{Literary Thursday} Closer to Home

       The other day I was flipping through a two-year old copy of my high school's literary magazine and I found some pretty great words! I'm constantly amazed by the talents of so many good friends. Today, I'd like to highlight a few of my favorite homespun pieces composed by pals. If it isn't too dreadfully imposing, I also thought I'd throw in lyrics from Alarmingly Charming's oldest (Relentless) and most recent (Cascade) songs, courtesy of myself and my musical other half.

        I can't say I've always been excellent at writing, but the act of doing so can prove astoundingly tranquilizing. Whether that is positive or negative is up to you. For those who don't believe me, try it! Go write a poem or a short story or a song or a haiku or a journal entry. And if you're already used to consistently writing the same types of literature, experiment with something new. Write for at least half an hour a day, spanning a week. See what you come up with! After this, you're more than welcome to send your work to me at my Gmail account. I'm interested to find out who might accept and excel at this challenge.

{ODE TO THE LADY}

Amid gloomy demeanors of comrades, we

marched

Through villages - not understanding

Or wanting to attack this place

Just as we rounded the corner - 

I saw her.

The epitome of beauty, dark hair shone golden

in the sunset

Oh, to the lady! When she glanced my

way,

As I continued past her with my army,

Eyes beautiful crescent moons, like

broken glass.

She will be mine. I think

grinning -

Until her eyes turn to fire,

Piercing my heart,

Before turning on her heel,

And walking away.

 - Rachael Knudsen

{HEART OF GOLD}

Nine o'clock on a Saturday

The world outside is covered in rain

I think of her, but hesitate

I don't want my heart to beat at that rate

When she's around I gravitate

She's the only one who can levitate

My heart, for a little while

My heart jumps out to greet her

Before I get the chance to smile

You've got a heart of gold,

I'll be real careful

But won't let you go.

Priceless possession in my hands of stone

You've got a heart, a heart of gold

Nine o'clock on a Saturday

The world outside is covered in rain

I think of her, but hesitate

I don't want my heart to beat at that rate

- Thomas Koch

{SHELTER}

As the snow cascades in waves

Above the home I knew before

It's getting hard for me to stay

But worse if you open the door

And I've run out of things to say

A flaw that I've grown to abhor

As everything we've made

Becomes too important to ignore

So I'll keep dreaming

Of back when it was warm

And it was you and me and no one else

As we pulled our pages off the shelf

Desperate for a shelter from the storm

The midnight bell has rung

A tirade of her late nights left alone

Like the songs we never sung

Reflected on the life we just let go

It's easy to be young

To stare with awe into the great unknown

But after everything you've done

How could you expect to come back home?

I'll keep dreaming

Of back when it was warm

And it was you and me and no one else

As we pulled our pages off the shelf

Desperate for a shelter from the storm

It's becoming too important to ignore.

-James Robert Shepard III

{RELENTLESS}

A handful of songbirds bleeding out my memories
A throatful of your words never really aimed to please
And battlefield broken relentlessly put me at ease
A fistful of angels whispering on the breeze

Call in your troops and summon the guards
The war isn't won until you've dealt all your cards
Numberless men have encountered the shame
That inevitably joins the thrill-seeker's game

An earful of anger serenades me while I wait
A mouthful of ashes greets me when I reach the gate
And time hasn't stopped since the enemy asked me to stay
A heart full of danger discourages me as I pray

Pull out your weapons, forget all the rules
This time I play the unfortunate fool
Concourses weaken, but try to be strong
What would they do if they knew you were wrong?

A world full of people who think they have what it takes
A song full of verses that counteract what it fakes
And I'm just a kid who's about to run out of her faith
A cup full of water that characterizes your strength

A handful of bluebirds hanging on a melody
A throatful of harsh words never really seemed to be
What battlefields conquered relentlessly beg you to see:
That a fistful of angels was never quite harmony.

- Andrea Alexis Hewitt

Happy writing!

{Literary Thursday} Shel Silverstein

       I awoke this morning and realized I did not have any finished literature to review for my blog! What a predicament. As recollections of all the old books I've devoured turned over in my mind, I rolled over in bed and spotted Shel Silverstein's A Light in the Attic lying peacefully on my bedside table. I'm not sure about you, but I am always on the lookout for something to exercise the child in me - ahem, no. I am not pregnant - and Silverstein's words and illustrations always do the trick. So I sat down with my puppy Oscar and tried to read him some poems. He just wanted to eat the book. Nevertheless, here's some material to brighten your day!

Wild Strawberries

Are Wild Strawberries really wild?

