It is a well-known fact that I have been working hard on making my poetry perfect. I have been taking the damn class for two years now and i think I have done pretty well for myself. I was sitting at The National Renewable Energy Laboratory, in golden, and I was bored. So I began to write. It was the first thing I have written in over a year that has had nothing what so ever to do with sex, or anything along the lines of the same. I thought it was good, my poetry teacher Amanda thought it was great, she told me that she was going to submit it into the schools paper. I was stoked. Yet for whatever reason it was Wendy, our lovely principal decided that my content was to edge and in appropriate for the littler kids who would be reading the magazine as well. As always when I talk to that wretch I got into a light argument, and had to ask for a second opinion.
I guess that I will now ask the fair few of gaian citizens that read my journal to tell me what they think, to tell me if it's really all that horrid of a thing to write.
((Original of dancing…))
I look to you with passion as I dance.
I feel your eyes watching my movement, watching the way I twist my hands.
I want to dance with you, yet your body is bigger then mine, you have far more grace then me.
When I reach for your hand I am scared, I know you don’t know my dance; or my rhythm.
I know you say that you can’t dance; yet I know what you are capable of.
I want to feel your body twisting, swaying, and connecting with mine.
I can feel your heat beating when you take my hand, and I can feel the rush of emotion as our rhythms become one.
 Teardrops_of_Ivy · Wed Dec 13, 2006 @ 01:35am · 4 Comments |
