LilThought
03-05-2003, 05:45 PM
Hi fishies,
I realize I post my poems here all the time and I feel very selfish. I feel like I am taking up space by posting my writings. I feel quiete embarassed and ashamed now about it. This has nothing to do with any other stuff addressed, I just feel bad and maybe need to not post them as much. Soon as I write something, I just want the fishies to be the first to see how Im feeling. I dont know what to say. I just feel selfish, and it isnt that I even think my writing is any good because by all means "I" think it is below amateur, I just feel ashamed right now. So I will post this poem for now, but in the future, not post as much as I do.
Recalled to Life
in a room
my story was told
by a room
this meandering narrator
I recalled to life—
viva la vida
lived this room
breathed this room
eclipsed this room
this heist
in this room
I recalled to life—
scrutiny to mutiny
no barriers, no borders
walls were torn to pieces
all precincts were obsolete
an archaic fashion sense
squealed in terror
in a room within a room
the words weren’t read
in a room
earthquakes quaked
ceilings faltered
windows walked on water
only in this room
books emptied
language trembled
expression died
teller had naught to tell
by manuscript or by verse
this incessant room
I recalled to life—
with my joie de vivre
my throne of scholars
this room of sanction
secrets swelled
thoughts echoed
voices craved
redemption
this room recalled to life.
JLM
I realize I post my poems here all the time and I feel very selfish. I feel like I am taking up space by posting my writings. I feel quiete embarassed and ashamed now about it. This has nothing to do with any other stuff addressed, I just feel bad and maybe need to not post them as much. Soon as I write something, I just want the fishies to be the first to see how Im feeling. I dont know what to say. I just feel selfish, and it isnt that I even think my writing is any good because by all means "I" think it is below amateur, I just feel ashamed right now. So I will post this poem for now, but in the future, not post as much as I do.
Recalled to Life
in a room
my story was told
by a room
this meandering narrator
I recalled to life—
viva la vida
lived this room
breathed this room
eclipsed this room
this heist
in this room
I recalled to life—
scrutiny to mutiny
no barriers, no borders
walls were torn to pieces
all precincts were obsolete
an archaic fashion sense
squealed in terror
in a room within a room
the words weren’t read
in a room
earthquakes quaked
ceilings faltered
windows walked on water
only in this room
books emptied
language trembled
expression died
teller had naught to tell
by manuscript or by verse
this incessant room
I recalled to life—
with my joie de vivre
my throne of scholars
this room of sanction
secrets swelled
thoughts echoed
voices craved
redemption
this room recalled to life.
JLM