Pontoum Crazy

My new favorite kind of poem. The repetition makes nearly anything beautiful and with deeper meaning. So fun to write. I love.

**Disclaimer. These poems aren't necessarily about me. Just people's stories I've heard, or books I've read, stuff like that. Don't worry yourself too much. :)

At Best

Inside your new black car
Our hands caught onto each other
Stilled breath and soft music
Best friends at best

Our hands caught onto each other
We laughed and cried and sang
Best friends at best
But I loved you more than that

We laughed and cried and sang
Breathing in the subtle smell of cigarettes
But I loved you more than that
Wondering what more could be

Breathing in the subtle smell of cigarettes
Inside your new black car
Wondering what more could be
Best friends at best.


Speak

Crimped hair and glue-on nails
A girl, not yet thirteen
holding onto her first red plastic cup
Taking only a few sips

A girl, not yet fifteen
Dancing freely, twirling freely
Taking only a few sips
"So this is what growing up feels like."

Dancing freely, twirling freely
He led her back behind the barn
"So this is what growing up feels like."
Stripping away her twelve year old innocence

He led her back behind the barn
Crimped hair and glue-on nails
Stripping away her fourteen year old innocence
Holding onto her first red plastic cup

Fluff.

Wouldn't it be lovely if everyone could speak exactly what they thought? No shame, no fluff, but instead simple straightforward statements and answers that nobody would interpret to mean something different than what it actually meant. Words would be parallel to thoughts.

I have a problem with overanalyzing what people say. They say they "had a good day" and suddenly they had a good day because they weren't with me, because they hate me, because they had a horrible day and don't want me to know, maybe they're laying in their death bed right at this moment, or maybe they had a GREAT day and don't want to freak me out too much, or their day was made better because I asked them about it. I wouldn't ever know because they're hidden by their masks of "good days" and "I'm fine"s.

This school year I made it a goal to say what I thought and to be completely honest. I think oftentimes people confuse being honest and blunt with being mean. If someone asks what I think, I will tell them, and I won't add fluff or sentences to be interpreted. How lovely would it be to hide nothing at all. How lovely would it be if when I asked someone how they felt, they would tell me the whole truth. Not part of it, nor only the parts I want to hear. Sincerity is hard to come by but when a person comes into my life with a genuinely honest and sincere personality I will fight to keep them close. It's those rare human beings that make this life worth analyzing.

What a lovely thought.

Sr Yr

How strange it is to have people you've seen come up to meet you.
I remember being a little sophomore looking up to the big bad seniors with large round adoring eyes. Even last year, I aspired to be just that one year older - one year cooler. They rode around on their high horses and talked of far away lands of college and the desire to finally cross the Sea of Growing Up. I wanted to be that senior, I wanted to be the person everybody knew. I wanted to taste a little bit of what the real world could be like.

Um, okay... no.

Senior year is awesome so far, but we're only a week in. Suddenly I am that "big bad senior" who most  people know by name because of my position as a Student Body Officer. It is so weird, and honestly a lot of pressure. I feel no where near "cool", and I want nothing to do with college and life. Just planning on having fun for now... and smiling a lot I guess.

So that's that. :)