Microphone

Herald of wonders,
baton of magic,
Black Mamba--
Amplification is key.

Showing what is true,
better off called
Rod of Truth.

All the glitz in the world
cannot hide
what is real,
what is beneath.

Making apparent
that which
has disappeared;
and uncovering
white rabbits
from hats.

The black head of snake,
poisnous,
will bite
unless you can charm him
with your
crooning voice.

Pantoum

The following poem is an example of a pantoum...(a type of form poetry with repeating lines)

The Great Burden of a Fishing Culture

Down by the docks you can buy fish:
fresh from the sea in their death.

Popping eyes,

and gaping mouths.

Fresh from the sea in their death,
sailors are pulled one by one.
And gaping mouths
cover the faces of horrified morning fish shoppers.

Sailors are pulled one by one
from the sea that stole their lives.
Covering the faces of the horrified morning fish shoppers:
the words "storm" and "shipwreck", like a headline.

From the sea that stole their lives,
the sailors had once inherited happiness.
The words "storm" and shipwreck", like a headline,
are shouted throuout the village.

The sailors had once inherited happiness.
Now their great irony is
shouted throught the village.
Who is missing?

Now, their great irony is
that what the sailors loved, killed them.
Who is missing?
What is missing?

That what the sailors loved killed them!
Popping eyes,
what is missing?
Down by the docks you can buy fish.

Driving Around with my Jersey Crazy Father

***I almost had a seizure just now. For some reason whatever I typed was being translated into Hindi.***
**How unfortunate that I have no friends who speak Hindi (or Kannada, Malayalam, Tamil, or Telugu).**

The other night while driving north along Highway 51 in Wausau, I had one of those rare moments. You know, when you're listening to music really loud and you're watching the dashed line in the middle of the road go by and you suddenly realize that the dashes are appearing and disappearing in time to the music. I love little moments like that. It's almost as if the things around you are listening to the music as well. In that moment, you and those nondescript dashes that seem to have nothing to do with you except when deciding to go out on a limb and pass someone, you and those dashes have something in common: the beat of the music, the moment.

Now, it might sound wierd, I know. But seriously...it's the little things or events in life like this that make it all so wonderful. Like watching the couple in the corner booth at lunch quickly getting annoyed with each other. What entertainment to watch the entire situation go from bad to worse, and the only sign of it being the posture and the speed at which the girl and boy eat their food! (not that I take pleasure in negative things) Let me see if I can think of a better example to illustrate my point...

Oh...here's one: Seeing the footprints of my cat across the garage door. Any sane person looking at it would spend a considerable amount of time pondering just how a cat managed to walk sideways across a smooth garage door. Yet I have noticed that when the door is up and open, our cat likes to jump up on the banister of our stairs and nimbly hop onto the door. What he does up there, I could not tell you. But it always makes me smile when the door is down and I see those little paw prints across the door.

I just think its sad how so many people BLOW through life completely missing the small, ironic details that abound and surround them. God has such a sense of humor...you see it everywhere. I feel the things that are, in a way, hidden are far more beautiful then the blindingly obvious sunset or the conveniently spotted flower in a garden.

So for now, let us consider the small things. Take note, and appreciate. And remember: అ సీర్చింగ్ విల్ అండ్ కీన్ ఏయే రేవేఅల్ వొందెర్ఫుల్ థింగ్స్ తో తేఇర్ ఓనరు!

The Color of Hunger

The color of hunger is clear.
Hunger is synonymous with the word empty.
Clear is empty of color,
and hunger is empty of something essential.
For some, hunger is something of the everyday.
For others, it comes in spurts
which in some cases,
makes it all the more painful.

Fin? I think not!

Wow...a blog. Would it be correct in saying that I feel Metropolitan??? I'm not even sure what that REALLY means...so maybe I shouldn't say it. Perhaps...sophisticated is what I'm going for??? I'm not sure...but whatever I feel, a new blog is exciting.

Moving into a new website is like moving into a new home. It's new and and you feel like you need to stretch and test the boundries; like you need to go and explore the cor ners. (I had to put a space in there because it looked like "comers")... Could there possibly be a secret doorway with a hidden tunnel somewhere? Or maybe...a panel that slides back and reveals a tin of old memories!... Yet as always, you explore, and the new house seems to be just as normal as all the others...but somehow you still love it, despite its unintrestingness. Besides, if we didn't have "normal" life, and everything was spectacularly like our imagined worlds, spectacular would become normal, and then where would we be?

Well anyway, as this is my FIRST blog, I feel as though I should somehow state my intentions for it...MAINLY???: I love to write. Love it, love it, love it. It's such a great excersize for me. And I like to share my writing with others. SO...here you can read everything from poetry to papers, from RANTS to commentaries, and from little thoughts to observations. Feel free to comment. Or don't comment... WHATEVER YOU FEEL THE NEED TO DO, DO IT. (within reason)...You can even criticize my writing and give pointers. Whatever. (: But mainly, this blog is for sharing my thoughts in a strictly informal way.

I hope you enjoy, Falling So Beautifully. Written on napkins, composed during class, and created in dreams...by Emily.