This blog is a collection of a young woman's random thoughts, many tangents, and occasional
short stories and novel excerpts. Stay tuned for plenty of bull and brief moments of brilliance.

Monday, January 9, 2012

I've Been On A Roll Lately

Geez two posts in two days, three within a week? I'm on fire right now. Granted it's probably just my best excuse to pass the time but I had been meaning to do this post for a while. (On an unrelated note, I'm slightly relieved to realize my parents don't really read my blog frequently [if ever]. How did I realize this? Today at lunch, my dad asked me about my post-college plans. Thanks for that one, dad.)

Many of us went through a phase of thinking we could write poetry, specifically when we learned of the amazing world of free verse. You mean we don't have to rhyme or even attempt to make sense? Awesome! I, as others have before me, was briefly deluded into thinking I could write poetry when I couldn't for the most part. I've posted two or three poems on this blog I think, and that's about how many I have of which I'm still proud.

After I graduated middle school, I realized I sucked, but continued to write poetry as an outlet rather than an actual expression of creativity. Along the way our family computers have crashed or gotten viruses and many of the early work was lost (thank God) but my college work has survived. Most of them are about sex--since I felt badass writing about something I knew nothing about--or generally depressing stuff. I want to share some here, with commentary of course: the worst parts of these poems.

"My Only Regret"-November 4th, 2009
I moved on
Why can't you?
It isn't high school anymore and it's time to grow up
I used to think it was my fault, but I did make a mistake
My only mistake
Was kissing you.
*On snap, you showed him! This was written for an ex who had dumped me and meddled in another relationship that also failed. I was over him, but saying, "I moved on," screams, "I'm still attached," even if it isn't true. The third line reminds me of a million Facebook statuses I've seen since being in college, the old oh-my-gawd-that-girl-is-such-a-whiny-bitch-why-is-she-being-like-high-school-drama?-so-immature. The last two lines are the ending of the poem and I thought at the time they were a real zing but now they don't make much sense. No, eighteen year old Molly, your mistake wasn't kissing him, it was going on double dates with your ex and the girl with which he cheated on you. THAT'S called a mistake, duh.

"It"-February 16th, 2010
But...will guys stop when they see her?
Will she take their breath away?
Is she special enough?
But that isn't the problem
The thing holding her back
Was she didn't think she deserved "it."
*Woah, major emo alert! Though I think there may have been some truth to it at the time, I think what makes it extra sad is realizing I wrote this two days after Valentine's Day. I think we all feel this way about guys sometimes, but it's a fleeting thought that's embarrassing at the least. You don't take the time then to go right a whole fucking poem on it! Alas, I guess I do.

"What Do I Do"-March 2nd, 2010
I'm broken, tarnished, damaged goods
But beyond repair?
Will anyone ever love me?
Can someone wake me from this nightmare?
I am a burden, always have been
Why isn't anyone else like this?
Why am I all alone?
What do I do?
*It's a good think no one stumbled on this or they may have confused it for a suicide note. This is a stanza in the middle of the poem (if you can even call it a stanza...) and perhaps the most depressing in this depressing poem. My main thought is, "What the fuck girl? Calm down!" My big tragedy at the moment? I was bored all the time with a pretty empty schedule. That's it. Also that fourth line, if it looks familiar, it's because it's taken directly from "RENT." Come on now, Molly, seriously?! I did have a tough semester that second part of my freshman year, but it was 10x better than the first. I had good friends and many fun times. I needed an intense chill pill and to stop being a damn drama queen.

"Touch"-May 5th, 2010
I want it, I need it,
This animalistic craving that can't be sated.
I got but one taste of the delicious sin,
Still dripping like honey from my parched lips.
*Animalistic craving? Not only does it sound awkward, it's redundant. And seriously, taste of delicious sin sounds ridiculous. The sin I'm talking about? Making out with a guy at a bar. I was newly nineteen. Ooohh so bad. The last line is so cliche I don't even want to mention it. I don't know why I thought I was cool for writing "provocative" stuff and it makes me feel icky in retrospect. I was inexperienced and kept talking like I was this giant whore who lived a crazy life. In fact, I would go to the bar for a couple hours, kiss a guy, get tired from the beer, and go back to my dorm and pass out by midnight. Not exactly life in the fast lane.

"Innocence"-February 10th, 2011
The fire's heat burns, teasing me, aching
Like the bitter cold does to the marrow of your bones
Wishing time would quicken itself,
My mind wants to be put to ease
For, you see, this little virgin
Is far from innocent.
*Oh, back in my virginal days, how naive I was. I had to include these last two lines here for obvious comedic reasons. Sadly, I actually like the second line and may use a variation of this in a story but in this poem it's out of place. This poem was about wanting to get rid of my V-card and the whole thing comes off rather pathetic. I'm arguing I'm not a little girl anymore, have more experience than I look like I do, and whatever else the fuck this shit is trying to say here. Did I have more experience than I looked like I did? Nah. Who was I trying to impress, myself? Truth: that little virgin was innocent. Gahhh

There you have it, some of my more recent poetry. I'm glad I can look back on it and laugh now and hope I'll be able to even more so in a couple years. So why today in particular, did I feel the need to write this post? Well I woke up from a nap and felt the urge to write a poem for the first time in a long while. Then I went to my computer and opened up my Word documents...and I remembered why I shouldn't write poetry. The end.

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