Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts

Sunday, December 25, 2011

The Heart

Lock it up,

Keep it close

Bar the door

But keep the window open.



Let it live

It needs air

It is easily broken

But protect it from harm



It’s a gentle thing

Yet it can be cold

It’s a giving thing

But it can be the cruelest of all.



It keeps a goal

It takes it’s time

It keeps a beat

But it’s quick to fall.



It moves life

Through our veins

It’s a part of us

But it has a mind of its own.



A hopeless romantic,

A match-maker,

A bubbly little thing

But it gives itself away without thinking twice.



It is the heart

Our hearts

My heart

But it’s really all the same.



Our hearts bind us

And bleeds and beats

And cries and laughs

But they can also be so indifferent.



It will drive you mad

To try and figure it out

It gives life a purpose

But you can’t predict its actions.



It’s more than just an organ

A pump of the body

It can make you insane

But its joys are incomparable.



So keep your heart close

Protect is from itself

But once it decides to fall

You’re going down with it.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Inspiration

Fall Semester is finally over, and I’m already starting to dread the Spring Semester, but let’s not think about that. Now that I have the time to write, and I mean truly sit down and just do it and not thinking about anything else, or rushing so that I can get it over with and move on to some sort of assignment, self assigned or otherwise.

The subject according to the subject heading I picked is inspiration. So, I’ll start there, the inspiration for this post is that I just visited my Aunt Christine in the hospital today. Well, she’s not really my aunt, but I’ve adopted her. She's just had brain surgery to have a tumor removed. I watched her going through the past year as she prepared herself physically, mentally and spiritually for this surgery and I think I will take away from this time watching and being with her as a really inspirational rather than a scary experience (though it certainly was). After all of the stress and worry it was good to see her picking at her indigestible hospital food and great us with a tired but sweet smile.

I met my aunt not long after my family moved to California and my Mama and I were looking for a place to grow as writers. We found the Coffee House Writers Group and I was very pleased to join it. Christine was both the leader and organizer of the group and now she has definitely earned the title Fearless leader. She's officially one of the bravest people I've ever met. Forget my veteran Grandfather, cousins and Great Uncle, anyone can get drafted.

So, after I wrote my title (yes, sometimes I write a title before writing a post) I asked myself after I chose my title, (or my title chose me) what inspires me? Who inspires me? But most importantly: what does it or they inspire me to do or be?

 I thought of Christine and her poor head looking like something from a horror or graphic civil war film (which are pretty much the same thing) and Christine’s playful comment that she was going to be trying out for Frankenstein’s Monster’s Wife; although now that I think of it, one would be hard pressed to find someone casting for such a roll during Yuletide…

  She inspires me to be happy, to be brave, to write, to smile, to live, to love and above all to be me, especially during hard times.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Apples

A musician am I,

A player with words

Some say it’s the poet

But I put them all to shame.



I go down the dirt road

To see what I can find:

A vender selling apples

A not too common sight.



I stepped to a basket

And grabbed one for a bite

I know the sweeter insides

As it is my favorite part

But without the bitter skin

The sweetness has no more appeal.



I take a seat

To watch the afternoon

Pass me by.

Before long I nodded off

And I dream I did comprise.



I gazed upon an apple

Which landed in my lap.

Its mother, I knew not where she stood

All I know is her baby

Fell from the sky.



The smooth skin I knew so well,

Though yet easily broken

To press it in any place leaves a bruise.



Not unlike a heart

I thought as

 I rolled the fruit

Between my hands.



Like a heart, that’s troubled love

Did press until a mark,

Was all that was left behind.



The bruise is not immediate

Show the mark, but only

To be found by gentle touch.



The wounds are sensitive

And if not remedied

Shall poison all the rest.



With many shaped and tones

It has many personalities.

The small blackened spots are old injuries.

They are tough and hard

They show experience and past.

It is beneath the dark surface

The sweetest juice is found.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

50 Things That Are Right About Me

50 Things that are Right About Me



Here’s a good self-esteem booster I found on the blog of a fellow writer. Here’s the link to her blog: http://coreenamcburnie.blogspot.com/2011/09/50-things-that-are-right-about-me.html

Just list 50 things that are right about you, and it will help you realize there is nothing wrong with you.



