Monday, April 25, 2011

A Poem: .Touch.

Also written the summer of '05. I was very angry when I was 17 and very lovesick. A lot of the things I wrote echoed that sentiment. Oh well, this is the last post and then I'm hitting up my leftover spaghetti casserole.

. Touch .
06.14.05

Simple, complex
full of passion and love
full of uncertainty
It means nothing 
to you
to me
it is everything
your kiss, your touch, your love
It gives me pain and sorry
a broken heart
it shatters my will to live
it picks me up when I am down
it makes me feel secure
A touch of love
          fire
A touch of hate
          intense
from you
given to me
I freely accept it
I lustfully long for it
I secretly despise it


© Jasmine S. Davis 2011

A Poem: #12

And because I'm in the an incredibly good mood, I've decided to post another poem. I also got of my lazy behind and grabbed my poem book. I wrote this poem the summer of 2005. Let's see, I was 17? I think. 2011-2005, take 6 years off 23....yeah I was 17. Seems like forever ago. Anyway, whenever I couldn't think of a title for a poem I just gave it a random number. So here it is:

# 12
06.15.05

Two holes
blank
tinted with color
black, blue, green, gray, brown
Windows, foggy
portals into the mind
paths into the body
passageways into the soul
Mirrors
Reflectors of images; emotions
fear, anxiety, happiness, joy,
frustration, anger
shift---Now searching
downcast---Now hiding
blank---Now expressionless
direct---Bold.

© Jasmine S. Davis 2011

A Poem: Words.

I said to myself about 3 weeks ago, when I stumbled upon a book of poetry I had packed up when I moved that I was going to publish them here on the blog and that was going to be my April thing. Well, that didn't happen. I got lazy and sat in front of my TV instead of at my computer. But I'm here now, fueled by the flames of my latest creative wind. I've been writing non-stop for the last four days on my latest novel endeavor. A sequel to the book I started around Christmas. I feel so good about it. I feel so good about writing. I've encouraged myself that this is what I truly want to be doing. Sharing my imagination with the rest of the world. But for me, the easy part is having an awesome idea, and starting the book or the short story or the whatever. The hard part is actually finishing it. I read some article that said that was a common norm amongst Aries. I refuse to let myself fall into that category.

So, when I came home from work today, I had every intention of going to my book. I'd been thinking of new plot twists all day at work. But what did I do when I came home? I pulled out my laptop, I got my jump drive, and when I prepared to write, I didn't go to my book. I got bit by a different strain of the creativity bug and I did something I rarely do because it's so hard for me. I sat down a wrote a poem. In about 10 minutes mind you. I've never been more proud of myself. To start and finish something from my creative/artistic/literal side, that's a major accomplishment. And now I'm going to share. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you....

Words.

Some people will never amount to much,
Constantly sputtering excuses they use as their crutch

Tales and woes, wishes of things to be better
Viewing life as a negative, always and ever

But that’s not me,
Oh no, no sir, no ma’am
I refuse to life my life failing to achieve my master plan

I envision a future, bright and free
Where I can do my own thing and not worry about the green

A life full of peace, happiness and love,
A grand horizon I seek to reach up above

So many things I want to be
All facets and aspects and pieces of me
                A teacher, a healer, a  friend, a writer
                A mother, an Activist, a peacemaker, a fighter
                                                                      Amongst countless other dreams…

You see,
A life of complacency would be like darkness
Perpetual, never-ending and bleak.
Just thinking about that makes me want to shriek.

I could never allow myself to be so content
Passing the time pondering what to lament

Words are a gift, an expression of character,
Not disjointed things to fill a page
No,
                You are the messenger.
Use them.           Create.

Speak words of praise, criticism, dreams and vitality
Ingrain them within your soul,
Feed your spirit.
                Dare to accomplish it.

Then when you happen upon those who won’t amount to much,
And they begin to lament and feel the need to explain their crutch,
Smile,
For you will never be as such.


© Jasmine S. Davis 2011