the bottom
I have never felt anything with so much care
I inhaled suddenly
and I followed with a kiss to his finger
my lips tingled and wanted his own
as his finger left my mouth and slowly
climbed over my chin
I tilted my head slowly
exposing my bare neck
my vulnerability
and he traced adding to this feeling more fingers
and then he placed one finger after the other
across my chest
tracing my collar bone
gliding to my breast
pausing over my heart beat
resting over my love


I looked at her face and whispered open your eyes
and when she did she stared at the ceiling
as a smile slowly started to form
and she lowered her gaze to me
and when our eyes met
I saw my life begin


As I took a breath I heard him whisper to open my eyes
and when I did I stared at the ceiling
joy over taking every thought
I looked down at him
and when I looked into his eyes
I knew he was the one.

My Soul Mate Stranger

I met this guy at my friend Renae's party back in November, I think. I was unaware we had exchanged numbers that night until a day or two later I noticed his name in my contacts list. I then logged onto Facebook and realized that we were friends on there, too. I did not recall becoming friends with him. We didn't talk, ever, until this week, January. We chatted on Facebook first, and he said that I should read Cats Cradle. I said that I would have to get to B&N to read it. That I would "grab a comfy chair, a coffee, the book, and read it but not buy it." He said that he did the exact same thing and that he thought that he was the only one. I thought I was the only one, too. This got our conversation going. Last night, I was talking to him on the phone for five hours. Five hours! I asked him a book he would recommend, Cats Cradle. We talked about our favorite shows, which just happen to be the same; about our favorite foods, Apple Jacks vs. Life. He asked me what Beatles album I liked the most, White Album and Revolver of course, and he liked the same. We liked the same Beatles songs, we like the same bands. And if I didn't know a band that he was talking about, he recommended songs. I am now in love with Sigur Ros. He is burning me Zaireeka, which I am so jealous he has! I just couldn't believe it. He is the kind of guy that I would totally go after. We have so much in common, including, yes, our love of Harry Potter. But I would not, am not, going to go after him. He is just too cool. It just really sucks, because he is my soul mate, and a stranger.

Latest News!

This just in:

My article that I wrote on the President of Viterbo University and the current financial status is going to be front page news of the newspaper!

My next article will be on Dorothy Leonard, a Professor of Science running for Mayor. Another front page story for the next issue of Lumen.

The Best Times

Inhale...

Exhale...

TENSION leaves and becomes

relaxation.

Thoughts disappear into nothing
while eccentric ideas begin to form.

Feelings of utter happiness blossom
from the inside like little butterflies
tickling the lining of the body.

Smiles spread across faces expressing
sheer joy over nothing.

Laughter fills the air around heads
rolling lazily from side to side.

Inhale...

Exhale...

Fall into bed.

Lupus

Mom, I don't want to have kids.
The fact, the idea, of being told that I could die,
Just by being pregnant, or giving birth, like you almost did?
I - I just can't.
Why did you have to tell me?
Why would you think to tell me this?
Who are you? Who are you tell me such a terrible thing?
A common cold could kill me.
I could get pneumonia like you,
Almost every year.
Yes, because this makes me want to have kids, Mom.
I could cough blood on a daily basis,
I could have a heart attack when I'm 30.
Stress could kill me. Could weaken me.
Like it does you. But how do you do it?
You still live on.
You still face everyday no matter how grim or stressful,
Knowing that it could be your last if it need be.
Are you ready to die, Mom?
Are you ready to leave me? And Brady? And your husband?
How can you say you are?
I just don't understand. I'm more worried than you.
I want to have kids, my own kid. Like you did.
But I don't want to find out that I am like you.
That I could die...like you.

