but i'm pesimistic currenlty. and i might have good reason to be. i don't know. i'll just see how it all works out. but until then, i wrote this. it's an experiement with prose poetry. let me know what you think (like you always do, *smile*).
It got cold way too fast. The short sweetness of he season is being blown away. Not like I would have had the opportunity to enjoy it anyway. The bustling of awkward relatives thourh gour open doors occupies thoughts, vacuums, and soapy water weeks in advance.
I made tomato soup the other day, but didn't watch and stir. It boiled over with a hiss, like forgotten family. an ovverflow of overcooked turkye and bad, sparkled sweaters comes to the front door. One can fake a smile for only so long, so soon they rush out into cold Christmas wind, and I'm left to enjoy tea in an empty kitchen, leftovers rotting in the refridgerator.
i really hope my thanksgiving is like this. i don't think it will be. and just so everyone knows, because i love to celebrate birthdays but often need reminding, my birthday is this friday. just a dropped note would be fine. i love you guys so much. miss you,
emilea
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3 comments:
ooh.
pretty.
i love:
the bustling of awkward relatives through our open doors occupies thoughts, vacuums, and soapy water weeks in advance.
reminds me of my mom and how stressed she gets before we have company, with the multiple panic attacks and whatnot. Also it's pretty.
Okay I was going to quote but it turns out that I just adore the entire second stanza. I like the tomato soop, bad sparkled sweaters, faking a smile, and the last few lines and oh, Emilea, this is wonderful.
I might work on the first stanza, a bit. Just try to reword. (sorry I don't seem to be in a specific or helpful mood today. i'm useless, i know).
Um. Also, there are a lot of typos so spell check.
haha. there goes caroline being a dirty rotten hypocrit again.
anyway. this is good. i love how you capture all that lame and awful and tiring stuff about the holidays that nobody wants to talk about it, but it ends well. and. agh. again I say, not feeling like I'm doing you much good here but this is my comment and I hope it helped at least a tiny bit.
loves you
Caroline
so brilliant. It sparkles like the sweaters. =)
I love your experiment in prose poetry. You have a knack for poetry that transcends into your prose anyway, but you just brought it out even more here. It's absolutely gorgeous.
I can't think of anything negative to say really, except spell check, of course, and in the second stanza there are a couple of sentences that don't really makes sense. Well, one actually. The one about the sparkled sweaters. Just read it. You'll see what I mean.
But I love the rest. Especially the end of the first stanza. It's so amazing and so obvious that it's looked over. Like when you're searching for something in your room and you're running late, and whatever it is you're looking for is right there in front of you, but you overlook it, and then once you do find it ten minutes later you're like "How did I miss that???" That's exactly what that sentence is like. If you understand what I mean. And I hope you do.
Heather
oh, and of course I didn't forget your birthday was this friday. And of course you're getting more than a "little note".
I just don't know what it is yet. But it will require much planning. =)
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