What a semester! I’ve done a lot of changing and growing, making decisions about who I am and what I want. I came into college thinking that I had everything mapped out, and now I’m entering my last semester (!!!) with more questions than answers. I guess that’s life. XD I’ve got some time this semester to explore possible pathways and new opportunities. I’m nervous, but I know that this is what’s best for me, and I want to rise to the challenge instead of disengaging, of holding back like I am wont to do. I am excited for what’s ahead, and I hope to update you soon. I will have more free time to write creatively this semester, so I am going to try to post more often. I might have to borrow the monthly musical sharing format from my good friend Torrence. Today, you get a poem and a song. 🙂
Here’s a poem that I wrote during my junior year of high school. I think I’ve already posted it once before, but I couldn’t find the post to reblog it. Why, oh why did I decide to write my thesis on The Glass Menagerie! XD I think part of why I’m having so much difficulty with it is because the subject matter hits a little too close to home. (My new user name is a reference. 🙂 )I still love it though. Tennessee Williams was *quite* the interesting person, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he would be at least a little amused, maybe even strangely proud, of the wrestling that I am doing with his work. ***Just a note before the poem, I wrote it by slicing up and combining lines from the play; I didn’t write the original lines myself. (If you haven’t read the play yet, I highly recommend it. It’s an American classic.)
Their eyes had failed them, or they had failed their eyes,
One crack—and it falls through,
She lives in a world of her own—a world of little glass ornaments.
You and me, we’re not the warehouse type.
Whenever I pick up a shoe, I shudder a little thinking how short life is,
I know it doesn’t mean shoes—except as something to wear on a traveler’s feet.
People go to the movies instead of moving!
I’m tires of the movies and I am about to move!
I had that brace on my leg—it clumped so loud,
To me it sounded like—thunder.
A little physical defect is what you have,
Hardly noticeable even,
Magnified thousands of times by imagination.
Let yourself go, now, Laura,
Just let yourself go.
They’re common as-weeds, but you, well,
But blue is wrong for—roses.
It’s right for you!
I think we may have grace—now…