Tag Archives: poetry

Timeless questions: Rainer Maria Rilke

Rainer Maria Rilke

Rainer Maria Rilke helped me, probably more than anything else, to understand that my adolescent confusion with the world and lust for wisdom was not uncommon. When I felt desperately alone amidst the misplaced confidence of college freshman, my mom gave me a card with that quote on the front. It made me feel, knowing that the hesitation and desperation for answers that I felt was ancient, that people had been likely asking these questions forever, that I was not alone. I felt a timeless connection to the writer and the young man he was addressing. Continue reading Timeless questions: Rainer Maria Rilke

Story of nothing

I have only acknowledged the existence of my blog in writing once. I did not write a cliche first blog announcing to the world what my intentions are. Instead, I wrote about what happened that day. And from then on, I continued to write about exactly what inspired me to transform my feelings into words. But tonight I will share feelings I had in the past.

I’m not big on making my future-self guess what I was thinking when I reread an entry. I like to mimic exactly what I feel or think with words rather than writing some vague combination of words to be interpreted however a reader may like. Of course I try to leave in some sort of imagination, but I want to be able to look back and know exactly how I felt when I wrote it. With that said, here is a poem I wrote. I hate poetry, but I like this poem. I know exactly what I felt when I wrote it but it is up to interpretation.

Story of Nothing

I love it because it’s soft and hugs me back.

I love it because it’s a seven layer dip.

I love it because it makes me laugh through hell.

I love it because it stands it ground when attacked, and runs free when unthreatened.

I love it because when you pull it, it snaps, and when you hit it, it bangs.

I love it because the sun setting makes my spirit rise.

I love it because it showed me how to love.

I love it because it is not that new car.

I love it for those who do not know how to love.

I love it because it prays to a god it does not know exists.

I love it because it is reformed.

I love it because it is never the same two days in a row.

I love it because it is only occasionally sugar-coated.

I love it because there is no such thing as optimism, and no such thing as charity.

I love it because it swivels about my neck and hangs over my head.

I love it because it chooses chocolate and vanilla.

I love it because when I am in love, I would not trade it for anything.

I love it because even after it dies, it still smiles at me.

I love it because when it hurts so bad, I cry and cry.

I love it because it wiggles when I tickle it and kicks when I scratch it.

I love it because I know I can make your day.

I love it because it is salt and pepper.

I love it because it stays blank no matter how dirty it becomes,

because it stays dry no matter how  wet, and

remains 5’2” no matter how much it grows.

And I love it because it will grow.

I love it because if you make fun of it, it laughs.

I love it because if you hold your fingers a certain way, it shoots web.

I love it because when it scratches my back lightly in the right spot, my spine tingles.

I love it because you can see it in the dark, and not in the light.

I love it because I hate everything else.

I love it because it loves me.