Poetry

I feel like I have forgotten how to even write poetry. It has really been a long time since I have done any really. I suppose being away from school has done that, and I have really been away for quite a while now. I mean first with Brazil and then going to Hawaii. It was always busy.

To get myself out of my rut I decided to go browsing through some of my older poetry and revise something so I could get my creative juices flowing (and start using cliches again, woo!). The poem I selected to work on is a poem I wrote for my Intro to Poetry class. It is called Sandstorm, although i have renamed it ghost. Needless to say it did need some work. Part of the reason I selected this poem is because it is some what sci-fi. When writing it I had a vision of a sci-fi world of sand much like the series Trigun (or perhaps Dune for those of you who don't watch anime). The revision wasn't to hard because I didn't feel particularly attached to any part of the poem, except perhaps that end that I liked the sound of and I felt was the real meat and potatoes of the poem. I changed a lot and I'm not sure it has the same sci-fi feel as the first one, although it is clear (I think) that the poem is not set in our reality. That is that the poem isn't occurring on Earth as we know it (although I suppose it could in some deserty region, but I don't really know).

Ghost

Stories tell that
the sand
pelting our faces
was not always here.
That the sand
is a product of man's folly,
or God's Wrath.
I don't know which is worse,
nor do I care.

We march through the dunes,
relentless as the sand itself
to find the town,
where we were told
water would be found.

But I know that
this town
will be bleak,
empty.
We will only find
the ghosts
of this town.

It was a long
time ago that
I even remembered
a town,
whose ghosts
weren’t as
thirsty as we
were.

Copywrite 2008 William Curb