Voice;Poetry / lyrics / words

[] Brief

* Please understand my poetry is meant as a window to the world (sometimes my world), often a metaphor.  If you have a question, or would just like to discuss a subject, feel free to e-mail me (trackstar5@aol.com) about anything. * 

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Senior year writing.

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Writing based about my summer as a CIT in 2001 at Camp Weona.

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À Girl

As she stepped out the now-open door, I saw her for the first time. Her eyes sparkled a golden brown, as if the sun's rays shined directly on her. Her velvet brown hair was hung down, just covering her shoulders. The hair that laid on her shoulders was twirled into a spiraling staircase, increasing in width as it reached its end. Her lips were a purple-tinted red, formed in a smile. She wore a golden-yellow dress, cut at the shoulders to revile her summer-tanned arms.
    Later, we pulled the picnic table off my porch onto the grass. That night the stars were scattered like broken glass on an asphalt road. We both laid back against the table, and I began to speak of my troubles. Never criticizing anything I had done, she just listened, and understood. After I had finished, we talked of our lives, each sharing events that had shaped us. We hadn't needed to be present at each other's events, there was just an ability to connect and understand each other. She was able to see into my events, and help explain their possible meanings. The night soon grew late and we both would have to leave However, we did not leave without a part of each other.

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Circles / Questions

*[sung to the tune of "Get up, Stand up" by Bob Marley]

You think your at your best?

but you ain't no step above the rest

You wanna be high?

why don't you just go fly

Crying aint your game

well who you got to blame?

Stopping not to easy

maybe people dieing not to crazy..

[Refrain: ]

Get up out'a bed

cause your just not dead

there's a world to see

and 1million people to be

Words flow'n free

I won't hug no tree

Say you saw the stars

well all I got is scars

You think smokin's cool?

well maybe your just a fool

Got a gun in your pocket?

why not mom and dads picture in your locket?

Get up out'a bed

cause your just not dead

there's a world to see

and 1million people to be

Got no aspirin for your pain?

why not just try and abstain

Have the looks you call real

but how much can you feel?

Say moneys not your thing

then why all the bling bling

Just wanna dance all night?

well then why you gotta fight?

Get up out'a bed

cause your just not dead

there's a world to see

and 1million people to be

Just get up...

Just get up out'a bed

Cause your just....not...dead.....

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Description of a Place (from Summer 2001 @ Camp Weona)

    The White fluffy clouds of an impressionist painting would slowly drift across the sky-blue heavens.  Occasionally a yellow finch or

brown tailed sparrow would slowly glide across the painting, breaking the would-be artist's perspective.  Set on a slowly downward-sloping grassy hill, the place was home to a mid-sized maple tree (with roots gently extending over the ground, making for uncomfortable lying positions.)   However, when used correctly against the tree the roots formed a makeshift lounge chair.  The tree's branches held forest green leaves like the dots on a Monet painting.  Below the tree a mid afternoon shadow extended from its trunk's bottom towards 3pm.

    Beneath the tree a soft granular mix of a mud and flattened grass rested.  Comfortable to relax one's body and mind on, the mixed salad of grass and weeds was always the first choice of a seat.

    To the right of the tree rested a large sandstone-gray rock ( Its sides all weathered to a dull sand papery smoothness.)

    In front of the maple tree and rock was a medium sized lake.  It's in-between aqua-navy colored water mirrored the densely packed hill of deciduous trees set directly behind the lake.  Slowly the water would ripple like an echo with the gentle blowing wind.

    On the shore of the lake lay several metal canoes with sides dented by accidents long forgotten with time.

    Soft acoustic guitar chords would often drift across the grassy plain.  Quietly hanging in the air next to the chords would often by the scratchily sung lyrics of Phish or John Denver.  Often the music would be accompanied by the sound of echoing laughter or gentle side conversation.

    The peacefulness of the area often resembled the tone of a Yanni song.  Mind capturing.  Soul relaxing. 

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Description of a Sunset (from Summer 2001 @ Allegheny

Mountains, PA.)

    In the distance I can see the blazing orange sun sinking over the evergreen populated hills. Directly below the hill is a navy blue lake with its water slowly rippling with the wind. Like a glass skyscraper in the morning, the lake reflects the falling star like a fading shadow at dusk. 
    As the sun sinks and lets the night encroach, I can feel a peacefulness set in to the aura of my surrounding grass covered knoll.
    Slowly the sun fades behind the hill; the image on the lake all but erased by the oncoming not-dark-yet tranquility of the horizon.
    I lay back on the dew-wet grass and watch the night sky. Quietly the stars begin to illuminate the gray-black canopy, soon joined by the dull iridescence of the moon shining peacefully as it climbs the eastern horizon.

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A Story..

I watched the times turn

the people grow

I've seen the sun fade

and the stars dance

...and the seasons

they soar by on their wings of the future

and the old wind sings songs of the past

Told stories of endless nights

listened to my echo fade

Friends have rippled away

time has vanished with the sunset

...and the seasons

they soar by on their wings of the future

and the old wind sings songs of the past

Dreamt dreams of the future

finally found a friend

Searched the Red Rock valleys

and finally found myself

...and the seasons

they soar by on their wings of the future

and the old wind sings songs of the past

and the old wind sings songs

......songs of the past

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Love -

not the fitting piece to finish the puzzle.

And so I travel,

for I feel a connection,

it exists as my light does shine.

And so I always shine my brightest,

in hopes the sky and it's horizon I know,

will know me, and my shine for it.

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The Puzzle

It comes in many choices,
easy to hard,
100,200,500, or even 1,000 pieces.
Each piece fits together,
but sometimes they seem to fit
like a duet of a violin and a tuba.
But the pieces weren't made to be 
kept apart from each other.

Separate, each piece seems weak,
nothing, bland, and plain. 
Often only one color or just a tiny piece
of a picture, larger and more complete.
But when one piece finally finds the one it
connects to, it fits almost perfectly, 
with only minor problems sometimes keeping
the two apart, it can always be fixed or worked out with time.
And once the two pieces are together, they become one,
and soon they connect to more pieces and slowly form
one giant picture.

A picture only complete with every
piece together as one, connected, and fitting with the other.
The pieces all together create something more beautiful then
any one piece alone could have shown alone.
Whether its a gray mountain landscape, a flowery garden,
or just a historic event frozen in time, the picture is together
in the end. And only then is the puzzle really put together.

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trackstar5@aol.com ; 110901 ; Adam S