physgirl

To anyone who follows this journal (sorry to double-post, this one isn't friends-locked), I am putting things over on my google blog now. It's going to be a whole bunch of math and science.
blog: A Model of Reality

So, just when it had been warm enough for snow to be melting and that I didn't need a coat mid-day, it snowed again. Gotta love the north. Man, if it hadn't been so much warmer I wouldn't have realized how much I really want spring to be here. Ah well. I'm only here for about six more weeks, so it can't be that bad.

Anyway, wrote a poem the other day and found one from sometime in my math notebook. The first is the found one, the second one is this week's:

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Critiques welcome, spam is not.

Wrote a poem kinda drunk and depressed at a stupid hour late last night/early today. Doubt it's any good, but might as well have it typed somewhere. Women are almost always fodder for poetry...

For You

I cannot roar at your leaving
as loudly as a river--
I'd like to sing you songs
with melodies that make you shiver;
I'd move heaven and earth for you
but that would take a longer lever;
     To lie awake each night,
     to guard your sleep against all comers--
     I would do all this and more
     if I were worthy as your lover.

But I am many miles away now
and of loves, I have another;
So I find all I can do
is just write another letter
With no knightly feats to mention
and no great new jokes either;
I'd place myself at your command
but for that you are not eager.
     I will give you all that I can give
     but for now, 'all that' is meager.
     I write you this so that friendship
     won't change to spleen and liver.

Light on a Dark Glass
There's nothing quite like dying flames through the darkness.
Like the flare of setting sun through the thick boughs of pine.
Or the streetlights through the grime-covered bus window.
Not like the light at the end of the tunnel- these lights don't grow,
we don't travel toward them. We watch them pass, like the smile
shared by young lovers, their lit-up faces, the glow
seen through the darkness of the unknown and jealousy.

In the Mind of an Artist
Sketched lines tear the white page:
Straight or wavering, stark
against chemically clean white,
like the first tears cutting through makeup,
the first cracks in dirt from a tremor,
These lines open my page to the mad world--

Okay, so coming out day or week or whatever is meant to help LGBTQ visibility, be a celebration, etc w/e.  So I'm just going to say that I am white, intergendered, female, gay, kinky, polyamorous, Wiccan, Taoist, and anarcho-communist.  Because I think that everything we are is more important than just our sexuality, that so often currently it is the combinations of factors that take someone outside the "norm" that causes so much isolation, because we should realize that no-one is really the same as us and that's good, because I'm tired of some things being held up in pride and others being shut away.  I am out to almost everyone about some things and almost no-one about others.  Like, at school all my friends know I'm intergendered but I just haven't told many people from home; anyone who asks about polyamory or Wicca or Taoism or BDSM gets probably more info than they needed, but those who don't ask may have no idea; and nobody in my significant other's family knows anything other than white and female. Coming out is a process that involves a sharing of information over and over and over again just so that someone feels that they are not lying and that people around them aren't having unfounded expectations.  I would love to see the day when people who care just ask, get an answer, and move on, but I doubt it's coming anytime soon.
I'm posting this public, even though that worries me, because it shouldn't have to worry me.  I am who I am and my identity isn't hurting anyone in my life, so no-one outside my life should care.

Ok, last 2 poems from that workshop. And I think this'll be all for today.

 

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I hate the posting limit. Here's more.

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Ok, although I have many more poems on my hard-drive to look through, post, edit, etc., I am going to just put the final editted versions of the poems I wrote during my workshop this past spring.  These poems have all been critiqued, workshopped, re-worked, and editted. I am still open to critiques, but please give reasoning behind any changes you suggest.

 

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I think this is the only sonnet I've ever written, and it doesn't have rhyme or meter. Ah well; I never really intended to write form poems. I just find myself writing villanelles and terza rimas.
Anyway. critiques, as always, welcome.

 

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This poem was floating on my computer, unfinished. So I just brought it to a close. Critiques welcome.

 

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