Spinning

They say
The crazy people
don't know they are.

If I think I'm losing it,
does that mean
I'm not?

Rescuers

This is the final poem for my poetry class this year. (Hopefully that doesn't mean the last poem for this blog!) ;) It's a poem of gratitude, and it's addressed to you, dear Switchfoot boardie friends. :) I find it ironic that as I'm posting this, the song "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own" by U2 came on my iTunes... appropriate!

Rescuers

When you found me,
I was underwater
Drowning
Crushed under the thick, blue, immovable
solitude.
Every rejection
Ignored speech
Snide look
Silence
Held me down like a vise.
The solid, black
alone
was my merciless prison
And no one would give me
the key.

Along came you
Thrusting a life preserver into my
Grasping hands
Pushing words
Where none existed
Turning the key
Opening my prison
My crutch, support, lifeline

Thank you.

(unnamed)

I just wrote this one on the spur of the moment. It's partially inspired by the song Love Is The Movement, partially by this quote from Jon Foreman:

Love is, as far as I can tell, the most mature response to any situation - the pinnacle of what it means to be truly human. Love is a wrench in the wheels of cause and effect, of reactionary living, of casual imitation. Yes, speed and events are all around us in the information age, but motion, true motion, is rare. Love is the movement. Keep moving, amigos.

Here's my poem:


I sit on the side of the highway
As the cars zip past.
Lives pass
Each one intent
Focused ahead
Eyes forward
Don’t look sideways
Don’t stop to breathe.

In a world of motion
We’re devoid of
emotion.
Our movement is
machine, metal, mechanical
iPod, iTouch
I think
we are losing touch with each other

On the side of the highway
One person pauses.
One movement,
the mindless,
stops.
Another
the movement of love
begins.
Make love your movement.