Wonderment

Sometimes I wonder about things.
Do you? No. Oh. Okay.
Sometimes I wonder about the future.
What is my life going to be like in five years?
I hope I am in graduate school.
I hope I'm not engaged or pregnant or married.
It's weird, I know, to wonder these things.
To wish those three to happen.
But I would like them to happen
In order, of course.
I like the idea of being engaged.
I think I would be a cute pregnant lady.
I would be the one that puts big headphones
On her belly filled with classical music
So her baby is filled with music,
Just like her mother did when she was pregnant.
I am keeping my last name.
Did you know I am the last of my family name?
No. Really?
Yes, I am. Kind of crazy, don't you think?
I want a contemporary wedding.
I want to wear a crimson gown but with a lacy top and sleeves.
I'm not good with white colored clothes.
Sometimes I wonder about where I will be when I am old.
Like 50, maybe 55.
It scares me. I get all nervous inside. My heart races.
Will I be who I want to be? Will I have done what I wanted to do?
Seen what I wanted to see?
Or not? Will I have just slept though my life and then one day,
One day too soon, I'll wake up and say "Shit, what is this gray hair?"
Though I doubt I will have gray hair, very few people in my family do.
Ok...
I'm just saying, or rather trying to say, that I think of these thoughts,
These random moments in a person's life, my life.
I think about the day I die. I don't want to die.
If I could, you know, I would live forever.
I'm afraid of death. The thought of the unknown.
I live for not knowing, but that's just it, I live meaning I won't be dead afterward.
But to leave, to sleep forever, to never again see, smell, hear, taste life.
It's scary. And I can't wrap my mind around it. How do people say they are ready?
How can you be ready for the unknown?
I usually stop thinking about here, because it's too much to bear.
And I'm scared.

Abeo

She was my idol, my star, my future self.
Though I met her when I was only eight
And she 87,
I knew she was a great woman, an amazing woman.
Culture, wisdom, wealth, stature, life itself leaked from
every pore in her body
enveloping me in its sweet smell.
This woman was an artist, a Southern High Society woman,
brought up in a well-to-do Sicilian family out east.
She was the 'it' girl of her time.
Her trunks of fine clothes and jewelry,
her boxes of paintings that hung in galleries,
all of this was hers.
Eyes that shone so bright hid a dark past just out of sight.
She called me Mary once, though it's obviously not my name.
As the years went by, so did she.
The time stole her away from me.
Her hair, once gray, was now thin and white like her silk blouses.
Her eyes dyed slowly, faded to a dull blue-green.
Her eyes lost recognition, her body shut down.
Now all I have of a brilliant woman,
are some dusty paintings in an attic-
an ocean with seagulls flying in the blue sky,
a pink and peach sunset behind the trees,
a vase of dark flowers on a black canvas,
and of a cabin chimney smoking in the pine forest in the
dark of night with the white moon reflecting in the lake's surface.
Hat boxes filled with feathered and furred things,
silks and cashmere, the rest of her fine clothes boxed up and taped.
Jewelry from around the world, like her black onyx ring from Africa,
or her rosary from her childhood, and all her pearls and diamonds and gold.

The Foreigner

I sat there
Facing the front
Staring at the chalkboard
Waiting for class to start
Nervous for the year ahead
But excited for what was waiting
I wondered if this was the year
The year I would stand out and become
Exactly who I wanted to be
And then I heard it
It was nothing really
Just a cough
But even his cough sounded foreign
I could hear his accent through his cough
And shit was it sexy
I wanted to turn around and look at him
This guy with the foreign cough
But instead I just sat there
Knowing that I would see him again
On Thursday

Social Security

We are all just a number in the government’s eyes.
Just a social number, no one knows where the security lies.
We are the people, yet we have no say
In what goes on from day to day.
We live our lives in crime and passion
Sending our boys to die, old fashion.
Nouvelle mode: everyone is a number.
No names or personalities,
No faces. Random heart places.
Misdeeds and dishonesty,
Who is here for us whole-heartedly?
United we stand,
We have fallen victim to the break of the hand.
Watch as the rich get rich and the poor get poor,
No dollar to hand out, no more, no more.
We are the free,
Yet we are chained despite our destiny.
We are all just a number in the government’s eyes.
A social number, no one knows where the security lies.

