Poem: Couch Potato

I haven’t posted any poetry on here in ages, so I decided to share one of my more recent efforts. In case you were wondering, this comes from the miserable experience of being an unemployed post-grad living with her parents. The job market sucks, you guys.

 

Couch Potato

I am organic
made of the earth
a tender young thing
still a little green on the vine

But like a budding bloom
plucked in spring
or a just ripening fruit
before true succulence

I have been cut off
pulled from the richness
of my nurturing soil
picked from strong, sheltering limbs

My growth suddenly arrested
on the verge of blossoming
clipped from my garden plot
and arranged in isolation

I am a brown root vegetable
dug from the ground
packaged with my fellows
and sent off with little ceremony

Now I sit at home
trying to recover from the shock
putting out tentative little shoots
but lacking the food for proper growth

Always stationary
a lump resting in the same spot
all wild eyes and dreams
but growing nowhere

I cannot shake the fear that
I am slowly decomposing into my couch

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Poem: I Fall Short

I apologize, Readers, for my extended absence. I have been working on a special project that I am very much looking forward to sharing with you all, and it’s taken up much of my attention. I also have been endlessly, soul-crushingly job hunting. I believe I have now applied at thirteen or fourteen places, and only two have even bothered to respond in order to reject me. One of them was something of a dream job for me, and for once I was completely qualified for it, and they did not even take two full days to tell me they had no interest in me as a candidate. That job listing is still up, which almost seems worse, because it’s like even not knowing what kind of applicant they might end up getting is better than giving me an interview. It has been an incredibly disheartening effort.
So today, I am going to share with you an old poem that rather sums up my feelings lately. It’s so strange to me sometimes, to re-read some of my old poetry and remember what inspired me to write it, but then to realize how well it has come to apply to different things at a different time in my life. Apparently I was an insightful little punk haha.

I Fall Short

I stretch my hand
my fingers feel a phantom brush
a butterfly kiss on my skin
that isn’t quite there
again

I hear the wind sigh around me
just a little farther
and it tries to lift me up
granting me half-formed wings
but I always fall short
it seems

The wise trees nod their heads
wisely
their gnarled countenances unsurprised
their green leaves tsking in agreement
the whole copse swaying disappointed
a picture of bereavement

The river runs swiftly by
sighing rippling sighs
babbling and laughing over rocks
at me
playfully teasing my failure
with fluid hilarity

The emerald blades below
ripple with disapproval
tickling my feet of clay
so I will leave the ground
and finally
be on my way

They keep misunderstanding
like if I reached a little farther
jumped a little higher
worked a little harder
it would be easily in my grasp
nature is demanding
don’t quit

Yet the earth just doesn’t get
I can see the blue of the sky
but I will never feel it
my visions always exceed my range
I am tired of always leaping
for something that will never change

So I fall short
back to the earth
a hostile, unwilling host
to gaze up at the sky
a stunningly blue, eternal almost

Just a quick PS, I have created a tumblr page to post my writing on, so if you are on tumblr please go and follow my tumblr page!