Perhaps I Could

I hope you are having a happy Monday! Today I am going to be blogging about something a little different from my earlier posts, because today I am incorporating a poem. In the fall I will be going to graduate school at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville for creative writing, specializing in poetry and so I think it will be nice to pop my greatest passion on here now and again.

I would like to share with you my most recent poem titled, “Perhaps I Could.” It is a poem dealing primarily with nature imagery, but also has whispers of cultural perception about what is right and beautiful. It has not been work-shopped as of yet and so you are reading it in one of its most raw stages. I hope you enjoy!

Photo Credit: sixbysixtasy via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: sixbysixtasy via Compfight cc

I turn this way and that all day,

feel the leaves crunch under my boots like delicate paper flowers cracking

and then he buys them for me, red and bleeding

and I am suppose to love them as they are deemed mine,

but I inspect the underbelly of deeper black shrivels

they act like shaky stilts underneath a healthy glowing hue,

the whole thing is dying.

I trudge past puddles of water piles,

they slouch comfortably into the rock and dirt,

they spread and soak the pricks of green stalks,

the russet leaves with their cracks lift and float,

in another world much smaller than my own

and my face is reflected disjointed and suspended in its reflection,

I could dig myself a place.

I lean against trees with hands like leaves,

rain trees that brush the hair from the face,

replacing it with its sticky sap and seeds,

I push into it with all my weight, peel off bits of stiff bark wrapping,

its voice lives in the wind’s whisper and wrath,

and it sizzles like hot water boiling,

threatens the clouds that roll into its top branches, starving it of sun.

I think I could,

perhaps I would like a puddle or maybe a tree that sighs,

perhaps I could place them both as armor and shackle my life,

I will close my eyes and feel what it is to be alive and I will have no flowers.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s