Books and Poetry

I cannot wait for my books that I recently ordered from B&N. I went a little overboard when I should not have--that's a given, however, I still am expecting to be reading and writing a lot this summer. For one thing I plan on reading everything on my reading list, and those old books I've wanted to re-read for a long time by the last Sunday in August.

I've started off on a rocky path to reading and writing this summer when my mind shut down for a few weeks and I had so much to say and so many emotions that was lurking behind to escape, but I had no will to write a drop, nor was I strong enough to just write it all away. Odd--considering I find solace, harmony, balance and happiness in writing. I find strength in my ability to express myself and the revelations I excavate at the end of my writing exercises. But I just could not get myself to write. All I could do was to zone out, and I guess I just needed my mind to shut down and my heart to become numb, so I can restart and just look logically at my wounds, so I can heal them in a healthy way. I needed to get myself in a healthy mind set in order to be able to take care of myself. Shutting down at that moment was the only thing I knew how to take care of myself.

I was so relieved when everything was over that I didn't know what to do with myself. A ton was lifted off my shoulders. Writing about it in a blog, or my thought journal, or making a short-story out of it, writing one more poem about him seemed ridiculous and to give him more power over my creative forces just felt stupid. He didn't deserve it, so there was no way I was going to write about it. And now, it's over. I can write whatever I want, only from a logical way where I am analyzing my past and coming to terms with my own idiocy. It's another experience under my belt, which I can use to connect to an audience, but most important to others in humanity. For one thing, I've been writing very short, and well, very limited blog posts for a long time now, due to the restrictions on my self expression, due to being constrained and having so much energy sucked out of my soul. Now, look at me. It's hard to pull me away, it's even harder for me to stop. My entries are once again full, (somewhat childish) and long. I am not afraid to speak up again--freely. I don't feel those arbitrary restrictions there that were placed there by invisible hands. There is one person behind it all, and well he knows who he is :). Also I couldn't focus enough to finish reading a book in a while. The bubbles are sifting their way up and I will probably finishing a few novels a week after this point in time. Ah, that's one thing I am definitely looking forward to this summer.

I am brimming with so many story ideas and there are emotions that are just waiting the exact right moment to come out and to attach themselves to other words and turn into stanzas and before I know it, I'll be dotting my i's and crossing my t's of a poem. No more tears to roll down on my softened pieces of composition notebook papers. The world out there can be so beautiful with it's bold colors of the spectrum, it's eccentric smells and people of unforgettable traits and qualities. This summer will definitely be a very literary productive and time spent and earned well.

On that note, here's a poem I know anyone will enjoy.

"Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal"
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.

Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.

--Lord Alfred Tennyson