You don't have to participate in the blogfest to be entered in the contest. Winners will be chosen randomly among everyone who has become a follower of The Writer's Hole and posted a comment that they want to enter, by Saturday, Feb. 5th. You can earn additonal entries as follows: +1 for promoting the contest on your blog +1 each for tweeting or posting on FB +2 entries if you put up a sample of your own early-in-my-learning-process, sort-of-awful-but-I-don't-mind-embarassing-myself writing. +1 more for a rewrite of it, showing off your improved skills.
In 1969 there was this boy. He excited me a little, though at twelve I didn't quite understand what that was all about. What I did understand were the poems that he wrote. I also understood that if my friend could write a poem, then there was a good chance that I could, too. Over the years I lost touch with that boy. But I never stopped writing poems.
In the mid-80's, I lost the entire collection in a bad break-up. I ran away from that house with the clothes on my back, grateful to be alive. Maybe one day, when I'm a famous author, those poems will turn up on the market somewhere. One can only hope.
In 1989 there was another boy. Hmm. Boys and poems just go together don't they? This poem was inspired by him.
I see a few changes I could make to tweak this and make it better. But I don't get much practice writing poetry these days. Guess I need to find me a boy for inspiration.
Your gray eyes still haunt me Day-in, night-out A ghostly, almost scary feeling At the lone bedtime An emptiness. An "I miss you" feeling Almost...yet I don't even know you. Who are you That you've taken control Completely of my senses Without touching me. Probably without even Knowing what you've done. Sometimes I wonder. I'm not completely sure I'm not insane. The need grows And seldom fades Beyond the realm of consciousness. Why am I so certain Yet so confused? Knowing yet not knowing. I don't want to love Not you - no not even you. It hurts too much Tears tend to overshadow smiles At times. But yes - I'd try it For you. You weigh heavy on my mind And on my senses. Your name lingers On my tongue And parades across The edge of my thoughts Sometimes there's a cadence Marching, marching. Calling your name. I can't keep you away Please go - no don't. You're an illusion anyway - Something beautiful I've imagined. I can't touch you I can only feel you. The mirage that never satisfies Yet beckons without mercy.
~ Olivia J. Herrell
Yeah. Well. There it is. Maybe I'll come back on Saturday and play around with it, fix it, make it a little more purdy. And I'll come by and read the other entries.