Last week my friend and I went to Las Vegas and, while we were there, saw Elton John in concert. Totally worth the ticket price!! It was definitely the best concert I've been to, and I've seen a few great acts, like the Avett Brothers, and Bob Dylan! Anyway...I'm now reading an Elton John biography and am just so completely inspired by his and his songwriting collaborator's (Bernie Taupin) creativity, I think I am going to do the challenge with poetry, too. It's a continual interest in my life. Do I think I will be the next (female) Elton John? Hahahahahahahahahahahaha no. But it's fun. And maybe I'll end up with a song from this! That would be cool, and something I've always wanted to do (not with a passion, but with an interest).
So...on to #100DaysOfPomeletry! (I wanted a unique hashtag, so that's some kind of combination of "poetry" and my name, "Melody" lol.)
*Warning: The themes of my poems will likely shift depending on my ever-changing moods, so be prepared for both light and happy and very dark and depressing. O.o No one said this would be easy for you all to read...!! ;)
(Thinking about writing a song inspired by haiku...wonder how that would turn out?!)
Musical Van Gogh
Draw dancing vistas by croon
Keys unlock new doors
Fledgling painter with a tune
(I actually wrote both of these over the last two or three days, before I even knew about the challenge, and the following will already reflect one of my more somber moods.... Also, it would need a lot of reworking, but the idea is here.)
Early in my wanderings, I stumbled into a hidden pit
The walls were steep, and I was weak; I couldn’t climb out.
I lay there dying for years, glimpsing passers by above
I called out numerous times
Sometimes you tossed down a word of encouragement, slowing, gawking, as you passed
But the translation said, “You can walk with me, but only if you’re spry.”
Maybe you were limping, wounded too, but your gait looked fine to me
I ripped my nails and strained my bones trying to reach that little patch of sky
Visible beyond the high peaks of my enclosure
I think you would have helped, but you were distracted.
Why should I have been your problem anyway?
Where does my help come from?
I must help myself or perish.
What didn’t kill me left me weaker than I’d ever been before.
I lost my faith, my hope was baked; I couldn’t reach out.
It took time, but I learned the way of the hike again
I stumbled numerous times
Sometimes I thought I might see color again, someday, maybe laugh
But I never forgot what that deep dark hole looked like from the inside