1.       I love to quilt with my Mama

2.       I love my dog

3.       I love both my brothers

4.       I love my parents

5.       I love to write

6.       I have been a storyteller since I could speak

7.       I love acting

8.       I love to listening to Skillet

9.       I love Amy Lee’s voice

10.   I think Jacoby Shaddix is a hoot

11.   I think Jerry Horton is hot

12.   I think TV is a load of crap more times than not

13.   I think Christine Bryant is a sweet heart

14.   I think people over-use and misuse the word “friend”

15.   I think my brother’s little dog is a little nuts

16.   I think Billy Joe from Green Day should never get his teeth straightened

17.   I love Three Days Grace’s last album “Life Starts Now”

18.   I love giving my family hugs

19.   I think that this year I will be able to pay for a dress that I’ve been dying to buy since I saw it.

20.   I love the color pink

21.   I think everyone looks better with long hair

22.   School comes before my job

23.   School comes after my family

24.   Nothing comes after my family

25.   Listening to music makes me happy

26.   Listening to music makes me more creative

27.   I love Chi tea

28.   I’m okay with wearing no makeup

29.   I don’t like short skirts

30.   I love wearing hats

31.   I’d rather wear glasses than contacts

32.   I am a witch

33.   I am a musician

34.   I am a natural artist

35.   I don’t care if people hate me for my hair color

36.   I am drawn toward real people

37.   I have a pretty mouth

38.   I like my hands

39.   I enjoy watching movies with my family

40.   I love sunny days

41.   I have the cutest dog in the world!

42.   I have the cutest little brother in the world

43.   I got my driver’s license on the third try

44.   I like to sleep in

45.   I like chatting with cool people on the internet

46.   I exercise everyday

47.   I always get my homework in on time

48.   I like helping people

49.   I like staying up late

50.   I love living in California



Please follow my blog and friend me on facebook where I keep an update on all of my progress with my books and my blog. Thanks for your support.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Skillet, Whispers


Love, love, love this song!! "My love is, just waiting, to turn your tears to roses!" Turn it up and rock!

Sunday, September 25, 2011

A Talk with My Piano Teacher

Ever since we moved to California, my family and I have been unable to find a piano teacher we can afford. So, my brother’s and I have been teaching ourselves new pieces. Our old teacher, Fran, told us before we left that we all knew enough between the three of us that we could all keep learning with each other’s help and no teacher.

  Yesterday I called Fran because I hadn’t contacted her in a while and had been meaning to for some time. Her husband picked up and I when I said my name he didn’t remember my name, but after I said I was the red-head who used to take lessons from Fran and they would always run late he remembered me and said he’d try to find her.

  Fran was always more like the grandmother I never had than a piano teacher, she’s sweet and forgetful like an older woman should be, and she tends to go off on some story and then forget what her point was; though there was plenty of piano playing involved in the time we spent with her I assure you. She was just very special; I wish we could have brought her with us.

  She answered the phone and was very pleased to hear me as she said at least five times throughout the phone call. She would just tack on to the end of her sentence, “and I’m so glad you called me dear, it’s so good to hear from you.” I don’t have the greatest memory in the world either, so this is not exactly the way the conversation went, but she is just so sweet and I miss her so much, I couldn’t avoid writing it down.

  After she greeted me she said, "I knew you were going to call me, because I was thinking about you and I thought they should call me."

Me: And here I am!

  Fran: Right dear, here you are, now how are things going have you found a job? (it‘s obvious in hindsight that she had wanted to ask this question since she got on the phone).

  Me: Yes, I’m selling Avon.

  Fran: Oh, really? That’s wonderful dear. How about your brother?

  Me: He’s still looking.

  Fran: Right well, I should have said this…but- I know it’s going to sound silly but, I think you all should try teaching piano. I think it would be a good experience for you since lessons are so expensive out there, you could probably find some little kids to teach and it will greatly benefit you, as well as making some money. You won’t charge as much because you don’t have a master’s degree and you have no experience, but that will be fair, and the teachers there shouldn’t get upset about you charging less because you don’t have any experience.

  Me:  Yeah.

  Fran: I mean, I learned so much after I started teaching. Because you have to think a lot; you have to ask yourself, ‘how am I going to teach this?’

  Me: Yes, but I’m not sure what a good age to start would be, because as I got out doing my daily errands I see kids and a lot the five and six-years-olds are just so unruly.

