Frosty Gracie Poetry

Amateur poetry by Gracie Foust

What A Girl Wants – Anaphora – Journal 6

February 24th, 2017

I want to tell you everything,
I want to make things right.
I want your frown to become a smile,
I want my tears to stop.
I want a lightness in your eyes,
I want a gentle touch.
I want to hold your hand and
I want to feel me blush.
I want to make you look at me,
I want a soft kiss.
I want what we had back, and
I want it to be bliss.
I want you to understand and
I want you to forget.
I want you to know I never meant what I said.
I want what’s best for me and
I want what’s best for you,
I want you to see she’s not the one for you.
I want you to leave her,
I want you in my bed.
I want you to think she’s ugly,
I want you to tell her that.
I want you to love only me, and
I want you to know that you should.
I want you to want me, and
I want you.

Journal 5: A Woman’s Cento

February 17th, 2017

This is a woman’s confession:
More & more I see the human form
hiss in the stillness.
We ourselves flash and yearn, 
lying face-down in the dirt. 
The face not mine but one I will wear
to a dark tangled thorny place.
The complement is vain, if it exits. 
Peel off in patches until
what’s left is nothing.

Source(s): Adrienne Rich, Simone Muench, Louise Gluck, John Berryman, Ai, Ocean Vuong, Carol Ann Duffy, Marianne Moore, Richard Willbur, Philip Stephens 

Journal 4

February 11th, 2017

Version 1

The cows stand
under the trees
in the wet grass,
lifting their necks
to pull leaves down.
We slow the truck,
pull over to the side
of the road to watch them.
How graceful they look,
how unlike themselves.
We get out
and lean on the fence.
The cows don’t seem to notice we are there.

Analysis: For this version, I simply broke the lines in a way that has every line containing a full thought. Breaking the lines this way almost creates a stream of consciousness, as the lines are broken in a similar pattern to the way we think. This is also the only version I created that has the first and last lines of the poem start with “the cows”, making the poem revolve entirely about the cows themselves.

Version 2

The cows stand under
the trees in the wet
grass, lifting their necks to pull
leaves down. We slow
the truck, pull over to the side
of the road to watch
them. How graceful they look, how
unlike themselves. We get out
and lean on the fence. The cows
don’t seem to notice we are there.

Analysis: For this version, the line breaks create a sense of symmetry, as they are all similar lengths. All of the words at the end of each line end with a one or two-syllable word creating a sharpened rhythm. Only the very last line of the poem is end-stopped, which allows the reader to move smoothly through the piece.

Version 3

The cows
stand under the trees
in the wet grass, lifting
their necks to pull leaves
down. We slow the truck, pull
over to the side of the road to
watch them. How graceful
they look, how
unlike themselves.
We get out and lean
on the fence.
The cows
don’t seem to notice
we are there.

Analysis: In this version, there is still a sense of symmetry, with lines 2-7 being similar lengths and 8-14 are all super short. Shortening the lines for the second half of the poem creates almost a slow-down of the speaker’s thoughts as they take in what they see. The ending line being “we are there” by itself changes the meaning of the poem from focusing on the cows, to focusing in on the speaker’s presence in the environment.

Journal 3: Similes Experiment

February 3rd, 2017

One Missed Call

Version 1:

I swing the door open and the metallic smell
Hit my face like a tornado,
Swirling around my head
Until I felt faint. My heart was
loud and quick, like hail
Pounding on a rooftop.
As I moved towards the kitchen
At first all i saw was red,
Pooling across the white tiles
Like a flood. My eyes moved slowly
Following the crimson trail.
I saw her.
She was snow: cold, white, and still.
I plummeted to my weakened knees
And clung to her like a vine on a tree,
Wrapping her in my arms.
Tears stream down my face as if
A waterway had burst open
But I was holding an empty shell; a flower
that had been ripped out of the ground.
I released her, and laid her by her side,
Wishing that I too
Would be torn out of the earth.

Version 2:

I swing the door open and the metallic smell
Hit me like a slap in the face,
Closing in around my head
Until I felt faint. My heart was
loud and quick, like the beat of a drum.
As I moved towards the kitchen
At first all i saw was red,
Pooling across the white tiles
Like spilt wine. My eyes moved slowly
Following the crimson trail.
I saw her.
She was a statue: cold, white, and still.
I plummeted to my weakened knees
And clung to her like a child to a life-vest,
Wrapping her in my arms.
Tears stream down my face as if
I had sprung a leak
But I was holding a shadow; a canvas
That had all its paint washed away.
I released her, and laid her by her side,
Wishing that I too
Would have my colors scrubbed away.

The Next Thing Always Belongs: Journal 2

January 27th, 2017

What lurks beneath The Dead Sea?
The shrieks of the winds may know,
they yelled when you slipped and fell.
Thirty-five million of your cells die every minute
as fleeting as messages written in sand.
The salinity seeps into your bone,
who knew how long seconds really last?
I wonder why he left,
I want to run with the water
I wish we all had wings.
The slick scales of fish glimmer with pride,
seafood sausage disagrees.
The most unlikely pair is endgame
as the sound of vomit hits the porcelain bowl.
We should never want to fly,
how can we remember to blink?
The rusty bike leans like a crippled child
and my grandmother cuts in line.
Minds are endless mazes;
I can’t stop moving my eyes.
My feet ache before hitting the ground.
Birds, flies, fingers,
Del Rey is no different.
The menacing waves swallow the shore;
kill your lights.

Personal Universe: Journal 1

January 20th, 2017

Taste: milk-chocolate, espresso, blood, listerine, custard, rubber, stainless-steel, plaque, burnt, soap, dirt, buttery, flakey, bittersweet, smoke

Touch: paint, sandy, fluffy, smooth, frigid, skin, creamy, breeze, cement, morning dew, tree-bark, grease, raindrop, slippery, goosebumps

Smell: seawater, book, gasoline, chlorine, lavender, grass, rain, mold, lemon, leather, countryside, autumn, bakery, christmas, cotton

Hearing: ocean, keyboard, footstep, chuckle, splashing, children, bubblegum, whispering, meowing, screaming, sobbing, clink, slurping, munching, wind

Sight: sunlight, moonlight, overcast, candlelight, jack-o’-lantern, freckles, shoelaces, shadow, lily, tear, soap-bubble, lipstick, lightning, snowflake, stars

Action/motion: cradle, jump, swing, swim, bundle, swaddle, twist, shatter, kiss, mingle

Abstractions: regret, shame, longing

Anything else: Van Gogh, Richmond, Wednesday, Jacob, Potter, God, magic

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