Life is a constant stumble and fumble
of navigating through the world
looking for your place
for where you are supposed to be
as if the universe designed a single little space where only you can fit.
But the you of yesterday is not the you of tomorrow.
Does the universe know this?
Does it change and adapt
as you change and grow,
change and regress?
Perhaps it creates numerous little spaces for you to occupy;
for when you find yourself alone and free
or together and comfortable.
Perhaps your mistakes and mishaps
reshape your little niche,
moves it from place to place.
So you struggle and fumble some more,
But maybe the universe mocks us all
and we never need truly search,
for we are always where we should be
in the time and place.
It seems we are destined to a fate of free will and decision
and it is only a matter or embracing yet not attempting
to solve this puzzle of a life
which allows our unknown place to reveal itself.
written: March 1st, on my blackberry, finished in the Plaza Mayor, Salamanca, Spain
Tengo una pregunta.
¿Porque me quieres? ¿Porque me ames?
No sé porque.
Y es la pregunta de mi vida,
pero la respuesta que no quiero.
Copyright Sarrah Coward 2013. All rights reserved.
In my room
there lies a nostalgic wall.
Memories upon memories
side by side
Yet within each piece of dead tree and ink
there is a story
of a journey,
of a destination,
and of a voyage home.
Each rectangle and square
depicts a monument or event
tells an alternate tale
of adventure and discovery.
the past is relived
and feelings unearthed
by this nostalgic wall
so that I do not forget.
Snipers run silent on streets: point and aim.
A target, the boy – his blood flies wild.
Lightning bolts rain hell from rooftops; their game?
To kill before being killed. Poor child.
The mice move on. Victim number two. It.
Her. Suspicious eyes. Bang! Bang! Red.
A baby wails in pain. Its heart was hit.
Both souls soar high towards heaven ahead.
The locus spread. Bodies and bodies pile.
Point and aim. The thunderclouds move for show.
Little girl, the target from a mile.
Her face says something that you didn’t know.
She pulls a gun from the heel of her boot.
The hunter now hunted. Point. Aim. Shoot.
This is a sonnet I wrote for Grade 11 English a few years ago. It’s not perfect, as in the some of the syllables and counting are off.
I wrote this poem as part of my poem challenge. That challenge, which was to write a poem every day for as long as I can, has ended. About 3 days ago. I admit, I had missed a few days, but that was mostly because a poem was unfinished and I was thinking it over. This poem is called “A longing to create”. I really like to sew, cut and paste, make crafty things, and just generally create new stuff. But I’ve been kind of uninspired lately so that is where the inspiration came from. In my head, it is more like spoken word, so imagine someone reading it like that…
Remember that Spanish poem I entered into my school’s Spanish writing contest? (Here if you don’t know what I’m talking about). Well I won first place in the poetry category. Yeah. I’m kinda shocked and thoroughly excited. It’s the first thing I’ve ever really won. They had a ceremony on Monday night but I didn’t go, for various lame reasons (now that I think about it). The only two participants who didn’t attend were myself and a guy in my Spanish class who wrote a short story. My Spanish teacher was disappointed 😦 I wish I had gone but alas, too late now.
I found out I had won something from a girl in my french class yesterday, who herself had won in the speech writing category. Today I went to the Department of Hispanic Studies to collect my prize: a pen, a mug and $40 to the university bookstore. Yea!! Now I can by some mints and sweater.
I decided to enter a Spanish writing competition at my school where you can enter a short story, an essay or a poem. And of course I wrote a poem, because I suck at short stories and the thought of attempting more Spanish grammar than necessary, is not particularly appealing.
I finished my poem on Sunday after thinking about it for the whole weekend. It’s called La soledad or Loneliness. It rhymes in Spanish, but not too much in English. The Spanish version is first, and then my English translation (it sounds better in Spanish :P)
es una oportunidad
para examinar la realidad
no da racionalidad
pero la claridad
en el mundo
es una invisibilidad
y una dualidad
nadie puede ver
es la tragedia de edad;
es la casualidad
p.s. Instead of saying handsome or beautiful, why not try “facially gifted” it’s random 🙂