Good morning, faithful reader. I just want you to know that writing just about anything in the mornings is not my style. I'm quite the morning person, don't get me wrong. I love being outside in the cool morning air and getting a jump start on my unproductive days. But when it comes to writing, I just have no thoughts in my head in the mornings. Nothing strikes me as important to write about and I just don't typically do it. The reason I mention this is because upon reading Stephen King's "On Writing," I came across something interesting about his writing. I don't have the book in front of me, so i'm just going to paraphrase here, but basically he says that writing in the mornings is best for him because his mind feels fresh and it's breathing quite well. This struck me as interesting because I'd never REALLY thought about the correlation between the time of day and the way a person's brain functions. Once I realized this, It came clear that in the evenings, I have so many thoughts and passions than I do in the mornings. This became my designated writing time.
So why am I writing this at eight in the morning? Well, honestly, I'm really excited about this here blog, so like a school girl, I can't keep my hands off it. Wait, what? Forget it. Back to my main point: I'm writing this morning because i'm excited to get some of my older poetry up here for you to read. I got a few complaints for the last three poems being too sad and I noticed that there were a lot of grammatical and spelling mistakes. I'll try to work on that a little more so that you're paying more attenshun to that than me. Catch that typo? Yeah, alright you grammar Nazi, get a life. I'm kidding. Stop crying.
So, to go ahead and begin here, this first poem I wrote about a year ago. It's nothing too deep or too serious, simply to entertain. Enjoy. I call it
A Jelly Odyssey
I crawl out of bed like a zombie
The feeling in my stomach screams at me,
"Peanut butter and jelly!"
I walk into the kitchen half naked
The pantry door groans at me
I pull out the jar of peanut butter
Creamy of course.
I grab the bag of bread
My heart fills with joy
As I read Sarah's name.
My feet drag to the fridge,
Which opens with a burst of cold
The temperature could have been an idicator...
Because my gaze inside the container reveals--
An empty shell.
I pick up the jar that held the jelly
Grape jelly, my favorite.
First, disappointment creeps into my ears
Then sadness in my heart...
And then a terror drops to my feet.
Realization comes to me.
The realization of a compromise
A trade off
That may not be worth that sweet substance
But alas, I take up my shoes
And I exit the door
Wal-Mart awaits me.
The car rumbles to a stop
My eyes fearfully scan the parking lot
To my dismay, I see many feet
A hot sweat forms under my arms
And I take a deep breath.
A warrior plunging into the horde.
I open the door,
And put my foot on the pavement...
Fear captures me and I pull back inside
Closing the door.
I compose myself
In one swift motion--
I jump out of the car,
Lock it before closing the door,
A war scream exits my lungs...
I calmly walk through the door,
Though my hands feel clammy and cold.
I focus, scanning the signs in the aisles.
I turn down the sandwich aisle,
Wishing life could be more simple.
Avoiding a small child
Who won't look where he's going.
I find the section that has been tugging at my heart.
The jelly smiles at me from the shelf.
The variety is endless
So many colors! So many flavors!
An evil suddenly spills over me...
I stand for a minute,
Narrowing down the possibilities.
After the second minute,
The grape and the black-berry argue in my brain.
I begin speaking aloud,
"Grape, black-berry, grape, black-berry..."
A man in a wheel chair stares at me.
He thinks I don't notice him,
But my pores scream as his eyeballs cover my body.
I grap the closest jar of grape jelly
and make haste to the check-out lanes.
All of the lines contain five or more people
Frustration and anger boil inside of me.
I decide on the third lane,
The people seem to have less than others.
But as I get closer to the belt,
My blood yells at the cashier,
Her five inch nails move slowly over the buttons,
She sluggishly scans each of a bald man's items.
My leg moves impatiently,
But my stomach reminds me why i'm standing here.
At last my turn comes,
And I thank the Lord that I have only one item.
The woman unnecesarily reads me my total.
The same number that is displayed on the screen for my own viewing.
I force my hand into my pocket
To find the three dollars I need,
When a feeling of hopelessness
Comes over my body.
There is no money waiting in my pocket...
Tears well in my glands,
All is lost.
I sadly check the other pocket.
Just in case...
A five dollar bill is folded in the corner!
I grab the bill with vigor
And place it in the woman's hand.
Confusion crosses her face,
But I care not,
For I am victorious.
She hands me the remainder of the money,
I give her a dollar out of joy,
And I run toward the exit.
I did not notice,
A janitor cleaning the bathroom.
As I joyously skip to the exit,
My foot glides across water,
The world turns upside down,
As my spine crashes to the floor.
Pain surges throughout my limbs,
But my concern casues my eyes to search for the jelly,
Which is safely in the bag.
The janitor laughs at me,
As though he had planned it all out.
But it doesn't matter anymore,
I'm nearly home free.
My feet cross the threshold of my house.
I limp from the pain in my vertebrae
Into my kitchen.
I place the bag on the stove,
And eagerly pull out the jar.
I pull out the other necessary items,
And begin construction on my masterpiece.
The most glorious of constructs.
Worthy of noteriety.
I take the first bite.
And the joy travels down my throat.
But a parched feeling soon develops.
So I travel to the cabinet,
And grab a glass for milk.
Opening the fridge again,
I cry out in despair.
Again, something's missing.
No milk in my fridge.
Once again, i hope you liked that one. Comments and referrals to your friends are greatly appreciated. I'm probably going to take a shower now. I'll see you again soon. Until next time,