December News

Its been a while... but finally, all I have left is finals. My brain is a little fried, and I need sleep, so I can't remember everything that has happened since my last post, but I do want to share three recent events, as follows:

1. Our final poem in poetry class was due Wednesday, and mine was one of the ones that he had in time to make copies to do critiques on yesterday. It went over well... one girl teared up (and she's always writing amazing poems, so it's kinda a big deal, to me, at least) and my prof (the poet laureate of Kansas) said that its competitive, publishable, that if I had about 3 more of that quality, I could send them off just about anywhere and get them published and make a tidy sum of money. Very encouraging, because I would definitely love to pursue that venue! And if you'd like to read this poem I speak of, check it out on my creative blog, linked on the sidebar.

2. I love my iPod. It came Wednesday, just in time for me to walk on campus when it snowed and listen to Vivaldi's four seasons, the winter section. Amazing. And it puts on my calendar and contacts, which is definitely a handy feature. Kinda like a less fancy PDA in that regard, but its enough for me!

3. Alliance, eesh. Like what else could go wrong with our house, right? The pipes froze. Yeah, record low temps, blah, blah, blah. But when you call and tell them you need someone to come, and then all they say is "we'll put urgent on that work order" and the last time they said that was when the toilet was leaking over my bed and I had to call them again before someone came. This house is seriously in need of some fixing up. Like maybe new windows that don't let freezing cold air come waterfalling over the sill into the sink. or maybe a back door that you can't see a good inch of the outside because a chunk is missing on the bottom left, and the cold air still comes through the glass door on the other side of it. or maybe a fix to the ducts so that my room isn't an oven while you freeze at about 40 degrees when you sit on the sofa while watching TV. Keep that in mind when looking at older houses. And also remember that Alliance is very slow, and not on top of things, and I can't recommend renting from them and maintain a clean conscience.

Anyway, that, on top of 2 papers and a couple panic attacks, has been my week. Hope all is well with everyone, good luck with finals if you're taking them!

The Way the Sky Would Like to Touch the Snow

I open the deep amber door, covered with ancient scratches
and veiled with a calico print.
I am enveloped with the warm love of Grandma’s baking.
The yellow and orange vinyl floor squishes under my feet, and
is as old as the honey colored cabinetry.
She stands at her ancient rolling board, battered from years of use,
and briefly looks up and smiles, which crinkles her eyes.
Her warm voice greets me, before she returns
to measuring, mixing, folding, kneading, stamping, cutting,
and as her magic works,
bread, cinnamon rolls, spritz, pepperkocker, and more
begin to float out of the oven,
all with love and memories baked in.

3, 9, 0, 5, and the light flashes green, signaling to us that
it is safe to open the heavy metal door.
The odor of age and the acrid smell of disinfectant
assault my nose.
Our steps echo on the discolored tile
as we walk past mechanical armchairs
to the table where Grandpa, motionless,
is now parked.
I say hello, but am unsure
if he hears me, and am certain
he no longer knows me.

Grandma sits beside him, takes his lunch tray,
and lovingly feeds him, smiling,
telling him about her day,
how we came to visit,
but his gaze towards the far wall never wavers.
Potatoes, jello, ham, and then, to top it off,
she presents a special treat from home.
He grips her hand tightly, and she squeezes back
fulfilling a promise made 50 years ago.

He is moved to a chair, and she follows to sit with him,
reaching out to him,
the way the sky would like to touch the snow.
My vision clouds as a tear escapes, and I watch,
two lovers, hand in hand, and worlds apart.

The Great Frosting War

You smile sweetly,
“Aww, cupcake, just one bite”
and with your outstretched arm, offer a token
of friendship and love – a white spatula,
heaped with mounds and mounds of vanilla frosting.
Tentatively, I lean forward for a lick, and
with one deft motion,
I am left
standing,
shocked
staring at your smirk,
with icing in my nose.

The skirmish quickly escalates.
Taking the frosting on my face for ammo,
I quickly retaliate,
grabbing your arm to s m e a r on the white goo.
You launch a full scale attack.
Utilizing a kitchen chair to deflect,
like a ringmaster with a tiger,
you maneuver around the kitchen table.
But my attack still succeeds,
as frosting suddenly appears
in a streak
across the side of your face.

After numerous casualties,
supplies are exhausted.
We meet at the sink for peace talks.
A no fault treaty is agreed on,
both sides assisting in clean up efforts.

As I wipe frosting from your hair,
I realize,
these are the moments in which life resides.

The Language of Love

They say that French is the language of love.
Rich and beautiful, words blend into one.
Conversation transforms into an art
and all indulge in the pleasure of listening.
But difficulties are found underneath:
unsounded vowels in strings unending
sweet nothings whispers away from insults
voice dancing between passion and ruin.
Yet all of the risks are necessary,
for without an attempt, the joy is lost.
The hidden complexity gives structure.
Attention to the smallest detail gives
depth and richness for the outward beauty.
The greatest effort gives the greatest gain.