Thursday, January 21, 2016

Aidas

Recently looking through my poetry from college, I've realized how much I dislike the "worked" "edited" and "polished" versions of my originals. I like how raw they are in the beginning, and for me and my writing style, I feel that normally the first writing best describes my feelings. If I can better the poem without altering the feelings conveyed, great. If not, best leave it as originally written. Until I become a pro at workshopping it, writing it, re-writing it, re-writing it, and then liking what I have produced, I'll stick with the ones I like. The originals. This was written when Aida, my first girl, was just a few months old. Aida is a type of canna lily. I was feeling secluded from the life and freedoms I had previously had, but no feeling can beat out the love for your kiddo :)

Aidas

Nothing has changed,
yet.
Same lack of desire, thrill---
I am a light-bulb flickering out.
Nightly cries are alarms
repeatedly beep
beep
b e e p i n g,
reminding me of
what is gone, telling me 
something's missing.
I get a knot in my chest.


Night leaves every day
and the thick, warm sunshine reminds me
that time will bring growing,
leaving,
missing.

She smells like nature after
having endured a beating rainstorm---
fresh.
And just breathing her in
relieves this knot in my chest.