The Paradox of Life

I seem to be putting up all poetry first, so I guess I'll just continue with that brand-new, one-person tradition. (Or maybe I'll just sit here thinking about how weird and confusing that first sentence was. No, I think I'll move on.)
This particular poem was my first (and to date, only) attempt at rhyme. As a result it turned out rather cliched and silly sounding. It's definitely not one of my better pieces. But I somehow enjoyed it despite its many deficiencies (and being stuck for two days on one word). So go ahead, read it. Laugh at it. I don't mind. (I smirk at it, too!)


Light shines the brightest when the world is dark.
Love binds the strongest when surrounded by hate.
Flowers smell the sweetest when furthest from the park.
Heat burns the warmest when touched to the coldest state.
The earth that is parched most needs the rain.
The greatest of joys is tempered by pain.
This is the paradox of life.


So there it is. Or at least what it turned out to be. Not quite what I envisioned (should have been way longer for one), but that's usually how my writing works. I have an idea. I attempt to put said idea onto paper. I forget where I was going because I thought of something else. I pursue said something else. Repeat process until End is abruptly achieved. Final result: rather strange (but usually quite unique) combination of ideas all mashed into one. And so it goes.

This particular mishmash of thoughts and theories originated in a little internet cabana in Ecuador. While the leader of the group was busy checking email and posting on our trip's blog (things that were rare treats for him on that journey, and therefore always jumped upon when the opportunity might present itself), myself and three others needed to find a way to engage our surroundings to lighten the wait. (And yes, that was indeed a very bad pun. Tough.) My own remedy was to sit down and right something. And so I did. At least most of it. I got stuck on a word and had to finish it two days later when I had another chance to write. But that's the paradox of life.

ww

Copyright 2009 White Water and stuff.
If you plagiarize my writings I will plagiarize you! Ha!

Love Left Behind

This is my most recent attempt at poetry. It was written last Sunday while listening to my sister's symphony orchestra concert. (Which was really spectacular by the way!Mozart, then a gorgeous piece from Bruckner, who definitely needs to be played more than he is!) I'd been wanting to write another poem for quite some time, and this was finally the perfect opportunity. And so I did. Though writing in public can be somewhat strange and embarrassing,I seem to end up doing it quite a bit. But the final result is up to you. So here it is.

Breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
The rhythm intertwines with the beating of my heart.
Slipping.
Slowly, softly,
Dry eyes shut and consciousness drifts away on the winds of forgetfulness.
Do not struggle.
Loose your childlike grasp.
All is lost.
Dream nevermore.

I am oblivion and it becomes me.

Breathe.
Exhale. Inhale.
The rose-hinted breeze caresses my cheek.
It stirs the slumbering dream.
Faster. Harder.
My breath catches.
My heart skips a beat.
She is there again.
Her smile dazzles even my unconsciousness.

My eyes open,
But they do not see.
They are dry no longer.
Breathe.

So anyway, that's that. Kind of sad, but I like it anyway. And if you're wondering whether this is based off of personal experience, the answer is....I'll let you decide.
Regardless of your choice, you can at least tell that I'm a hopeless romantic (in both senses of the phrase), so this poem turned out to be one of my favorites that I've written so far. I hope you enjoyed it, too!

WW

Copy it right 2009 White Water. (Or else!)

Eyes

Eyes…
Cold, harsh eyes
Furtively glancing
Each instant piercing, tearing
Hateful eyes.
Glaring looks
Leaking black light
Painful light
Searing my eyes
I cannot see!
The world is sinking, swirling…
Pain…
Confusion…
Where am I?
Who am I?
What am I?
…Am I?
I am empty
Void
A shadow, spinning in darkness
There is nothing.
Light flickers again…
But this is white
It does not move
It is solid
Warmth
Surging past my eyes
Filling the soul
Comforting
Eyes…
Soft, compassionate eyes
Reaching out
Longing for me…
Smiling.


This was the first real poem I ever wrote. It was back when I finally realized that I had been given a passion to write, and that I might as well get around to doing something with it, that this poem came into existence. I remember the joy and pride overwhelming me upon its completion. I wanted to show it to everyone, yet at the same time it was such a meager offering in reality that I was rather afraid of what the reaction would be. And so there I was, anticipating the end of my inspiration right at the beginning, yet unable to keep it to myself. Thankfully it was met with no negativity, albeit not a whole lot of support either. Nevertheless, it was something to start with. And from there my journey has taken me along many twists and turns, through mountains and valleys, fear and freedom. But that's another tale to be told...

-WW


Copy write 2009 White Water. Etc.

The First Blog

I have been cheating on this blog, posting all of my writings on my Facebook account, along with this site. However, I do not feel adulterous in the slightest. I am merely attempting to expand my audience (and therefore critique), and so I was inspired to create this wonderworld for words that the mysterious phenomena known as the "internet" has provided. (Props must also go to Dominic www.dominicfaineant.blogspot.com for particular outlet of said inspiration.) I hope that you will be delighted in reading and commenting on what is put up here as much as I delight in posting them!

-WW



Copyright 2009 White Water (Though if you managed to find anything that you're desperate enough to plagiarize from this post, I guess I really don't care if you do.)