THURSDAY ALREADY

Ok… for this Thursday I came with two poems… Two poems together only for a reason. Well, I started writing the other day and it was really complicated because even though I wrote them pretty easily (yes, sometimes it’s hard but some others words flow like water) and I was only intending to write one, some time in the middle I realized that I had to separate what I had wrote ‘till that moment in two poems because it was obvious that the formation was of two kind. So, I kept on with two pieces of paper and I don’t know if I’m writing the totally same thing in “barren sea…” and in “time to…” but they both began at the same time and finished simultaneously also. Well I guess, they are probably two brother- poems and it would be a shame to post them one at a time. Don’t you think?
Ps Although the optional idea could be proved very inspring cause it was really special and fantastic, I didn't have the appropriate time to be involved with, so I just have to post these two that have nothing to do with the prompt. But I think that it will be equally amazing to just read all of yours versions about the meaning and the interpretetion of "synaesthesia".

A barren sea of flowers

A smile and a touch,
The breath of fresh air
You value and protect it

A memory and a glance,
The step forward you dare
When it’s less expected

A scent and a hope,
The barren sea of flowers
You nurture and extend it

A friend and your resilience,
The conflict with your encounters
That made you feel respected


A time to remember

There are clouds and stars
Depicted in your eyes

There are hopes and dreams
To choose from and to feel nice

Like the last time
You raised your hands
And thought that you could almost touch the sky

Like the last time
You clapped your hands
And laughed while most likely you could cry

And yes,
Like that moment
You felt for the first time special
And didn’t care if one day it comes your turn to die

ONE MORE SUBMISSION

Poetry Thursday here you are again. To tell the truth I got happy that there was no such strict theme this week, because I guess I’m not that good writing something by order (I hardly manage to write whatever comes in my mind and put it in the form of a poem, anyway) and secondly because I had already written the poem below since last week.
Anyway, the optional idea was to write something liberally and as everyone really feels. With few words, to unlock a pressed feeling if not a pressed self and get in touch with his real emotions. And I think the already mentioned poem of mine has a connection with that, by luck. Or at least that’s how I conveniently like to see it.
Now about the poem… So, someone could say that the protagonist of this poem is a hopeless illusionist but I definitely don’t see it this way. I think that he just tries to regain the lost contact with his feelings/intuition/neglected self whatever… That’s the reason I wrote it anyway, and this was my guide line and attempt. And the bond with the prompt I think it’s in the part that when someone tries to find a part of his self he no longer knows where and when was left, or a lost feeling or a past ability then he definitely hits upon and expresses a very sincere and true part of his self.


Sounds

So blurred
As if I was just asleep,
A little girl took me by the hands
And leaded me to a path
So long and so steep
“Hey man, can you hear
The rustle of the leaves?” she told
And it was weird
Because after she said, I did
Even though there was no air
To make them move, at all

And someone
Told me
The other day
On an overcrowded street
“Hey you, don’t you just love
This disregarded song?”
And it was weird
Because without thinking I said “yes”
But as hard as I later tried to find
There was no place this music could come from
And if there was
Someone must have had already
Turned the voice off

And I don’t know
If this was real,
But I think I asked a crying stranger
“Why these tears are flooding
Your eyes?”
And when he said
“Because a rabbit just caught up
On a hunter’s iron trap”
I felt guilt I couldn’t hear
The clicking sound before,
Though someone could say “it’s ok
This happened far
On the other side of the world”

But above all
What really startled me more,
Was when I heard your steps
First on the hall and later on
On the stairs
Even though I knew you weren’t there
And I had to shake my head twice
But then I guessed that I wasn’t wrong
Probably because even if you miss
I know exactly the path you are on

Bright

Alright, I guess I am into this Friday photo thing too. My first submission and the theme is “bright”. I’ve taken this photo sometime during June if I remember correctly and it depicts the shadow of my friend and the sun at the mud.
I think that it’s amazing that the brightness of the sun is always more perceptible and pointed out at the most contradictory surfaces.

TAKE TWO

For poetry Thursday i got two poems this week. I tried to be loyal to the prompt though they are both about how many different things a person can be and how many emotions can adopt than a person become a total different one...

Well, I had written this poem a few days before the prompt and I thought that it could fit somehow, by modifying a little the last paragraph. So, I’ve changed it and I like it more in this way and there is stronger relationship with this week’s subject. In a way, it became more meaningful and “whole”. But later on when I read it thoroughly, I realized that it was very pessimistic and the character who experiences all that I’m describing hadn’t taken the good from the bad, so I guess by not learning from the misfortunes he/she became a witness, turned him/her into a non- worthy mentioning character. So, at the end I added one more paragraph, so at least there is an option to choose for what fits better. I hope it still remains an indissoluble unity after the alterations and the additional part.

