I took a picture of Timothy’s wood sketched signature years later…
This is my poetry blog.
I’m doing this to realize who I am or maybe who I was. I’ve lost sight of a lot of things these past few years. I hope to learn how to see those things again.
I wrote In Mood Cupfuls while in college. I had just spent Halloween alone for the first time in my life and I had no one to call. I was just realizing how much alone we all actually are in the world. The feeling was strange for me. I’ve come to enjoy it.
Timothy was my first flirtation with apocalyptic themes. I love the thought of zombies and deserted cities.
I don’t remember writing On Immortality but I know I did. Yes, the last sentence is very cliche but damnit, it works for me.
The three poems seem to belong together not only due to their length but also because of the way they feel…
A FESTIVAL OF SECONDS
IN MOOD CUPFULS
The hot chocolate decides to burn my throat
as my eyes look to the mantle to see
spaces strange filled all about me
with empty cubicles echoing that,
“without you here so little is hope.”
“Without you here so little is hope.”
Then the hot chocolate remembers and again burns my throat…
/TI’-ME-THE/
timothy was here
i can feel his presence
no form but black dust now stands
timothy i fear
you’ve taught us a lesson
god gives rewards for the stupidity of man
ON IMMORTALITY
A very precarious situation.
A stick swept away by the tide.
I cry for a second
but except no fold
for I know even Evergreens must die.
© 2009 by Feral Child
Marinela said,
January 28, 2010 at 1:49 am
really nice