capstone pt. 12

That all changed when she brought me to the ocean

In those rich minutes the light was warm gold,

viscous, she let it in

floating in the sodium and the waves.

Rocking back and forth

I fought the ocean,

that colossal blue,

as it pulled the warmth from my heavy limbs,

Suspended four inches from the plexiglass surface,

blowing fat bubbles that distorted your reflection.

Time changed that though,

and warm gold became cool to the touch

sad skin

No matter how warm

Rubs against mine

Like pruned fingers

on paper

Ode to Trees

Watching the world as time flies

From beginning to end

Standing strong in tough times

From cold winters to hot summers

Watching us grow old. 

Swaying in the wind

Providing cover in the rain

And shade in the sun

Providing a place to rest

A place to ease the pain

We don’t appreciate it

How lucky we are

They gave life to us all

The sweetness we cut down with greed

One by one they fall

As will we

Image From Arbor Day Blog

capstone pt.7

This trip turned all that thought inward at times

It forced me to really think about what i was feeling,

and to sit inside my heart

so that my hard wired head could stop

and i became content to be in my own space

content to sit within myself as I moved. 

content to just watch as the world changed around me

merely maneuvering my truck from idea to idea

it forced me to process things by writing them

but it also gave me the space to think things through in conversations on the phone

but that depended entirely on cell service 

the oaks

wrinkles

white walls

metallic beige

flying roaring

cutting

white walls

warm animals 

in half motion

motioning

in motion

you latch on to these moments, these images, as they race in your head, as they take tight turns, as a force like gravity pulls and pulls you away. you find yourself empty save the quiet conversations and the warm silence. the moments that make you you. but how ‘bout I move them? 

how ‘bout i reorganize the pantry

pull the back towards the front

pour it all out

how ‘bout when you feel those candlewarm memories

in your stainless vaccum

you feel them.

you feel the road, the car

the pull

you feel the moment, the memory

fading

into the fog

Literature

As I look towards the AP English Literature Exam, I find that my favorite book can be applied to almost any prompt.

When you truly admire a work of literature, you can find obscure concepts within it. The Great Gatsby has been my favorite book to analyze and read. Once you finish a class, you can feel the literature being put behind you as you close each of the books. However, AP English Literature class has given me an opportunity to revisit old stories and use my newer skills to analyze these works further.

I look forward to using my personal collection of stories I’ve read to answer prompts on the AP exam, as it will allow me to reflect on my academic highlights from school. As I recall each story, I can remember the class conversations I’ve participated in and the numerous essays I’ve written. I hope to remember these stories into my older years and apply them to my own life.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Art by Francis Cugat

Nine Ways of Looking at the Moon

I

The sky was set 

The moon the captain of the army in the still night’s sky

II

Dazed I look up 

The moon, full, like a handle on the door to heaven

III

Scene three:

The moon in its commanding role 

Casts a spell on the audience 

The audience that is us

The spell that is an enigma

IV

A woman and the moon are one 

A woman and a man are two

A woman and a man and a moon are a romance

V

I prefer the moon

The serenity 

The beautiful chasm that allures

That is the moon

The sun is not the moon

I prefer the moon

VI

The walking dream has left me awoken 

Life and light has left me

Love has left me

A lonely spirit searching

A lonely spirit searched 

And found you 

The moon

VII

The rhythm of the heartbeat of the night pulses

The moon hangs on Orion’s belt protecting him

Protecting us

I know of a time

A secret time

That time is now

VIII

Shoot for the moon

And if you miss you’ll land in the stars

The woman who flew to the moon

IX

The captain commands his army

The flames of the day burn

A newly painted sky dries

I see a blackbird fly by

As the moon says goodbye

Image From Nasa

My Pencil

With the slow re-entrance to in-person classes, I have found that several digital aspects still remain part of my daily routine. While I used to carry a large pencil case with an assortment of options, I now have only one pencil that I keep in a little fuzzy pouch. Paper handouts are a rare commodity these days, and I find my handwriting degrading by the day.

I have left behind the use of binders – something which I have practiced and perfected since the second grade. The amount of papers I use now simply does not fill enough space to justify the use of a large cardboard structure that fills my backpack. I now carry a simple folder, one I have been saving for years.

My inability to write as aesthetically as I did in previous years may hinder me in life, but at least I can type efficiently.

I know that I will never retire my pencil, however, as there will always be a need to write.

Image Credit: CBS News

Passing By

As i  have finally arrived

What a beautiful place

Full of people like me

They took a different road

But now we are all here

As one, two walk pass

Free

Going where they please

With such ease

What a wonderful world.

The lights gleam

Everyone is on their own path

Tonight is a soulful night

Now is my time

To look back on the past

i enjoyed the journey

The bluejay has been away

And now is my time

To finally fly

Image Credit: Me

Music

It is strange the way that we associate music with memories.

It is like a strong perfume that is impossible to disassociate with an era.

There are songs I cannot listen to because I was sad during the month it was in my playlist, or even because I feel that I have moved on from that time period. I now listen to a song knowing that one day, likely very soon, I will have grown out of this small era and will associate the song with the general mood of the month.

Small things in life change rapidly, including the clothes you choose, the breakfast you eat, your daily routine, the people you talk to, and the music you hear. Listening to music from a different era of mine often makes me feel uncomfortable, even if it was a good era, simply because I am not there anymore. It reminds me that times have changed, even if it is month to month.

Sometimes I regret listening to the same four songs day after day on my drive to school because I know what I am building. It will be a memory for my future self to listen to and reflect.

The automatic association of music and memories is hard to shake. They are not implicit memories, it is the general tone of the era that went unrecognized until you hear the songs and realize the moment has passed.

Image Credit: Apple Music

Follow the Road

As i begin my journey to follow this road

This is not Cormac’s Road, nor the road that you may know

i must realize this, before i choose to go

This is a road that only i am on.

You are taking your own road, 

But perhaps i’ll see you when we get there

I will follow the road as the bluejay follows the wind

Great and unknowing, this road is

Little do you know where you are headed

But that is the magic of this road

We are all on the pursuit of happiness

A new age

Welcome to the rest of your life, they say

Heaven belongs to you

When you reach the bump in the road

Hit it in stride

Take pride

When you reach the end up the road,

i urge you to look back and enjoy the view of the past

As you are on your way, and i am on mine

i wish you to drive safe

But enjoy the ride

Because time flies quicker than you know

Before you know it,

We’ll be saying goodbye

In another lifetime

Image from Material district

Ride the Wind

As i sit and watch the trees

The leaves flow in the breeze

The leaves flow going wherever they are taken

Free to float without a care

i wish to live like that

As i sit and watch to realine

i sit and think about the birds

They live their life as i live mine

The beautiful bluejays

Not a care in the world

Riding the wind with the leaves

What is it like?

Living those days

But now i wonder,

What if i was one of their kind

Where would i go

What will i see

i wonder how

How would i feel

What would i enjoy

Will i get to ride the wind

With the leaves in the breeze

And the bluejays

flying for days

Do i want that

Im happy with this

i like to sit and watch

But now I wonder,

What if i could ride the white ferrari

on the skyline 

to the nights of another place

See a new face

As i sit and watch 

the leaves flow in the trees

i think about a place

That tells a story

Where people have come and gone

But i create that bond

i wonder if i can find that place 

As the birds fly with grace.