Will they scratch an adult, will they snap at a child?

Should you pet them, or let them run free where they roam?

Could they ever relax in a steam-heated home?

Can they be trained not to growl at the guests?

Will a litterbox work or would they leave a mess?

Can we make them a Cowberry, herding the cows,

Or maybe a Muleberry pulling the plows,

Or maybe a Huntberry chasing the grouse,

Or maybe a Watchberry guarding the house,

And though they may curl up at your feet oh so sweetly,

Can you ever feel that you trust them completely?

Or should we make a pet out of something less scary,

Like the Domestic Prune or the Imported Cherry,

Anyhow, you've been warned and I will not be blamed

If your Wild Strawberry cannot be tamed.

The Little Boy and the Old Man

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."

Said the little old man, "I do that too."

The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."

"I do that too," laughed the little old man.

Said the little boy, "I often cry."

The old man nodded, "So do I."

"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems

Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."

And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.

"I know what you mean," said the little old man.

Rock 'N' Roll Band

If we were a rock 'n' roll band,

We'd travel all over the land.

We'd play and we'd sing and wear spangly things,

If we were a rock 'n' roll band.

If we were a rock 'n' roll band,

And we were up there on the stand,

The people would hear us and love us and cheer us,

Hurray for that rock 'n' roll band.

If we were a rock 'n' roll band,

Then we'd have a million fans.

We'd giggle and laugh and sign autographs,

If we were a rock 'n' roll band.

If we were a rock 'n' roll band,

The people would all kiss our hands.

We'd be millionaires and have extra long hair,

If we were a rock 'n' roll band.

But we ain't no rock 'n' roll band,

We're just seven kids in the sand

With homemade guitars and pails and jars

And drums of potato chip cans.

Just seven kids in the sand,

Talkin' and wavin' our hands,

And dreamin' and thinkin' oh wouldn't it be grand,

If we were a rock 'n' roll band.

Nobody

Nobody loves me,

Nobody cares,

Nobody picks me peaches and pears.

Nobody offers me candy and Cokes,

Nobody listens and laughs at my jokes.

Nobody helps when I get in a fight,

Nobody does all my homework at night.

Nobody misses me,

Nobody cries,

Nobody thinks I'm a wonderful guy.

So if you ask me who's my best friend, in a whiz,

I'll stand up and tell you that Nobody is.

But yesterday night I got quite a scare,

I woke up and Nobody just wasn't there.

I called out and reached out for Nobody's hand,

In the darkness where Nobody usually stands.

Then I poked through the house, in each cranny and nook,

But I found somebody each place that I looked.

I searched till I'm tired, and now with the dawn,

There's no doubt about it - 

Nobody's gone!

Thumb Face

There is a face upon my thumb - 

I did not paint it there - 

With pointy ears and winky eyes

And greenish bristly hair.

I keep it hidden from my friends

So that they will not stare.

It has a little twisty mouth,

And yellow teethies, too.

It snickers when I hold my fork,

It giggles when I'm blue,

And laughs and laughs and laughs

At everything I try to do.

Happy...doing strange things.

{Literary Thursday} Edgar Allan Poe

       When I moved, my mother handed me down the Kindle she had ceased to use since she got an iPad for Christmas. I have thoroughly enjoyed the clever little device, as I've always loved to read but only on a really-good-book, plenty-of-time basis. And now I can get really good books quickly and have plenty of time to read them! My very first Kindle novel was Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. Of man, was I proud when I finished that thing.  Disproving my initial hesitation toward the book, I found it incredibly intriguing and satisfying. After finishing I began devouring book after book after book. To tell the truth, this is quite uncharacteristic of me!

       Today I purchased the illustrated, historical-commentary-filled complete works of Edgar Allan Poe. They weren't kidding about the complete! There are two-line unfinished poems taken from scraps of paper included in this collection. Friends, the man was a genius. I have fallen for his writing style. Trust me, the ability to write is unbelievably attractive to me.

       Also, it doesn't take an extensive period of time in my relationships for others to learn how hopelessly magnetized I am to strange and frightening things. Of course, I still get scared to death, but I tend to like it quite a bit. To make a long story short, Poe and I would have been the finest of friends. Here is my favorite among the poetry I've read today, entitled Alone.

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were - I have not seen
As others saw - I could not bring
My passions from a common spring -
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow - I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone -
And all I lov'd - I lov'd alone -
Then - in my childhood - in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still -
From the torrent, or the fountain -
From the red cliff of the mountain -
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold -
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by -
From the thunder, and the storm -
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view -

Happy cloud watching!

...and luck be with you.