Happy first of autumn, everyone! With that said, I’m assuming the title is self-explanatory. Time for a nostalgia trip!
Cricket chirps echo in the unseen
Swathed by balmy blazes of heat;
The smell of sun-dried earth
The sound of cracked pavement ‘neath my feet.
I stroll through the moon-bathed dark
When all my fears float free
Swept off by a caressing wind
Only in this seasons does this force visit me.
They rush in, they chat, Then comes the time to part.
I know, because a leafy gale told me so
But till next time…summer lights shall live
On in my heart.
Some people will buy pumpkin spice lattes and incense to get into the mood. Tiffany Wrightey here, meanwhile, is set on being more active on this blog as well as her fashion blog this season. Then maybe go out and smell the rain and leaves. What are YOU doing this autumn? Tell me in the comments section!
Maybe I’m considered a little late, posting a summer poem in the middle of September. However, autumn isn’t officially here till the 22nd of September. And I want to submit some old poems about summer, which have a farewell-to-summer feel to them. So, perfect timing!
I composed this with a story behind it. It was the end of 8th grade. It marked the start of summer, a long-awaited trip overseas for vacation, and then a transfer to a high school at the end of the season. At that time, being a thirteen-year-old was hard for several reasons.(Which thirteen-year-old doesn’t have it hard?) But when all these changes came along, it made me hope it would be for the better.
As it was, I had a heck of a nostalgic summer.
Do you remember
Hot, sticky nights when I couldn’t sleep?
Smelling the sun-baked pineapple softness,
Its overripe sappiness on the table counter would seep?
The freshness of another morn;
And some birthday surprises around, too
How the sun beams would always leap
Into those bless’d days anew?
Do you remember
Kayaking at the lake with friends?
Feeling the hot sun beat ‘pon your back,
While thinking: “I hope this never ends”?
The lazy brush with each coming day,
Hoping they’d sweep you off to who knew where;
Yet still hoping for that one wish it can send,
Thus fulfilling my desire, answering my prayer?
Do you remember
That summer, when my lifelong wish actually came true?
Think back to a time when you saw an absolutely stunning picture of somebody. It might be someone from a painting, from a photograph, or even just someone random from the internet. The last part applied to me(Image above is one example). Did the image make you wonder who the person really was, and their age, their likes, dislikes, morals, beliefs, personality etc. ? Did you ever want to look inside their soul to see if it reflected their outer beauty?
Life didn’t lie when it promised to become
My absence of slumber always driving me
A hot, sticky night, and I couldn’t sleep
So I surfed a screen-size respite — I couldn’t keep
From coming back
To the image of you
Image of you.
T’was a restless night with a busy day
But oh, infinite joy! Tonight I found from where the image
I never thought I’d find you out, pixie muse
The cause of my lost sleep, a lackluster excuse
Till that morn
I thought you this fantasy creature in my
Till I found your starlet background in a lonesome
But! limited was the window to your surface life, I fear
Yet you could’ve conquered the world with your countenance mere
Blossoming into something more
Your brow is clear, as is your manner and
Youthful eyes fixated on a goal you so wanted to
That’s okay, I just wish I knew you better still
But I never did, and I never will
You’re an aesthete’s lost dream…
It’s ethereal beings like you that drive me into lonesome
Or maybe it’s just the intense heat wave, driving me
I can’t find anyone in your semblance, they’re all gone
Yet against all reason, I keep searching on
For how could I not?
How could I not…?
So if my fancy-shmancy poetry lingo wasn’t comprehensive enough, in the end, by a stroke of luck, I found out only a little shred of basic information about who my person of interest was. Anything more about them, or who they are as an individual, I’ll probably never find out. It’s trifling things like this that make me sad. 😦
But then, that’scoming from a person(Spoiler alert: me!) who started crying because she fears she’ll fail the math test she did today, because it makes her incompetent, because it’ll make her fail the entire course this semester, because it’ll set back her dreams and hopes forever, because…see where I’m going with this?
I used to cry. Chronically. It got so bad that I’d cry daily about all my sorrows and frustrations, and I was very insecure about it, like there was something wrong with me. Like I was a crybaby. And there was very little I could do to stem the flow. But since there were no other ways to let out my frustration, what better way than to just weep through it, right? I wondered how to translate my emotions into a poem, and as I searched within myself, I came to realize that yea, being a soppy, sniffling mess isn’t fun, but tears broke me down so they could build me up.
Crying never helps,
So they say,
It withers your stamina
And drains your day.
That’s not always so,
If you only knew the reason behind it though.
It helps to shed your sorrows
To purge emotions running wild
‘Specially if you’re passionate and feeling,
The end results are soft, calm, mild.
Makes your stronger
They teach you to immune against the bad
They teach you to look at a new day
To teach you to be feeling, sensitive
They teach you to find beauty, outside and within
They teach you to laugh at mistakes,
For success is still yours to reap.
They teach you to face life
They teach you how to become that better, wiser you
That’s how tears can be but precious
pearls of passions…
So smile as though it were your last
And glance at the rays of sun.
Sunrise is always the wiser
Than moonlight’s continuous run.
Tears tear up your world, I know;
But see it as a helping hand, not a friendless foe.
Ah, tears…a big part of a poet’s life. But without them, I wouldn’t have this blog for myself and everyone to enjoy.
So here’s the thing: if you absolutely feel the urge to cry, then cry. I don’t care if you have to do it privately or while pouring out your troubles to a loved one. Just cry. I heard stories from people who liked to keep it all in. And you know what? It broke them down physically. But when crying, you have nothing to lose but a little less weight on your shoulders. In the end, this isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s a sign that we have human limitations and crying is a biological, healthy reaction to overcome them.