It is a lovely autumn day out there - if you haven't yet, go outside & breathe. You might even want to dance in the leaves a little bit. I would suggest it.
Beating myself up a bit in gymnastics class always puts me in a good mood; it's just ridiculously fun to use all your muscle to swing up to a high bar, swing through the air, let go, & land with a ridiculous flump in a pit of giant chunks of blue foam. They call this a death drop, but it's rather fun. I would suggest trying that as well.
All in all, this put me in the mood for poetry. (Don't question - it just does, okay?) First, a poem by my favorite - Mr. Billy Collins. & then a little ditty of my own from my freshman days here at BYU.
Introduction to Poetry
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to water-ski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
Monday (even though today is Tuesday - I know this. It's just a title.)
Author's Note: Cerusa is a character from Greek drama. I was writing an essay about her & ran out of story so... like any good writer with a stagnant character, I killed her. I'm not really a morbid person.
Today I am a ribbon,
Just floating on the breeze.
Not quite sure where I’m going,
but just doing what I please.
I write a silly sonnet,
wait for a boy to call.
Decide to kill Cerusa,
leave a message on a wall.
I try to make decisions,
give my life a place to go,
but today I am a ribbon,
softly drifting, falling slow.