beginnings

i discovered my love for poetry a few years ago. at first, i was too embarrassed to tell anyone that i began writing poetry. however, about one year after i began writing, i submitted a few pieces to my university's major student publication comprised of graphic art, prose, and poetry. one of my poems was selected. it was even given a small accolade by a professional writer that judged the pieces selected for the publication. one of my best literary friends--a friend that had for many more years dedicated his life to excellent writing and saw what he considered a novice friend surpass him by the approving nod of an acclaimed writer--told me that my piece was just a nouveau style of unrhyming lines strung together with random spacing and the labeling of poetry. i was crushed. i did not show another sole a poem for another year. then that same friend, an honest, a true, dear friend, and the type of friend who's unthought, uttered, disparaging word does more damage than he could ever imagine, well, he became the editor of the publication the following year. i showed him all my works up to that point. he didn't have room. another few months went by. then i wrote another poem i was particularly proud of. this i did show to many people. now, eight months later, after showing it to many people, i have discovered that one of my most beloved professors from college is teaching my poem in two of his perspectives in literature classes. i have never beheld a higher academic, professional honor. this made me realize my lapse in writing over the last half-year. hince this blog is created.

one new poem
each day
one year

i am the next poet.

i have to keep telling myself this because i truly want nothing more than that. maybe i am sharing this with the entire human race or maybe just myself, but it deserves that statement: i will become the next poet. thus, herewith, i create this year-long goal. it's almost a belated new year's resolution, and with this first post, i am including the college publication poem, the poem being taught in my university currently, and today's poem.

first published...



black cat

i crossed a black cat's path tonight
after a shower to wash away the day.

i opened the door and rested on the
threshold of day and night letting
the unnaturally warm oklahoman-february
breeze brush away a layer of angst
from school to begin work on the next
of granite caused by the crux of an
unsatiated wanderlust and the geographical
strictures of university's life.

it was playing among the stones under
the stairs where no one travels, happily
ignorant of its surroundings, turning
from one thing to another, feeling each
rock for its quality, judging them on their
own merits.

incognitively he pranced across the commons,
he wandered with levity--the sylph, the
being that floats in and out of its own
being.

he stopped.

he chose to acknowledge that a person
was in the doorway watching his move
and we stood, each fixing on the others
gaze decidedly allowing a moment of
connection.

first marching in a straight line with
a pace measured by the encounter until
his feet turned him another direction,
slower, voluntarily going where his
feet were taking him.



currently being taught...



Little Brown Bird

Exploring the day, walking the trails of my mind,
I return home and open the door to staleness.
Continuing like, the fingers of my conscious
Run over the moment to determine the kind
Of temperament my mood has set: a textured mess.
Torn by the brambles and thistles, my attention
Is drawn to a bird in similar situation.

Unaware of his path, he flew through the window
Opened for relief of a stagnant apartment.
Not noticing at first, I heard calamity:
He had sharp notes of stress in his wings, flying low.
I was freed from my tangle but in his was bent:
Caught in the confines of solid walls, restricted,
Floundering, flapping, seeking a way to be freed.

Trying perch after perch, a darting, diving will,
Yet through all the same goal and logic and process;
I attempted shooing and distracting with no
Tangible results to be seen. Finally still,
In a corner alighted and hushed with much stress,
He glanced about calculating what would next be
A plausible way to move pass this and be free.

Gently, slowly, with calming words I moved to him.
In a vain attempt to help set everything right.
Halfway crouched, he startled and again took air
Under his wings. In instinct he paused; on a whim,
He took my finger under him just after flight
It was time enough to cage him between hands,
He deepened his worry caught in something more grand.

Tweet and twitter and chat he continued to complain
Being carried against will to destination
Unknown with eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.
Then through the door and gently tossed into life again,
He spread his wings without hindrance, instant elation.
An eternity of freedom with only one
Stricture: attention paid to direction chosen.



today's...



from one place to another

belongings set aside with care
the old already sorted out
away go things i live without
so to my life a fresh new air

to this decision i give doubt
i leave a place that i desire
a place i'll e'vr require
to go back to the place i quit

this country truly i admire
i'll miss the life i've here begun
returning to a place undone
unfinished by refining fire

the irony of what is done
is that the first and less refined
will help my learning mind to find
an education won by one

the one who needs a training kind
of mentor guiding future choice
to help create specific voice
that leads a man to sight from blind

in this i hope i can rejoice
and give my future chance that's fair
to return to place of thoughtful air
and look back and see rightful choice