Spoiler
I've been working on some prose, so this wasn't what I was planning on posting next. In fact, I had no idea this would ever be written, but I thought "it has been a long time since I posted anything", and while I still have exams on I should post this spontaneous piece.
I'm acutely aware that this would be free verse, I'm no good at meter and rhyme you see?
(Although I haven't ever truly tried).
I wrote this in my garden last night; I woke up at about 1am, while I was supposed to be getting some rest for an exam I sat just a couple of hours ago. I haven't done any editing [EDIT:I have done some now, thanks for the feedback, I'm still willing to do more!], and I'm not totally sure what my thoughts were, so go ahead with critique
I'm acutely aware that this would be free verse, I'm no good at meter and rhyme you see?
(Although I haven't ever truly tried).
I wrote this in my garden last night; I woke up at about 1am, while I was supposed to be getting some rest for an exam I sat just a couple of hours ago. I haven't done any editing [EDIT:I have done some now, thanks for the feedback, I'm still willing to do more!], and I'm not totally sure what my thoughts were, so go ahead with critique
This is a very private moment.
I’ll let you in.
Out in the open I hear the water.
Hell, I can feel the water in the air.
It splashes on the rocks in the distance, but is rolling down my back.
As the silence creeps up my legs toward the joints,
there is nothing to do but let go from the top down.
It’s here that I come every night,
feeling the old phantom kiss of a cigarette that has not passed my lips in days.
I’m giving up now.
Smoking that is.
My thoughts and I are sat at the end of the garden,
surrounded by everything contained in the vast nothingness.
I see the sky in a second for what it is,
it cradles the minds of the world in a blanket,
protecting them from what they won't understand.
These minutes, and many like it, pass by daily, unrecorded and unmentioned.
Not because they are forgotten,
but because they are indescribably simple.
I can’t tell you how I feel at this moment,
but I can tell you how my chest shivers,
how my toes are being bitten by frost,
how my heart shudders in the cold,
how my breath forms coils before my face,
how with each passing second the water nearby resonates with my insides,
how everything seems to have together into some kind of sense.
But I cannot tell you how I feel.
It’s an odd thing to write.
To be a being of the moment,
existing really only in a single second at a time,
but to yearn to capture ideas and event for posterity once they have passed.
Really, I’m just rambling.
For what?
This is my moment,
my private speck of time and I don’t even understand it,
or why I’m capturing it.
Yet. It feels... adequate?
Logical?
Good?
Inspiring?
But at the same time,
none of these things.
I hope, dear reader, you can relate.
If so, I would hope it is a sign
that we are both human.
To belong to one group where we are all the same,
but take great pride in our differences, sounds great to me.
This is a very private moment.
I don’t understand it at all.
_____