Most Important as of Yet

Yesterday President Artman held a forum about the financial budget for the next school year. This was sort of an emergency meeting to calm nerves and to set stories straight. Viterbo is a private school, which means we receive no federal/state funding. Amazingly, our school, unlike some other private schools, is not going through a financial crisis of its own. I am happy to hear this, since I know that some schools are thinking about closing, cutting faculty, and having a hard time to help the students on scholarship and loan to continue their education. I am a student on scholarship and lucky for me, my loan company has not pulled out for the sake of saving their own asses.
This is important for me not only because now I can rest assured I am financially supported still in the economic downfall of this great country (hint of sarcasm) but that this is my first very important article I've written for the paper. Kudos to me! I am very excited, I bought a voice recorder just for this event and I felt like true reporter when I sat down in the President's office for a private interview. I very much enjoyed this and that moment will always be a very important moment in my life. It may seem minuscule to someone else, but since I normally write about tutoring offered at the learning center or who won an award, a story like this, an important story that answers many a person's questions...well it is very important to me.

Random Files On My Laptop

These are just a few random paragraphs. Sometimes I just write an idea down and then I forget about it. Yesterday I went through my files, looking for something else and found these.

I saw you. I saw you walking by my window. Once on a cold, fall day. I heard you talking on your cell phone. You laughed, so full and loud. I smiled. I smiled because I hoped that hone day you would be on your cell phone laughing with me on the other line. Though I know that day may not come, it was just a thought of a distant and unrealistic future. Just a hope. A dream. A passing thought of a past memory. You with that smile, that perfect smile. The fall leaves blowing past my window, which was framing my mind on that fall day. Full of rain and dreariness, you passed and suddenly the day was brighter, if just for a second. It was better. I know nothing of you; I don't even know your name. But you passed by my window, laughing, smiling, talking on your cell phone, and my day was good.

I am not always a good person, but I try my hardest to always set good examples sot hat others may not be me, but have the chance to be better. I have learned that parents lie, but only because telling the truth is not always the way to go with kids. I know that parents try, and I know that I have tried. But I can only try so hard before I can try no more. Life is hard. It's the truth. I do not like to admit my faults, my failures, my inabilities, and my unsuccessful life. No matter, I have continued to push myself past all obstacles nd do not give up so easily.

Some days the sky is falling. It's falling away. The stars only shine bright for so long, and then they fade away. The sky seems to be falling and it is falling on me. The wind is blowing its blowing and its blowing my mind away. All my thoughts are being carried on the windy waves away, away, away from me. The sky is turning dark as black and the wind is rising, it's rising. I stand here on this bluff and I wait for the time to fall. To fall, fall way with the sky and fade into the darkness like the stars. I would be carried on the windy waves and my thoughts would travel far.

Some days, you make me want to fly away. You make me want to fly so high, where the stars collide. Where the Moon and the Sun control the darkness and the light. I want to soar into the unknown and glide along the Milky Way of life, into another. You can come along too if you would like. I want to feel good inside, full of butterflies and sparkles and delight. I want to feel light and float through my life. I am me, and you are whoever you are. I feel light headed and free, full of happiness and elation and joy. I can't stop this smile from spreading across my face. Laughter escapes me. And I am drifting my way across this empty space of time and times times. I am.

These were originally ideas to start poems or short stories. One of them, though not posted, actually turned into a short story that I decided to continue and finish, using it as a piece for my portfolio last semester.

What the Future Holds

We all think about it, the future. Where will we be in a few years? Will something happen to me? Will I be in an accident? Will I die? Will I be engaged? Will I still be in school? Will I be successful? Will I be pregnant? Will I be happy? All these questions run through my mind, as I'm sure they do everyone else. The future is scary. How can we be ready for it? Then comes the question we ask ourselves years later: If I could go back would I do it all again? I think about this question all the time. Especially being a student in college, I think about this question daily. I usually think about certain times in my life that I wish I could redo. I also think about the last couple years in reference to my own education. For instance, when I think about times that I wish I could redo in my life, I have to remind myself that every experience, every person that I have met, every conversation I have had has had an impact on who I am today, or at least has had an impact on the journey to the person I have become thus far. I may wish to forget those things, but then I have to ask myself, would I be myself? My answer is always no, I wouldn't be the same. I would be someone else, either nicer or meaner, smarter or more naive. When I begin to think about my education, I wonder if I should have gone to a different school to study Clarinet performance instead of coming here to study vocal performance. Should I have changed my major to English, or should I have stayed in the Music Education field? Is making this choice in career paths smart? I know that my dream is to work for National Geographic. Always has been. But the road to that ultimate goal is rocky and full of disappointment. Can I handle that? Is English really the field that is me? Or is there something else out there that I have yet to discover and I will change all over again? Am I actually changing? Or am I just finding what fits me the most?
Of course, all this pondering could go on forever. I just have one more thing. Do you wonder about the very far future? The future that isn't actually the beginning of something, but the future that is near the end? I always wonder if I will be happy with my accomplishments, am I going to be scared, am I going to be ready, will I have family, or will I be the end, because I am the end of my family blood line. Obviously, I get a little skirmish trying to imagine what my last years, days, hours will be like. No one could possible know. I think my favorite question of all time is officially what does the future hold for me?

