"Listen" by Laurie Halse Anderson

I found this poem in the book "Speak" by Laurie Halse Anderson.. This poem really speaks to me.. I don't know why.. But I find it interesting in the way that it flows, the way that it is formatted.. Maybe it is because it IS different than anything that we are currently studying in my Modern Poetry class in college or maybe there's something more.. As I said before, I have no idea why I like it so much.. 

 

Regardless, I chose to share it with you, my dears.. First, I included a copy of the poem.. Second, if you click on the first link, it will bring you to a video of the writer explaining the poem and what her inspiration to write this poem was..

And, now my dears, I give you.. 

 

"Listen"

You write to us
from Houston, Brooklyn, Peoria,
Rye, NY,
LA, DC, Everyanywhere USA to
 my mailbox, My
Space Face
Book
A livejournal of bffs whispering
Onehundredthousand whispers to
Melinda and
Me.
You:
I was raped, too
sexually assaulted in seventh
grade,
tenth grade, the summer after
graduation,
at a party
i was 16
i was 14
i was 5 and he did it for three
years
i loved him
i didn’t even know him.
He was my best friend’s brother,
my grandfather, father, mommy’s
boyfriend,
my date
my cousin
my coach
i met him for the first time that
night and —
four guys took turns, and  —
i’m a boy and this happened to
 me, and  —
… I got pregnant I gave up my
daughter for adoption …
did it happen to you, too?
U 2?
You:
i wasn’t raped, but
my dad drinks, but
i hate talking, but
my brother was shot, but
i am outcast, but
my parents split up, but
i am clanless, but
we lost our house, but
i have secrets – seven years of secrets
and i cut
myself my friends cut
we all cut cut cut
to let out the pain

… my 5-year-old cousin was
raped –
he’s beginning to act out now …
do you have suicidal thoughts?
do you want to kill him?
You:
Melinda is a lot like this girl I
know
No she’s a lot like
(me)
i am MelindaSarah
i am MelindaRogelio i am MelindaMegan, MelindaAmberMelindaStephenTori
PhillipNavdiaTiaraMateoKristinaBeth
it keeps hurting, but
but
but
but
this book cracked my shell
it keeps hurting I hurt, but
but your book cracked my shell.
You:
I cried when I read it.
I laughed when I read it
is that dumb?
I sat with the girl —
you know,  that girl —
I sat with her because nobody sits with
her at lunch
and I’m a cheerleader, so there.
speak changed my life
cracked my shell
made me think
about parties
gave me
wings this book
opened my mouth
i whispered, cried
rolled up my sleeves i
hate talking but
I am trying.
You made me remember who I
am.
Thanks.
P.S. Our class is gonna analyze this thing to death.
Me:
Me:
Me: weeping


http://www.goodreads.com/videos/show/2682-listen-a-poem-by-laurie-halse-anderson

 

source: 

http://madwomanintheforest.com/listen/

Peace and Love, my dears. Peace and love. 

 

Maybe one more before bed..

This is a very rough copy of a writing exercise that I started this semester.. So if it is not too great... Just throwing that out there...

Oh yea.. There is no title to this story.. So suggest titles to me in the comments!!!

Janie sat down at the ancient desk; a desk that once belonged to her great grandmother back during the civil war and was now littered with drafts of a letter she would probably never send. She cleared a spot of the desk before pulling out another piece of paper and writing, “Dear Brad.”

Hum. How to phrase the next part? She knew that she should probably just write down everything she felt, since Brad would never see the letter, but something stopped her. How could she possibly ever put down a year’s worth of feelings in one single letter; on one single page of paper? She had been hurt for so long that she didn’t know how to let the feelings go. She had bottled them up, locked them up. Now she wanted to let them go and she was beginning to find this… impossible.

Impossible to let go and impossible to hold on. How had her life become so complicated?

After much consideration, she picked up the pen and wrote three simple words: “You’re an ass.” There. That described how Janie felt towards Brad, even after a year.

But maybe that was too simple. Maybe she should be more specific about her feelings; not like he’d ever see the letter, right?

            She crumpled the paper and started again. “Dear Brad.” Another pause for thought. “You’re an ass and I hate you. I hate what you did to me. I hate myself for thinking that you were different; that our relationship was different.”

            The tears began to flow as the images of that night passed her mind’s eye. A night that she tried to forget. But that, too, was impossible.

            The scene flashed in her mind and she was back there, in the back of the car, hands and feet tied, gag in her mouth. Stuffed in a trunk, like some broken China doll about to be abandoned on the side of some god forsaken road; she’d probably be some fucked up version of road kill by the morning, cars swerving around her dead and mutilated body. Okay, she had to admit that was pretty dramatic. Maybe she wouldn’t be road kill, for say, but the chances of her surviving this were pretty slim to none.

            “Damnit,” Janie sputtered, her mind snapping back to the present like a stretched out rubber band. She looked down at the letter in front of her; too many emotions to try to put into words. Brad had messed her up so much more than she had ever realized.

            As this realization hit home, Janie decided that maybe she needed help. Maybe she couldn’t let go because she was still hurting; she still had the wound, the hole that Brad had left, eating away at her all of this time, making a hollow shell of what was once Janie; and finally, after all the substance that had made Janie who she was before Brad was eaten away, the shell was now a ghost. A ghost. Someone who had already died, by whatever means, and now roams the earth, never finding peace. Janie had never been able to actually accept this fact. But now she saw it. She wasn’t at peace and could never be if the images from a year ago kept haunting her.

            Janie crumpled the letter, tossed it into the trash can. She made a quick phone call before packing her bag. She was going to find the help that she needed; she was going to make life better for herself, no matter the cost.

© Natalie Davis 2011

A new poem...

Hey guys.. It's been a while.. I'm keeping up in school for once.. And I finally know when I will graduate with my BA in creative writing (one more year after this semester!!)

I had an awesome summer!! I worked as an extra in a movie (21 Jump Street.. Due out sometime next year).. I followed my favorite band (yes.. 100 Monkeys) through 2 states and went to 4 shows and a party.. I got to visit my godchildren for a few days.. Even started looking into grad schools.

The only thing that I did not do this summer was write.. Well not as much as I planned to at the beginning of summer.. But I guess a lot of things changed once my beloved grandmother died in May from pancreatic cancer.. It seems like I kind of lost the will to write over the summer once that happened.

But never fear.. I have found the will to start again.. It just took me a little while.. I am currently working on another copy of my screenplay (my computer decided to be a big, fat meanie to me and corrupt the program file that I use to type my screenplays, so of course now I can't get to it..) But the copy that I am working on now... IT IS SO MUCH BETTER!!! I am in love with what I have now, even though it is only the first scene.. Now the only thing is how am I, a simple college student, going to get this movie produced? Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see..

This brings me back to the title of this blog.. "A New Poem"..

I found this poem the other day and I thought I would share it with y'all... And, yes, this is an original poem that I wrote...

“Chances”

Chances are scary

And there is one that

I’m afraid to take

I can’t decide

If it’s worth it

I can’t decide

That if it’s worth

The possible heartbreak

He’ll probably break my heart

Unintentional, of course

Since I still think he’s an angel

He’d never do it on purpose

At least I hope he wouldn’t

But should I take

The chance on him?                     

Let him know how I

Feel about him?

Chances are hard to take

And this one has the

Ability to change my life

Completely.

© Natalie Davis 2011

That's all for now guys.. I'll try to post more often.

Peace and Love!