Poetry Submission

It's Spring
Originally uploaded by courtneeyday

I'm taking a creative writing class and my pieces have to be workshopped. I was really uncomfortable with this at first but have yet to have a negative experience. Some people have actual constructive things to say while others just say "it was good". All in all I'm really liking this class.
However, the poetry submissions were today and I gave myself very little time to write my poems. I procrastinated...but not purposefully...I just didn't feel overly inspired to write this week. Or play music. Which is just a drag. I'm feeling the passion come back though, it's coming.
Anyway...I was nervous. I managed to crank out a fresh new poem (which I wasn't overly thrilled with nor did I know how it would be received...) and I expanded my song, "Paper Bag", which I retitled "Truth in Lies" for this project. I wasn't confident or comfortable with either, but oh well...it's not a "failing" class. As long as I submit something at all I will get a good grade. Actually the submissions aren't even "graded" per say...It's rad.
So I was sitting in class waiting to hear who was in my group. I was really hoping I didn't get this one guy in my group. He's kind of edgy and I'm intimidated by him. He went to my old high school and he'd always been kind of a "cool" kid who probably had deep thoughts and an intense writing style. He was in my group and I was sweating the whole time.
We all read through eachother's poems and his were the ones that took the most time to read and pick apart and they were good, a little cryptic, and I enjoyed them. And all the while I was thinking, wow, he must think my pieces are junk.
We started discussing them and we went over his pieces first and I unraveled it just how he intended, which was good to know, because it did take me a few minutes to figure out. I don't think anyone else in our group really understood it. I'm not sure he really understood what he wrote haha.
We finally got to my poems and he was the first to speak saying I was a great writer and that he just wanted to keep reading them over and over and I always intimidated him when I spoke up in class when we pick apart poetry because he feels like an idiot for not knowing anything in this class. Hah! I was worried over nothing. He is not who I thought he was and that's awesome. I think I do this a lot with people--previously steriotype them when I have no real need to worry about what they're thinking of me. I like this guy, it turns out. He's a nice fellow and down to earth. Well, of what I saw today.
I wonder what people think of me. Like he thinks I'm some literary genius because I speak up about what I think things mean in class and I point out details in people's writings I like and don't like...but that's just opinion based. I'm not educated in this (yet) so my thoughts on it hold very little. But here I had these preconceived notions about him and he doesn't even speak.
I wish I could get into people's heads sometimes.

Anyway, these are my poems, if you'd like to read them:

I Helped.

We sat on the itchy carpet here,
17 years ago in this same living
room now changed by age.
I helped you learn to breathe
every third stroke so you wouldn’t
hyperventilate.

Blow out, 1, 2
breathe in deep, 3.
Reach farther, pull deeper, pretend
you’re cutting through the water like a champion.

We sit here now, 8:30 at night,
but it’s a different we.
She looks just like you,
so small and fragile and full of
innocent life and she wants to learn
how to tumble and fly so I’m helping
her learn to land safely in my
arms.

I’ll spot you, trust me,
I’ll help you over the back bend.
You can do it.
Relax, have fun, pretend
You’re floating in the air.

You’re in the other room getting ahead,
filling out paper work cast in a shade of blue
from your computer screen.
You’re making calls to other people’s children all
grown up and in their business suits at
home at this hour still.
Maybe their mothers or fathers sat on their living
room carpets and taught them, too.

Reach farther, pull deeper, pretend
you’re cutting your way to the top
you’re cutting your way out of your
little childrens’ lives—the only ones who will ever accept
you just because you’re you.

I wish I would have taught you
how to
fly
instead.


Truth in Lies.

We’re all just a bunch
of wet,
brown,
paper bags,
trying to carry the weight
of the world.

We’re all just a bunch
of bright,
red,
bleeding hearts,
who cry out for sympathy
but “No thank you, we don’t need help”.

We’re all just a bunch
of writers,
cynics,
and criticizers,
who use words to judge and tear down,
using the pieces to build an altar to ourselves.


We’re all just a bunch
of eyes,
ears,
and minds,
that see, hear, believe anything we want them to
finding truth in our own lies.

What kind of life have we
been living?



P.S. I have been slightly obsessed this week with Patty Griffin (particularly Every Little Bit) and Natalie Merchant (particularly Wonder and Carnival). So great (:

P.P.S. Alexia Hunter will be my new apprentice for small group leadership and I am so stoked, God has blessed me with the perfect partner for this! It is going so well already, she's been leading worship for 3 weeks now and ah! it's great. Praise the Lord...she is well worth the wait!