Water, Tree, and Fire (a haiku):
This poem was written probably sometime in 1993, for a class assignment. It is interesting, and I have re-used it at least two other times for class assignments. I really don't know what it means. If you have any clue, please tell me. The words just poured out of my mind, through my hands, and onto paper. They just sounded cool. (And yes, I know that the last line is 6 syllables but should be 5. I just couldn't come up with a way to express the same thought in 5 syllables and still have it sound that poetic).
What Time is It?:
Ok. So this isn't exactly a poem. It is a creative endeavour, however. It was written after about the 10th person in about 30 minutes had asked me "What time is it?" Why can't they buy their own damn watch?!? It is constantly under modification, as I find more moron-mind-blowing big words to put into it.
This poem was written after a two-year poetic slump, in 1995. It was written directly after a woman who, at the time, I was romantically enamored with suggested I use a candle as inspiration for poetry. I did, and this was the result. The part about the souls on the fingers of Satan is a reference to a piece of vivid imagery in a role-playing game, in an adventure written by a friend of mine. Beyond that, I'm not totally sure what it means.
This piece was written about 5 minutes after "The Candle". I was suddenly randomly inspired to write something like this. I have been told (and agree with the observation) that it sounds like a scientist attempting to write poetry. I don't think there is much room for interpretation, and it was meant quite literally when I wrote it.
After I wrote "Creation", I turned off my computer and went to bed. About 20 minutes later, before I had fallen asleep, I was suddenly inspired to write this, and jumped out of bed to do so. I was feeling a little depressed, and this poem amplified the depression. The imagery is powerful, but, again, there is not much room for non-literal interpretation.
Something said in a conversation on IRC inspired this poem. Someone had said that they hid their face in shame (it was over something like spelling a name wrong - nothing serious). The response, by someone else, was that they "find [person #1's] face, and pull it out". I was immediately inspired, and wrote this poem in the course of about 5-10 minutes. I was not depressed at all when I wrote it, or afterwards. Only after I read the poem out to the people I was talking to on IRC did I realize that it was rather depressing. The line about "they were right / you never hear the sound" is in reference to the fact that because bullets move faster than sound, "you never hear the one that gets you". There are some vague references to my life, and the fact that my 3 best friends had recently all just moved away to college was involved.
I am a Nerd:
This one was written over the course of several hours. Not all of this happened to me, although some did. I took all of the stereotypical images of what happens to a nerd, and threw them on paper (screen). It is an angry poem, reminding me a bit of Alanis Morissette songs. The anger is justified, however, as anyone that has ever been a nerd knows. It is pretty literal.
This and "Breathe the Night" were inspired at the same moment. I was talking a walk down a country road in the dark with my good friend. These two poems are two halves of the same inspiration. I cannibalized part of "The Road" for use in "Breathe the Night", so it is not as it originally was. "The Road" is one of those poems that I have no clue what it really means. The words just flowed. I welcome any and all interpretations. There are a couple areas where it can be seemingly self-contradictory, but that is part of the point.
Breathe the Night:
This is more of a reflection of personal philosophy. I pretty much know what it means, at least on the surface. Deep interpretation is welcomed. I really like the deep imagery it evokes in my mind. It is a very emotional, powerful poem (to me, at least).
My Life is a Quentin Tarantino Movie:
This poem was actually inspired before "The Road" and "Breathe the Night", but it wasn't actually written until after they were. It is a response to the chaotic, weird, and intertwined existence that I lead. Im not really sure what the last two lines mean. It is probably an ironic reference to the weirdness of my mind. It's not nearly as good a poem as I wanted it to be.
This poem was lost for a long time, and recently found. I had originally considered it unfinished, but have decided to put it up for completeness' sake. It's not terribly good, but it's probably the only poem I've written where I made a concerted effort to rhyme.
I Miss The Moon Sometimes:
This is my first creative effort in over a year, and I'm quite proud of it. It's about a girl I knew, and, unfortunately, loved. Those of you who know tarot cards, and know a bit about her or her type, should get the reference of calling her the moon. I think the other references and images are self-explanatory. This poem actually helped a lot with the healing process of finally getting over her, even though its been months since that fateful time.
This is another poem, written much later, about the girl from I Miss the Moon Sometimes. It was thrown together on one of those magnetic poetry kits on a friend's refrigerator. For a magnetic poetry kit poem, I think it's pretty good. The title came months after when I finally decided to put it online.
For those of you not familiar with Greek mythology, I should explain the title of this poem first. There was this story about a woman named Cassandra, who was blessed with the power of precognitive foresight, but cursed with the inability to affect the future even with this knowledge. In my own life, I often predict bad things are going to happen, but noone heeds my warnings, sometimes least of all myself. I have taken to using the name Cassander to describe myself, which is, to my ears, the best modifiction of Cassandra to a male name. The poem was written after a rather painful event in my life, and sort of speaks for itself. Any part of it that doesn't speak for itself, I'd rather not discuss in a public forum.
This poem was written under the working title "Stress", and I contemplated the title "These Friends I Keep" before finally settling on it's current title. Everything in it is true, and currently happening at the time of it's writing. The stressors aren't written in any particular order, just the order they came to me (so don't try to judge their magnitued/importance to me by which one is first). Also, there are a couple lucky people that have more than one stanza about them. Most of these are people that I care about a great deal, for one reason or another.
Tell me what you think!