A Very probably-should-have-happened-sooner kind of post

And that title is way too long but I like it, so deal. Anyway! The Christmas season is officially upon us, with snow threatening to fall as much as eight inches deep (though, I suspect it will be more before long) and all Ni! students campused. To add to my seasonal delight I recently learned that my door won the hall Christmas door decorating contest, which makes a very very happy girl!

I've been mulling this over for... well, since the start of this blog, and I have reached the very shaky decision of starting to post some of my poetry on it. This decision was swayed by another blog called RhymeWritteninRed and Alexandra.

Before I post one rhyme however, let me first explain something about poets (or at least this poet) and poetry: most people are under this delusional impression that poems are just these boring things that rhyme and make you want to say them in a sing-song voice. Some people even seem to equate poetry with rap. This insults me.

Poetry, for me at any rate, is how I express my feelings when something has touched me deeply. Indisputably, anything deserving to be called a poem, is a blend of rhyme, meter, and emotion; crafted in such a way that the reader has no choice to but to be drawn in and held captive in a dream-like world as real or more so than the one in which we live. But this is just the good poetry. Most of the stuff of mine I'll put up I would, by my own definition, be forced to call a rhyme, and naught more. However, for the hang of it, I'll call it poetry... to flatter myself...

My poems are how I view the world or saw something at a given moment. They are an extension of who I am... well, more like me; and I take them quite seriously. So whereas I do not mind you giving a critique of the rhyme scheme or pointing out where the meter had a hiccup - I beg you please do not laugh at the topic (about it, if it is humorous is obviously fine, but no mockery, I beg!) because, "...I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly because you tread on my dreams." - Yeats.

I'd explain this more, but quite frankly there are not words to describe how insanely personal my poetry is (and sadly you the reader will probably never understand or pick up on the finer, underlying threads that reveal it. This is not to insult your reading comprehension, rather to ironically and idiotically highlight how cryptic I can be.).

Oh, and for the record - any idiot who attempts to rip off my poetry will be hunted down like the dog that he or she is and then will be drawn and quartered and have their entrails taken out and hot coals put in, in their stead. :o)

Without further ado, a poem:

World in Gloam

Falling shadow, mist and shade
Dreams swirl in forgotten glade
Truth and tale mingle sweet
When in twilight's gloam they meet.

In twilight's gloam so dark and fair
Swirl ancient stories in the air
that seem to fade with passing night
But this is just illusions might.

Nothing is at it would seem
As if a dream within a dream.
But if tis so - tis more than if -
Then live we in a world of myth.
(9/4/2008)

So there it is. First poem I decided to put up on my blog for no real particular reason.

And now I am going to hastily publish this post before I change my mind...

And now I am editing this post because I see I have posted one before... Click on the tag to read it!