Swing of Gold

By: Poetic Leanne

Please swing high, my swing of gold; the best gift which I behold.

As dawn calls dusk, and darkness falls, know that time never stalls.

Upswing high, downswing low, you shape each story ever told,

Since life first burst through the walls, broken by spring waterfalls.

Summer breezes kiss my face as time spirits like it's a race,

While flames flicker and passions fly, my red brush paints the sky,

And my gold swing picks up pace; swinging me to outer space,

Watching the world so high, this memory will never die.

Swing of gold, what can I do... Your color's another hue.

Swing once gold, you're slowing down; I can almost touch the ground.

As leaves hold on, although past due, the world is changing too,

For nature no longer jumps abound; I barely hear a sound.

Winter freezes time and it's about time for me to go,

As the wind erases the footprints I made in the snow.

The Scariest Poem Ever Told

By: Poetic Leanne

I've heard stories of ghouls, blood, vampires, and the list grows,

But nothing compares to the fright which I'm about the pose.

It's not supernatural but still scary, in a way...

This frightening tale is about the day you'll go away.

The demons will intrude my house and bloody my white blouse,

Sucking the life right out of me like a blood-sucking louse,

And the Devil will take his knife and slice open my throat,

And then he'll steal my heart and send it to some place remote.

And as twilight arrives, the werewolves will come out to play,

And I will transform into a beast for I'll be their prey,

And forever I shall roam the dreary night, forsaken,

All because, when you left me, my heart was also taken.

But will I really have visitors, will they really show,

Or will it all just be an illusion born from all my woe?

I wasn't sure what I should do for my second posting, so I ended up writing a couple of sonnets. This probably won't be the last sonnet you will see from me being I highly enjoy the sonnet style. The first sonnet was an Elizabethan style sonnet: 14 lines,  abab cdcd efef gg rhyme, and in iambic pentameter (for the most part). I also had 14 syllables per line. Honestly, I was trying to do a Shakespearean style sonnet, but I forgot that he used 10 syllables per line, as opposed to my 14. I don't believe the second sonnet has a stylistic name and so it's just a sonnet. The two sonnets are not meant to be as a series so don't be confused with their variance in subject matter. They are just two separate sonnets.

Monotony

Breathe in, breathe out

And don't bother look about;

It's just another city street,

Just another state sign,

Just another place to eat,

Just another dotted line...

Just another light post

Illuminating the face of another ghost.

Just pass on by, and pass and pass,

And never take the time to ask:

"How's it goin'" or "What's yer name"

"Hey what'cha readin'" or anything.

And don't spy on what they're wearing

Nor gaze upon their eyes

Just stare straight, hands in pockets,

And pass on by, by, by.

Just let them pass

Be it walk, run, float;

They're all the same...

So don't take note.

Just simply

Breathe in, breathe out

And believe

This is all that life's about.

Or is it?

Okay so, not one of my best poems, but by no means my worst. I can't seem to garner my thoughts in an effective way today. So enjoy my jumble of words.

Anyways, this poem was written in response to "This is water" by David Foster Wallace. In my poem I use rhyme in order to parallel the repetitious life which Wallace describes in "This is water" with the repetition of phonetics. In some lines I also repeat words or even an entire line in order to add a sense of monotony, which is also the title of my poem (I recognize the title is a bit cliché). The poem shows how we narrow our view of our surroundings in the heat of our bustling day to day lives. We don't stop on our way to work to see the glimmer in a child's eyes as he listens to his grandfather tell a great story about the time he had first met his lovely, now elderly wife, who stands to the side and blushes softly with a gentle smile worn upon her lips. Most of us will miss this occasion because we are too busy hustling and bustling to really become engaged with our surroundings. We assume that we are stuck in the same routine day in and day out, but are we? That choice, yes choice, is up to us. We are the ones in control over how involved we are with our surroundings. We get to determine how different one day is in comparison to the next. If you like living the same monotonous day, every day, then keep your eye shutters on, your ear plugs in, and your mind closed, but if you are like me and would prefer to learn, experience, change, and grow each day, then remove all that restricts your senses and really tune in to what is around you. You can't deny, there is a certain beauty in the smile of a complete stranger, or in the reflections cast upon the eyes of the people you pass by. Life doesn't have to be an endless road to sameness. You can adjust your observation levels to discover as many day to day differences and beauties as you'd like to find. As Wallace says, it is our choice. It's just a choice we need to be tame. A choice we need to come to grip with. A choice that will involve hard work and determination. But ultimately, a choice that will be worth it.