I Think I Loved Once

Last night I had a dream about an ex-boyfriend that I'd had the summer before my freshman year of college. Our relationship as a couple only lasted about a month, but we had been friends since my freshman year of high school. He is a couple years older than me and incredibly smart and charming. I never knew how much I liked him until my senior year rolled around after spending every moment of my summer talking to him and hanging with him. I remember that while he spent 5 months abroad in Germany for school I grew more fond of him every day. When he got back, a few weeks early and surprised me by pulling into my driveway, I do believe that it was the happiest moment of my life to that point. However, I think that we liked each other so much, too much, that our relationship was doomed at the beginning. We couldn't get enough of each other, our relationship was so intense, and we always talked about the future. I freaked and I believe that I intentionally ruined a perfect relationship. It has been years now, we recently talked for the first time in almost a year and it felt weird, but good. I realized after hanging up the phone that I probably loved him. I might still love him. I think that I compare every guy to him and that is why no one has met my standards, because no one is him, nor could be him. In my dream, he was in his army uniform and was at this shopping center. I gave him a hug hello and then we kissed and we kept kissing. He held me so tight and I told him I loved him and we ended up spending the entire day together, and then I woke up. Sometimes I wish that I hadn't done what I had to ruin such an amazing relationship and to break him like I did. I wish I had been brave and just let it run the course it was meant to run, see where we would end up. Sometimes I feel like if I had just let the relationship evolve, we would still be together, just as close, and maybe talking about our distant future together. I never thought about marriage that much, or kids. I never have seen myself with someone, just one person for the rest of my life. With him though, I constantly thought about everything in detail. The engagement, what the ring would look like, living together, the wedding, the gown, the honeymoon, being pregnant with his child, and growing old together. When I think about him and what I did wrong and how I feel now, I realize something. I think I may have loved this man once.

The Loser In All Of Us

All of us has a bit of loser within. After watching Little Miss Sunshine for the upteenth time I have realized that everyone is a loser. Take me for example. In high school I was a band nerd and a choir geek, in the Drama Club, my favorite past times were going to either a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop or spending a day in a Barnes and Noble armchair with a stack of books. I also was on the dance team, well-liked, went to prom with my boyfriend, Mr. Popular, and had lots of friends. Everyone is a Loser. I think my brother is a loser, my parents are losers, my teachers and professors are all losers, my co-workers are losers, the president is a loser, the my friends are losers, and all the doctors at the hospital down the street are losers. I think those that think they are better than others are the biggest losers of all. They are the least liked, the most unhappy, and usually, the most lonely. I strongly believe that those who have failed the most and have nothing to show for themselves but themselves are the biggest winners. Those few people are kind, generous, and humble for they know they are losers, but they too know that they are happy with whatever they may have acquired in their quaint lives and therefore they are the true winners. Everyone is a loser. From the lawyer with the button collection, the rocker that listens to classical music, the teacher that works at Wal-Mart part-time, the doctor that will drive hundreds of miles for a Star Wars convention, to the football jock that wants to study art. All of us, no matter how successful, how beautiful, how intelligent, nor nerdy, geekish, or complete failure, we are all losers. I guess that also in a way, if someone is able to acknowledge these moments of "loser" in our lives, then we would be able to call ourselves winners. But only after we can accept being losers can we call ourselves this. Until then, we are what we are: Losers.