Assignment 2 Poem 2: Purpose

"Bzzzt Bzzt Bzzzt".
He taps the snooze button.
"I have to pick her up soon."
He scratches his stomach and looks at the clock.
"2:00 January 20th" it reads.
"The 20th" he repeats.  He stares at the clock while despair set in.
He gets dressed, grabs his phone, and keys then he leaves.
He scurries down the street in his Camaro.
"Dinner" pops into his head from some random oblivion.
As does "Flowers".  He uses gps for the nearest flower shop and begins it's course.
He grabs his phone attempts to make reservations for the fanciest restaurant in town.
He is now a man with purpose, and like a puppy running from the word "vet",he cannot be stopped.
He fails to get a table, he tries another place.  Meanwhile, he reaches the flower shop.
He notices a call coming in, he looks and it's her, he stops and turns to stone.
He is a man with purpose who will not be stopped even by the purpose itself.
He remains on the line with the restaurant who has him on hold.
Inside the shop he buys roses by the dozen, 3 to be exact. "Red" he says happily.
Once again, she calls, it chips away at him but he doesn't answer her call.
Failing to get a table,"Chris, what now?" he asks.
Their first date enters his mind, "That place!" he shouts.
He calls and begs for a table and gets one.  At that time he gets out the car and begin toward her.
She's facing the opposite direction but he knows it's her.
His phone rings again, he lets it vibrate.  She turns around.
Mission Accomplished!

Assignment 2 poem 1: Late

Late

"Sigh" she exhales.
He's late.
She gazes at her Rolex.
"Has something happened to him?",crosses her mind like a jaywalker crossing the street.
"He's never been late before."
She begins to pale, turning as white as flour.
The hairs on her neck begins to stand out, like meerkats on guard.
She scratches her head and begins to call him.
No answer.
Worry begins to swell within her.  She looks around and maintains composure.
With a deep breathe she calls again.
"Brrrrrr", a vibrating sound begins behind her.
She turns "Chris!", worry dissolves and rage takes over.
He pulls a lot of red from behind him, roses.
She looks puzzled.
He smiles, "It's January 25th", he explained.
"Happy anniversary"!

Practice Poem 2: Little White Rabbit

Oh little white rabbit the path you take is quite linear.  Your destination is indecipherable and never imminent.  You're quite keen at going forward and never back.  One thing that is lucid is that you running away from me is never going to stop.  For such a thing would be barbaric because everything would crystallize and be stuck where they are for all eternity or until you begin to run forward once again.

Oh little white rabbit do you ever watch where your going with those little peepers of yours.  Your journey of guiding others forward almost always seem to lead them into turbulent situations but in the end you would heal their wounds.  But what could be lurking at the end of your eternal journey?  A scrumptious meal perhaps or a warm place to rest your tired bones?  When you reach the end will be manifest or will it be as confusing as a old man who only speaks in innuendos or in awkward inflections?

Oh little white rabbit I sometimes like to watch the clock be a testament to you and your endless journey.  History, a subject built around you, teaches us how you purged, disbanded, and eroded many things in this world.  For example, the holy roman empire, the idea of segregation or small pox. History, also, teaches how the new age pierces the old age with change. It also teaches us to look forward and wonder if your continuous journey will one day bring everything to a gratuitous end.

Practice Poem 1: Hunger for Knowledge

This is the 1st poem I've written since elementary school, go easy on me.

A scrumptious spread of the most gorgeous bit of treats yet.  A new piece to the spread, a new flavor to the table, the familiar beside it acts as sly innuendos making the taste more lucid.  Certainly that  can't be all, I am keen for more.  I feel it, the barbaric hunger comes in, in like a turbulent wind or a gratuitous house guest. 

An unfamiliar library, a good place to purge such a ravenous hunger from me, libraries always serves up something new.  Aisle by aisle, lurking like a predator on the prowl.  With my peepers as my guide, they pierce though everything I have deciphered and consider indecipherable.  

Eureka, I've seen something marvelous.  A map of this library, a testament that will guide me to my salvation.  My hunger for knowledge begins to manifest through excitement, like an inflection the  tone of the hunger begins to change within me.  I want to laugh out loud in glee but I'd rather not be reprimanded by the the librarian.  I quickly regain some composure, calming down like a group of rioters being disbanded by the authorities. 

I find the fiction section on the map and begin my journey.  I look for little things that could pose as landmarks, anything to help crystallize this place into my memory.  The journey, which is literally a trip down a linear path down the rows of bookcases, ends as I've reached my imminent my destination.  I pick up a book I've never read before, open it and begin to read.  I can feel the erosion of the hunger that plagues me.  Although, after several moments the hunger begin to arise again.

Wednesday, Jan 14th, 2015

Last Wednesday in class we learn of poems.  I learn that poems do not have to necessary rhyme and I have also noticed that they follow a certain pattern, like a rhythm.  I, also, learned that poems can tell a story, but not in the usual sense, which is more straight forward, no, they use descriptive words and metaphors to paint a mental picture.  But, you'll have to read in between the lines because as I previously said poems are often not so straight forward.  The assignment this week is to write 3 poems using 20 words out of 25 we selected in the poem packet and post 2 of them.  I knew this was going to be hard and I was right.  I can't seem to get the rhythm or any rhythm down for that matter.  But I'll be sure to post them soon.  Therefore, ttfn.