  Fran: Five year-olds are terrible and my old teacher got four five-years-olds and she didn’t want to teach them, so she gave them to me and I was seventeen-years-old and with no teaching experience at all! I had no idea what I was doing and they left after three weeks. I couldn’t control four five-year-olds! They were running around, jumping, and laughing at me. I had no control over them. So they left. Then after I got married and my first husband and I were living in Wichita Kansas, and like most young people, we were short on money. So my husband told me I needed to start teaching and I said ‘O-o-okay’ then I loved it. I learned so much! And the feeling that you get when your student goes to a recital and plays well is great. You can imagine what that did for my ego, because if your student does well, then you must be a good teacher.

  Me: Yeah.

  Fran: And I am a very good teacher, I’m so old now, there’s really no point in modesty. I am a good teacher and have been for a long time. Then there’s my old student S- did you ever meet him?

  Me: Yes, I believe I did once.

  Fran: Well, he lives down in Florida and he works for a music store and he was doing pretty well, but he still needed some money, so he started teaching and he does rather well…I don’t know how I started talking about all of this.

  Me: You think piano teaching would be good for me.

Fran: Right, yes, it would be very good I think for you and both your brothers, but especially you.

  Around this time the phone was disconnected and I had to redial, I won’t go into all that we talked about, but after I spoke with her I decided that everyone needs a Fran in their life and my brothers and I are going to make an extra effort to speak to her more often.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Not Even Hate


Keep your life,

The way you want it to be

Keep your life

Happiness is the key



Do what you want to

Act like no one sees you.

Just keep yourself

Away from me.



Once upon a time

A long time ago,

You walked into my life

And over my heart

Like I had no feelings

The only thing I have no feelings for

Is you.



You broke my life

You ruined my heart

You twisted my dreams.



I wanted to see you

Burn in Hell

Now guess I’m over it.



Don’t get me wrong

I haven’t forgiven you,

There are just some things

A woman can’t get over



I just have realized

You’re not worth the time

To wish you ill

(That’s the devil’s job,

I’ll let him deal with you.)



‘Cause once upon a time,

A long time ago

You walked into my life

And stomped on my heart



I have no feelings left

For you

Not even hate.



You broke my dreams,

You twisted my life

You ruined my heat



Now I guess I’m over it.



I had my cry

You had your say

Now just go away.

Friday, August 5, 2011

"This was my week..."

Well, I can’t really make up my mind on whether or not my week was a good one or not.

  On Monday I did the usual house cleaning that I do every first Monday of the month. I washed the bed sheets, just like every Monday, and I made reminder calls to my Avon customers who hadn’t placed any orders this campaign, which this time was everyone, with the exception of my Mama. It was bizarre; did anyone else get the memo about this Monday being, Don’t-Pick-Up-Your-Phone Monday? I kid you not, nobody picked up, and by noon I had placed my order consisting of my order and my Mama’s order without a call back from any of my customers. After I placed the order one customer called to say she didn’t want anything.

  Tuesday was a little bit better. I registered for my college classes, and remarkably enough, I got enough Units to be a full time student and I’m not on any waitlists! I know; I was shocked too.

  Wednesday nothing of import really happened, I put some of the new brochures on some of my customer’s doorsteps.

  Thursday was my Papa’s birthday, and I made cupcakes for him. I also put an Avon brochure in laundry mat that Mama goes to, it’s the end of the first week for Campaign 17 and I’ve only gotten rid of a few booklets. I’m not very pleased with myself, but I can’t really help it. I also found out that I got my first on-line customer order: Mama, shocker. I’m grateful that she ordered, if one customer orders every campaign, it cancels the fee Avon charges for me to have an on-line store; but...it’s still Mama.

  So I feel pretty worthless, but I’m going to keep on working, like I always do.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Timber, I'm Falling in Love ~ Patty Loveless


This was one of my favorite songs a couple of years ago, and every night I would listen late to the Old Country station up in Missouri (whose digits I can't remember right now) hoping that they would play it. Every once in a blue moon the New Country stations: Kix 104 (which on my radio came in better on 103.9) or Sam 98.3 would play it and I would be ecstatic.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

About Us

Gazing into your eyes
It’s easy for me to believe
You’d never leave me

But I’ve already know
You’re a night wanderer
Keeping to the shadows

Keep away from me
You’re no good for me
I’m no good for you

But somehow
Neither one of us cares

I’m starring into a mirror
Wondering how things got this far

I go to work
I play the game
I pretend to know the rules

Thank God no one knows
About you.

