Looking Back on My Poems

I was going through my Documents folder on my computer (I have nothing to do, and I am beyond bored), and I decided to reread my poetry. And I have to say that my favorites are my deeply melancholy ones. While I love the flowery prose of Keats and Neruda, I also love melancholic poems about despair and loneliness. And it seems that when I get the inspiration for writing poetry, I am usually depressed about something. If I were able to write poetry when Robb Stark was murdered in Game of Thrones, I would have.

Among my favorite poems (by me):

  1. This poem, which apparently popped into my head one night. I am pretty sure I was just feeling sad that I wasn’t dating anybody when I thought of it. Every line of the poem cries despair, and it’s just so bleak and depressing. But, I am also biased, since I wrote it.
  2. Fade to Black, which was written for a blogger whose heart had been broken by this charismatic man. I incorporated my feelings for Ryan towards the end of the poem, around the part where the fog quote occurs. NOTE: these feelings are in the past, and I no longer have them. I just have incredible recall.
  3. Lonesome One, which I wrote the day after my 29th birthday. I don’t know where my head was at that point, but I am sure I spent too much time out in the backyard of the house I used to live in, by the pool. That pool always made me lonely; because I acquaint pools with Romeo + Juliet, and I always want to swim around with someone I am attracted to. Yes, you can blame the eternal 13-year-old that resides within me, among other ages of myself.

As for April and National Poetry Month, I am working on finding poems. I am grateful I am taking this Nature Writers class, even if my professor is not the nicest, because I have a long list of poems I can use (although, no Frost–he just irks me). And if I am not bogged down with classes (since I will be taking  Math and Biology starting in March, and Math and a Fiction Writing Workshop in April), I might just write more poetry, since everyone seems to enjoy the melancholic things I pen.


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