2005-11-16 - 4:51 p.m.

So the following is my poem I just submitted to my poetry class for critique. I was a wreck about this submitting poem thing because it's been a REALLY long time since I have written a poem. I mean, REALLY long time and I just don't think I had it in my anymore. So I called my mom and asked her to e-mail me a copy of that stupid poem I won that contest with a long time ago. I justified "cheating" by telling myself that I was curious what people who study poety thought about it. However, my mom sent it to me and I was mortified by it and started to try to fix it and I got all upset and freaked out because the assignment was due in five hours and I had NOTHING. NOTHING. So I was just sitting there, thinking about how freaked out I am about the soon coming flight to Vienna and not more than two minutes later I had written a poem. A WHOLE poem and for some reason I love it. I don't know it if it is "good" poetry or not and I really don't care. I am just totally enthralled with the way it all happened and how all of a sudden I had a poem that made me chuckle. it is...because I just want to share it for whatever reason. I am not sharing that awfulness of poem that I won that contest for.

Taking Flight

It's become an art
This fear of flying thing.
Gathering provisions in the seat back,
Tiny bottles of wine you procure before takeoff
Mindless magazines
Chocolate, mints and lip balm.
On the lap go the trinkets,
A cherished stone,
A worn stuffed animal from babyhood and
You wear every piece of jewelry you own
In case the one you leave behind is the lucky one.

Your nose is pressed to the window
Watching for suspicious anything outside.
A small wing fire,
A lurking person,
Fuel spills,
Flocks of birds,

You saw the Northern Lights from the sky once
And swore that it was worth death to see that
Most private and humbling show from above the clouds.
But you've forgotten that now
And you've resorted to praying
To a God you don't even believe in
That the plane won't fall
And you will live to see
Day change it's name.

SEE! That's SO cool. A poem written in two minutes. And it isn't bad at all!

Today I have spent the majority of my time trying to clean up our rain ruined yard. It's such a fucking mess and everything smells like snails, mushrooms and onions (when I mowed the lawn a month ago I smelled onions really, really strongly and we found out that we have actual ONIONS growing in our lawn...they are this weird Spanish onion thing and I can't remember the name of them right now but anyway, somehow they started sprouting up here and there in the yard and they STINK). It's really gross out there. I am all muddy and I smell like snails now too. I think I managed to make some progress and I wish I could mow the lawn before our guests start arriving but it's just too soggy.


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