When you felt lost/
For the second time born

If one day as you walking,
You mind why that rich man is torn
Well, it’s because all his diamonds
Are either thrashed or long gone

And if one day on a doorway
You ask why the girl ain’t getting home
Then well, her neighbors might tell you
“Her brothers have gone to the war”

Yet, if a woman in a garden
Sighs a sorrowful sad tone
You’ll know that probably her roses
Must’ve been speared by their own thorn

And if a nightingale in a pavement
Perches there cold and alone
Now, it’s because its pinions got wounded
And then both eventually broke

And if at night while you’re strolling
You find that their souls are like yours
Or if you just try to answer
Whether how that day should be called
Well you can easily name it
As the one you lost your world

But if you decide to stop crawling
And stand at the feet that are yours
Or if you feel yourself braver
Than the king who demands back his throne
Well then, this day could be named as
The one you were for the second time born



This one I wrote it right after I read at the blog about the theme of the prompt. Although I guess it’s more like a story with the morphology of a poem. Tricky… At least I believe it’s kind of funny, compared to my blue poem for last week’s submission. I guess I really worked this week. As I wrote at the previous post about Poetry Thursday I see the whole thing as a joyful task and to tell the truth I love tasks…

All me

At the age of four when my parents
Used to take me out with them
I was this kid who its aunts were telling him
To crawl on the floor one more time
Cause I was so good in playing the drug- addict
(What was I thinking? What were they thinking?)

At the age of seven I could do the same
But I could also sing and dance
And that was making my uncles and my aunts
Laugh ‘till their stomach would hurt
And they would later say “How skillful is your kid?”
(Were they feeling that pleased? How were my parents feeling?”)

After that I went to school
And sometimes I was what my teachers wanted
And some others what my classmates telling me I was
So, I could be the good student or the trustful friend
I could be the quietest at the class or extremely loud during breaks
(“How many A’s I got? How many friends I had?”)

And when I eventually grew
I became the lover, the rebel, the happy, the sad
Whatever the circumstance the appropriate me
The whiny, the proud, the child, the dad
But it wasn’t like changing facades, it still is doing whatever it takes
(“Am I changing faces? Or just my face so utterly changes if I make a grimace?”

THE PEOPLE I LIKE

I don’t know why I’m referring to this issue but since I’m on line and I want to write something to post and nothing else comes in my mind, I’ll walk with this. People I like… Well, I guess it’s quite important for me and it’s worth posting it but yet, not much to say. Because I’ve figured out that there is only one significant criterion I take in mind about whether I like a person or not, even if this is just for the beginning. So probably I’m talking about the first impression. Anyway.
Well, when it happens to meet someone, there’s one strong factor to determine if I’ll like him/her or not. The people I like are the ones who are a little shy when they first meet someone. I like when they have something that is keeping them back. Possibly because that’s the way I am too. But, I don’t want them to be this way because they feel subordinate or something. I like it, when they are stumbling, because they just can’t feel opened from the very begging. Maybe because I’m this kind as well, also. For me the thing that is keeping me back and waiting until I feel opened to express my true self comes from the suspicion I generally feel. Am I to be blamed? I don’t think so. I never get too enthused, to start telling the story of my life at people I don’t know very well. However, I put myself and my idiosyncrasy aside for a while… Let’s get back to others again… I like these people, because I guess that stumbling means that they’re innocent in a way and sincere. They don’t pretend the super cool people who can deal with anyone and don’t feel shy no matter who is the other person. Which is good too, but from my experience with people, I believe that they’re faking most of the times.
Stumbling sometimes can be charming.

