Blast from the Past

As a young angst-ridden teen I delved into poetry on the occasional whim. My stuff was never much to write home about. However, like I mentioned before, I’m determined to improve my writing, and I think part of that process involves flexing that muscle in unfamiliar or long-forgotten ways. And so here we go! My first attempt at poetry (beyond the drunken birthday haiku) in many, many moons. Feel free to tear it apart, dear readers, especially if you have experience in this realm!

Side note: This is for Randy Pagham, one of my best and most helpful critics ever. Every time you come to mind I miss you. I miss your words of wisdom, your stern but gracious advice on my work, and your own beautifully subtle creativity.

I don’t have a title for this yet. My initial plan was to call it “The Art and Pain of Solitude” but it didn’t seem fitting once I was finished… though perhaps I’m not… Incidentally, isn’t it funny and kind of exciting when you end somewhere utterly different than where you began?

Well, without further adieu…

**Hint: as fellow blogger jamiebtwentythirteen suggests on their blog here, you may enjoy listening to my ‘current jam’ as you read the poem. I attempted to semi-mimic the staccato rhythm of the song, because I was truly listening to it when I began scribbling away in my idea notebook.

Fingers graze over imaginary keys
As I re-play that familiar mood.
A hazy tune rehearsed with melancholic ease,
At once pitiable; a deprecating brood.
 
“La-la-di-da” my eyes sing in harmony; watching the notes float lazily
Away on a hitched breath of forced fluidity.
 
And I wonder, how I wonder
Why I inflict this musical torture.
My focus and thoughts lay all asunder;
The bloody aftermath of an emotional rupture.
 
I grasp vainly at straws, in meager attempts
To address and assimilate all my flaws
Into a portrait; a picture of an accurate, beautiful me.
 
Oh what a bitter ecstasy
To grieve the end of we, the happy three. 
A dream which, when I wake still glimmers at bay, 
Alive at the edge of my periphery.
Droplets fall as I silently hope
And trust this bruise nye will stay –
One day my ethereal tones will finally stray
As your allure slowly, eventually, fades away.

Current Jam: “Where is My Mind?” Piano version,  by Maxence Cyrin

 

One thought on “Blast from the Past

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