Back in April, I posted one of the poems I wrote while in high school. If you don’t remember, or would like to refresh your memory, you can see that post here. When I posted that poem, I mentioned that I may post another in the future, and that’s what I’m going to do now.
Life is smoke and mirrors, a bouquet of flowers.
Full of fragrance, a bouquet of flowers.
Do the memories just die? Just fade into the past?
Yes, very much so. Like this bouquet of flowers.
One day, do I grow to a certain potential,
Just to be plucked like this bouquet of flowers?
Do I bring happiness, in a time of despair?
Like the thought behind this bouquet of flowers?
Or am I tilled, rugged and raw
Like the grave below this bouquet of flowers?
Perhaps a symbol of optimistic beginnings,
A bride’s hands gilded with a bouquet of flowers.
Or maybe, on the off chance, it’s freedom.
Like life, before this dying bouquet of flowers.
The symbol of something more, of individuality.
Just in case he comes back, with a bouquet of flowers.
I don’t know why I was writing sad poetry, I don’t remember high school being sad at all. I think it might just be that sadness is easier to write about, I think there are just more words to choose from. Who knows. I also don’t totally understand this poem, but I like that about poetry. I think it helps you sort of assign your own emotions to the words, with just a little guidance. It makes poems more meaningful, I think. Anyway, I thought I was hot shit when I turned this in- tenth grade me got a 98% in that class! Haha. But, I think we all know that the writer in the family is the guy I married, so I won’t quit my day job. (Unless I find one I like better.)