Looking at me, look at you
With sparkling eyes
You know this will never last

But this infatuation that we feel
Can’t just be switched off
And we both wouldn’t if we could…

I’m standing in the light
The center of the public’s eyes
You know you can’t follow me there

May be that’s why
you’re still here.

You stare into the mirror
And wonder how things got this far

You go to work
You play the game
You act like you know the rules

And thank God no one knows
About me.

I’m a CPA,
you’re in a band
This mixed combination will never last

But we’re still here
With one another
There is no other to come between us.

We don’t know how long
we couldn’t last
Without the other.

Maybe
Not at all.

We stare into the mirror
And wonder how things got this far

We go to work
We play the game
We act like we know the rules

And thank God no one knows
About us.

About us.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

My Puppy

Whenever I’m feeling like the entire world doesn’t understand me, or I think there is something wrong with me, I confide in my dog. He always makes me feel better. He still wiggles and waggles the same way he did when he was a puppy, which is really comical because he’s so big now.
He still loves to rub up against me; it almost makes me fall down. I keep telling him not to do that, one of these days he’s going to land me on my ass, but he doesn’t care, he just wants to be close to me. It’s sooo sweet!!
I still adore him just as much as I did when he was smaller than our little dog: Tippy; now if he stands on his hind legs he can kiss me on the mouth, though I’ve told him not to do that, ‘cause he’s a dog and that’s grows. I love, love, love, love him!
He likes to sleep beneath my bedroom window, so if the window is open and I’m listening to songs on my computer I can hear him sigh. These sighs are superbly timed, they always occur every time an angry rock song ends, then I play something softer, and I don’t get any comments from the doggy peanut gallery. I guess he doesn’t care for screaming and guitar solos.
So, I love him, he loves me, and all is right with the world!
Merlin, my puppy!

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Rebecca

Standing by the edge of hope
Of the precipice divine
We two walk a tight rope
For love so hard to define.
 
My Becky grasps my hand
Through the ridicules that measures in hours
Never alone shall I stand
No one can break this love of ours.
 
They say we are unnatural
They declare us unclean
God’s word is factual
What we are is obscene.
 
Within my heart there lies
The ever growing truth
If this feeling for Becky I must despise
Than pardon me, for being uncouth,
 
But I’d rather be crucified
Then walk away from her
For there would be no way to justify
Walking away from her.
 
We’re not the true issue of your debate
I don’t think we’re that different
We feel pain, fear, and hate
All the joys of Earth we too appreciate,
 
So what is your hate in us
What is it that you fear?
If you’re reasons are true and just
You may speak plainly here.
 
You have no new answer?
No reason behind your claim
Well then my dear pastor
Who is it I should put the blame
 
Of all the stones thrown
And taunts yelled
For the feelings that are my own?
Who has taught all others that we shall be repelled?
 
Return the subject back to God
The unseen Father we must adore,
I do not believe it is the will of God
To give me this love, so I maybe hurt more.
Now my life is filled with sorrow
No epitaph shall cover the feelings abound
That I feel at never seeing Becky on the morrow
For she, a love so sweet, never another be found.
 
My heartaches for my Becky
To see her smile once more
None felt the pain, more than my Becky
Every shout and cry left her feeling sore.
 
Until the grief was too great
And she lost her sweet smile
The ill words left her in such a state
Yet she hid it from me all the while.
 
No one will tell me how she died
They say it’s not my business
For many an hour I have cried
For wondering how Becky called for Death’s kiss.
 
No one informed me of the funeral
I discovered it alone
So now I stand before you all
Here I stand alone
 
No one will take my hand
No one will dry my tears
Here alone I stand
As I will for coming years.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

You Were Mine ~ Dixie Chicks


I have always loved the Dixie Chicks, and I grew up listening to this song, so I figured it was about time I posted it!

