05 septembre 2007

Poetry and Prose in one posting!

(neither are exercises, I just wrote them, both are works in progress I think)

Grey Moods

Flat grey mists
crowd out the sun on my back

Manic depressive I thrive
on high highs and
the lowest lows
What to do with this in between…
this grey.

Tea at Her House

I failed a test once when I was in primary school. I remember walking home trying to figure out how I would tell my mother. I believe I said something to the effect of experiencing a need for revisionary practises. I thought it sounded pretty good, especially since I was six years old. But she saw right through me and I wasn't allowed any comics for two weeks. I was kind of feeling a similar apprehension as I walked up the steps to the house. As though I were about to be reviewed and found lacking -- failing. I rang the bell and could hear soft footsteps. She appeared in the doorway, her hair still damp, looking fresh in her sundress and no shoes. She smiled and opened the door to gesture me in. I wandered into the sun room and saw a pitcher of iced tea on the table.

"Please, sit, help yourself to a glass. I just need to put the fruit on a platter."
I sat and watched her move around the kitchen with a certain grace to her motions. She finally came back to the table with a platter of varying fruits.
"The mango and iced tea I think are a strange combination, but the strawberries seem to blend nicely with the taste."
"Mmm." I reached for a strawberry while she poured herself a glass of the tea. She sipped at it and watched me for a moment.
"Yeah." I wanted to say something to help the conversation, but I never feel like I can quite get my brain together when I'm around her.
"I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Oh?" I chewed harder on my strawberry. Leaving?
"Yeah… for South America."
I began to choke. I'm pretty sure I swallowed strawberry into my lung. She sipped her tea and stared out the window.

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