The cry of the preacher brings me to now.
Happy to be back.
The familiar smell
of hormones , depression and overturned stomachs
The touch of coffee numbing your tongue. Senses dilated yet stung
Bees and birds vow of silence unsung.
The ice breaker cuts silence like a knife. Each kid groans in strife
Miscommunications
I'm late for what?
Zoom lessons and underground pubs
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Sunset
The sun curves over the corner of the brick building. Setting over one side of campus, casting my shadow as I stand in front of its pathway. Somber music plays. The rays hit my face.
The lovely bright light oozing down my cheek. The first shine of golden hour not quite orange yet. Highlighting my best features, pointing to the ones I hide. A glow of tomorrow comes through.
A hope down to my heart. Beating, falling down to my ankles the sun has a ways to go. So I'll turn to it. Not needing to lift my head much.
As now it runs next to the brick building. No longer fighting behind it to be seen.
To get through.
The breeze still smells of summer. Foreboding of change.
The leaves are bright green.
Thirst for rain.
I'm ready for the fall.
But am i really ready for the eclipse of it all.
My shadow grows longer as the sun dips down.
Shining its brightest light as a finale of the day.
All my hidden broken bits are on display.
So why do I stay.
Blocking its path.
Right into the sun.
That is where my darkest shadow comes from.
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/ prisoners \
I watch them drone on. With laughter and smiles. The prisoners shackled by pretaught desires
From one cell to the next a gaggle of gease, thier footsteps line up
Mob mentality.
Truley happy with the chains around thier necks
Invisibly suffocating one day to the next
Under a witches spell they've all been hexed. Untill you're pulled out, and can see from outside, you'll drone on in your prison. Unable to stray, and unable to hide.
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Uncertainty
There's something to say
For the poetry of the mundane
The flow of monotony through each passing moment through sunsets and days
There's a certain type of uncertainty that comes on cloudy days
When will it rain
Will it be be ok
All thoughts are cloudy
Misty in a haze
There's a certain uncertainty
A poetry in the
Mundane
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YOU ARE READING
Sophomore soliloquies
PoetryIf you've ever felt burdened by being a sophomore in college your not alone. I'm writing these and posting them as I go along. So we can feel less alone together, in a complicated world, within a song. Please feel free to comment, critique, or ask...