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

The Proposal

Kelton paced back and forth, his light elfin feet didn’t so much as bend any of the virid undergrowth. He was waiting for Yastley to meet him. Elfin folk of the West were always punctual, following the clock of the sun, Yastley however was of the East, and they tended to be a more free flowing people, saying that “they’d get there when they get there and if the appointment was important enough to make, than it was important enough to wait for everyone one (namely themselves) to show up.”
Yastley scampered into the small clearing, her long carrot colored hair streaming behind her. As she came to a gentle stop, the only thing that kept her long locks from falling around her face was the fact that it was tied in the back with two ties as was the way of the East.
“You wished to speak to me Kelton?” Yastley asked, not bothering with a salutation to get straight to the point.
Kelton resisted a small smile, Yastley was so much like the rest of her brand of elf in so many ways: her comparatively tall stature, red hair, almond shaped green eyes, abundant freckles, and a proneness for being tardy, but at the same time she was unlike them too. Her somber tone and face Kelton had never at anytime seen on any other Easterner. Her manor was abrupt in a way that could be taken as rude, regular Easterners are known for being overly hospitable. Most of all, Easterners were reputed with the ability to empathize with anyone at anytime, while Yastley became disgruntled and uncomfortable whenever anyone came to her with their emotional woes.
“Yes, I did,” Kelton replied, “I wanted to ask you something.”
“If you need advice on your love life, you’d be better off with a Northerner.” She said bluntly, her body language changed ever so subtly as she leaned away from Kelton, ready to leave. (Northern elves were all involved with their work, and were the least social of all the elves, rarely did they ever leave their beloved mountains for any gathering of any kind, even during times of trouble. They found the “soul searching” of the Easterners a complete waste of time. Suffice it to say the North and East never truly saw eye to eye, though the East never considered themselves to be any one’s foe, they merely looked upon the North as the estranged cousin who was difficult to understand.)
“I’m not here for advice,” Kelton said, he tried to swallow down his nervousness. His emotions had been twisting inside of him like a wild horse, refusing to be broken.
“Oh?” She inquired, her eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch; obviously his inner strife had made itself apparent across his face.
“Yes, I would like to court you Yastley,” it was utterly unromantic and must have been an embarrassment to the Romanics of the East, but his prepared speech which he had been reciting while he paced had left him the moment Yastley stepped into the clearing.
“This is highly irregular,” she said after a barely noticeable pause. In which her face had turned to what would have been the perfect poker face, if it weren’t for the slight darkening of the naturally pink color of her cheeks.
“Yes, I know,” he tried to rush into some sort of explanation, but lost the words in his hurry and she cut him off before he could begin again.
“We would need permission from both councils, and not to mention, you would need to approach my father, and invite me to meet your parents. This is so unusual a notion that we will have to do everything to protocol to avoid a scandal.”
Kelton couldn’t believe his ears.
“You mean to say,” Kelton said “that you are willing to entertain the idea of a courtship between…you and I?”
“Yes, of course, though I must say you went about it the wrong way.” Yastley said calmly, though her blush deepened.
“I thought there wasn’t a wrong way to begin to love,” Kelton replied, he was quoting the Eastern representative in the West court.
“Only fools who don’t mind their lives ending in tragedy and the more tragic the more romantic the tale. I have no intention of taking part in a relationship that will end in banishment, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now the first thing to do is for each of us to see our local councilman and get an approval, now you go to mine and I’ll go to yours, and don’t you dare leave until you get it in writing.” Yastley paused. “What are you waiting for, go.”
“Don’t I need to make an appointment?” Kelton asked.
“He’s an Easterner Kelton; you just need to find him.”
“Alright,” he turned to leave the clearing. This wasn’t going the way he had planned, but at least, she hadn’t said no.
“Oh, wait, I almost forgot.” She caught his sleeve as he walked by her. He turned and she put her arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth.
Clanging bells went off in Kelton’s head, and his ears were still ringing when the two of them parted.
“There, now my mother can stop worrying about me,” Yastley said, evidently proud of herself.
“What?” he asked confused.
“I’ve finally kissed a boy, now maybe she’ll let me get some peace and quiet. Bye-bye,” she said before running out of the clearing, “see you back here later.” She called over her shoulder before she vanished between the trees.
Kelton headed out of the clearing and towards Easterner’s home by the ocean. Once he cleared his head he started to laugh quietly to himself. If this was any sign on how the relationship was going to go, then he was glad he asked.

