So I know 2013 hasn't been my year for blogging... but I'm looking to change that (really, this time).
But my time away from this blog was not totally without words. April is National Poetry Month, and in that I participated in the challenge of creating 30 poems for 30 days. You can see the product of that here.
They say the way you become a better writer is by writing. I know I've made reference to this before, but during the month of April I really found this to be true. Even though it wasn't always easy to find something to write about on a daily basis, and trying not to sound too repetitive or too emo (not sure if I accomplished this one) but all in all I think it was a fabulous experience.
I reached a personal goal, which was to write poetry in Spanish. I churned out dos of my own mini masterpieces.
April is over... and there are still so many more things to write.
So as I lay here tying up loose ends getting ready to transport myself from one room to the next room, I thought I'd share a recent work of mine that I did for a project called APOEM (A Piece of Everyone's Mind), which is a spoken word group where people call out others and give them topics for the poem they post the next day.
So I've written poetry before, but this was my first attempt at spoken word, and as I explained to my friend the other day in the analogy-- I sing, but I've never rapped before. So without further ado here's my poem, be nice lol.
What is a room, but 4 walls that hold together the meaning of my existence?
Or nonexistence…
Memories of bouncing on a bed so high it’s like you’re floating on a cloud
Floating away into space
A space, A place where my treasures are held.
Or were held…
Take a deep breath and intake the aroma of coconut lotion and Britney Spear’s fantasy.
A fantasy of being SOMEONE out there in the big bad world.
Without a room but two small suitcases more like cannons filled with clothes and shoes.
Shoes that walk the path unseen 6000 miles to four more walls.
In my mind and on my shelves are the things worth remembering, and the forgotten.
Pass your fingers across the dust on a library of knowledge and emotions over days months and years gone by
And just gone.
Stop and listen closely to the beats these four walls have heard from Pitbull to Phantom of the Opera.
Not forgetting to let the beat rock or bed rock.
Cramming and jamming off the walls into the headphones of my portable mp3 player.
5 senses minus one leaves four.
Taking them all in or all out.
There is no room to be called mine
Except in my mind, which has more walls than four
And the epitome of my international existence.
Thanks for reading/listening/watching! Next broadcast will be from my new home!