THROUGH CABLES

Tonight I watched a film on DVD which happens frequently of course but this one was really brilliant. It is called "me you and everyone we know", or something like this anyway, and the only reason I’m writing about it, is because the screen writer imparted an opinion, if not a conclusion through one of her characters in the film which was really striking. Well, I ain’t start saying about the whole film and its characters which by the way were especially well-built and multi- leveled but I’ll just stay to that line which in spite of it was just a speedy remark, I still keep thinking of it even now that the film is over.
Well, one woman in the movie said because of an event, that if aids weren’t existed then emails wouldn’t exist either. I believe that this is so true, and of course this is not restricted to be interpreted just for the emails, obviously. I guess this line means that physical/real contact between people nowadays has been replaced by the distant/unharmed digital kind of contacts or at least diminished, because people are afraid. It’s a shame that it involves some many jeopardizes and parameters to have an actual connection with somebody else.
So I guess it also means that the safety, distance provides people with is some kind of an instinctive precaution, maybe they/we take. So, the second conclusion I effortlessly can agree with, is that people feel more alienated now more than ever, not because they conveniently prefer to use the technology mediums to get in contact with others rather than with a more immediate way, but the way the world has changed and “progressed” leaded the majority of people to choose this way. After all, it may is just a natural and instinctive aversion to threats that there’s imputed in everyone’s genes since the day we are born, that makes some (or a lot) people act in this way.
PS Well, what about me choosing to point this issue out and mention it through internet and not through a different way… I guess as oxymoron and paradox can be regarded more easily as an actual phenomenon…
PS2 I had to "edit" this post and add this 2ond ps because after trying to publish it and "view" it after clicking the named button it was just impossible... The page could not be found or shown in my screen due to an error. Do you think technolology itself rebelled because I was kind of judging it...? Well, I don't think so... Probably a coincidence which made me smile... OK Let's see now...

I GUESS IT'S FINE IF IT AIN'T RHYME

It’s been a while I haven’t posted anything but I’m here again with a post definitely different from the previous ones.
Well, this time I decided to post a poem I wrote some time ago and furthermore I let it be included amongst others in the Poetry Thursday blog which is a place I found out recently and has to do obviously about poems and stuff. As the matter of fact, I’m thrilled to do so, because even though I’m not that much into poetry I see it as an interesting weekly beneficial task and I’ll definitely try to participate the more frequent possible. To tell the truth, this is just the second poem I’ve ever written after many years that I had wrote the first one and you can read it by clicking here.
For some reason, I can’t identify, I want to say(or more precisely type) that although I’ve “published” in my blog some of the short stories I have wrote quite easily, when it comes to poems I really feel hesitant to act similarly. Maybe it’s because I don’t consider myself as that skilled in the subject but that’s the way I feel about my stories too. I just do it for the fun and the liberation they offer. So my doubtfulness still remains a riddle even to myself.
Now that I think about it, maybe my second thoughts come from the conclusion I’ve reached that people sometimes are cagier and more critical with poems than they are with other forms of art or expression, like stories or song lyrics per se. But yet I don’t know if this version explains my dread to expose my “poetical self”. Anyway, obviously the important thing for me is that my hesitation didn’t stop me from “publishing” it because it’s right underneath though I keep thinking that making it such a big issue, it’s kind of weird…isn’t it?
To my defense, I know that in general, I always need some kind of a “push” or a motivation to do things and not be reluctant but this time I definitely managed to beat my inborn indecision. And this time I beat it for good since I let this be known and from a separate blog apart from mine and I know that people who really have an interest in poetry might visit my cyberspace and check what mine is all about…
It’s already been a big introduction and I wouldn’t mind if you skip, but allow me to add some more. Some more about the poem below itself…
Well, I guess that it’s not a very happy one, (do they ever?) and while reading it, I figured out that it’s about dark feelings and situations someone might goes through from time to time such as loneliness, loss, separation, futility, learning to live along with a grudge, time passing by and a bunch of some others maybe. Interpreting is a very personal and subjective procedure, so it can almost be about everything…
To end, I explicate that I use the phrasal “figure out” because even though I was the one who wrote it I only realized its meaning afterwards while reading it. During the process, I was just kept writing and writing without thinking anything, and without having in my mind a specific situation or experience. Of course, it certainly reflects the way I was feeling at the point I wrote it and possibly some experiences of mine or from people I know but nothing in particular. As writing I was thinking that it’s about a bunch of unrelated craps but afterwards I saw that it can actually make sense despite the lack of apparent cohesion and metre…

The same old songs

The same old songs
And a faded picture of you,
I stumble on the curled up carpet
As I’m moving to the kitchen

A lifeless house
I still can’t get used of seeing so well tided- up,
Your stuff is no longer in it
And so are not your clothes
That once had totally overtaken my closet

And yet my look is blurred,
Even though I’m out of tears
And the last ones have already
Reached their way to the floor

My attempts so vain
That it’s getting ridiculous,
I’m not going to laugh about myself
Cause that would make me like the ones
Someone cries about

Oh Gosh it’s already been so many years,
So many years
But yet it’s like it was yesterday,
How can it feels like it was just yesterday?

I’ve changed but that’s inevitable
And above me,
You’ve changed too,
What made you think that time wouldn’t affect you?

I can’t act like I don’t know you anymore
You’re like me and I’m like you
Our only difference is
That I could see it while you couldn’t

I’m still listening to those old songs
And I’m still whispering their tone,
From time to time I miss a word
But that’s ok
Since I’ve learned to be missing you