Monday, June 13, 2011

The Wedding



The event in this video happened after one of my longest standing friends, Abby just got married. After the ceremony we, the guests were told to stand on the patio, shortest in front, tallest in back for a picture, and we more or less listened. The bride and groom came outside and we and the bride were surprised when the groom left the bride on the patio and started to dance along with the bridesmaids and groomsmen and others. Abby is a dancer, so this was the best surprise for her.
  At 2:50 you can see me to the far right. I'm wearing a floppy white hat and I'm behind and between the guy with the tuxedo and glasses, and the woman with a dark patterned dress and sunglasses.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

The Raven - I Adore You

Today was very exciting. I went to a public speaking contest early this morning (a few minutes past eight o’clock). At the moment of arrival I realized that I didn’t have “The Raven and other poems" by Edgar Allen Poe with me, which was the book I was going to be reading out of for my interpretive reading. (How the interpretive reading category works is you pick a selection from a book of your choice, and you have an introduction of the selection you’re about to read and then a closing statement.) So, my older brother rushed it over, which was really sweet of him, I know he wasn’t planning on getting up that morning, so I ruined that pretty thoroughly.  
 
  When it was finally my turn to go up I opened with the following words to the judges: “I’m going to be doing quite a bit of acting: I’m going to be pretending I’m awake.” I wish I could say their laughter helped me from being too nervous, though I’m really glad they did laugh, because that would have been really awkward. I’ve had the awful experience of telling a joke in front of an audience and being met with silence, it’s not something you want to happen to you, let me tell you that.

  After I was about halfway through the poem I started to get lost in Poe’s wonderful writing and I calmed down, and had fun. I didn’t really practice the closure to my interpretive reading, however, I didn’t tell the judges and they didn’t need to know.

   Amazingly enough, I won the gold award in my category… It just shows that "The Raven" really is great... Shit, now I have to get ready for State next week; I might actually need to practice for that.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Breakdowns

Sometimes when things in your life are compounding themselves on top of you, you need to make sure that they don’t start to pile up inside you too. Eventually your suppressed feelings will break out of you and spill all over the place – which is my colorful way of saying: “you’re having a breakdown babe”.

  Crying, screaming, and yelling are often the symptoms of a breakdown, but they can also help prevent you from having a breakdown. I know, it sounds counterintuitive, but I find it to be true. But these mini breakdowns or what not are actually healthier than letting them build up to the real deal.

  Also when you breakdown, you are not in control of what your breakdown will be about, and it can be over something stupid, and may have only the slightest connection (or no connection) to what your breakdown is really about. It’s better to have the little breakdowns that you can control when and where they will happen, than just snapping at that last straw that broke the camel’s back.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Sunshine

“I find I'm more creatively inclined when the sun is shining”~ Samantha Blackwell (Taken from my 5/17/11facebook status.
Why I'm bring up the subject of sunshine is because today I am being deprived of it by the clouds (greedy, can’t they share! There’s plenty of sun for everyone, if they’d just get out of the way then we all could enjoy it. Sometimes the clouds remind me of those annoying people at the beach who stand right in your sun shine. There is a whole beach for you to be standing in, why’d you pick right there!?)
My loss of sun is the reason my post is so late. Everything seems to take longer when the sun is absent in my life. It's as if my body is preserving energy in semi-hibernation. Whatever it is, it all goes back to: no sun.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Poems by Emily Dickinson

I have been keeping a small book of Emily Dickinson’s poetry by my computer: I read a bit while I’m waiting of something to load up, and I’ve come to find that I can read the exact same poem on two different days and sometimes I can understand what she is

trying to say better than other times. I think it has everything to do with my mood. If the poem is subtly rebellious to the higher order of things and I am in a similar state of mind I will pick up her meaning a lot better than if I were at peace with the world and was trying to read the same poem, in which case I will have trouble understanding its meaning.

  To write poetry that is entirely written with raw emotion through symbolism is an incredibly difficult task (I know because I’ve tried). While poets sometimes frustrate me “Why can’t they just say what they mean straight out instead of using ridiculous, and overly decorated and exaggerated innuendos?” However I do recognize that reading and writing such poetry does exercise one’s mind, and expands one’s vocabulary as well.

  So, I shall keep Emily Dickinson beside my computer, besides it’s a good way to spend the time as pointless and life sucking advertisements load onto my server screen.