Poetry: "Love"

"Love" by Pablo Neruda

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming
Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer
Remember your hands; how did your lips
Feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues
Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that
Have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to
My vague memory of you. I live with pain
That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
Make to me an irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
Vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
Glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of
Summer pain me; because of you, I again
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
Shooting stars, falling objects.

Another jar of honey

Some night I'll leave the sheet down over my open window, allowing the breeze to blow through the room, puffing out the fabric so it looks like a ship's mast. In those moments, I like to pretend my bed is part of this ship and I'm coasting through the open waters on a cloudless, starry night. After all, sleep is a time to regain lost innocence, right?

I pretend I'm traveling the world with Max to the place where the Wild Things are. I imagine we're drifting along waters drawn by Harold and his purple crayon, while Winnie-the-Pooh continues to search the ship for one more jar of honey. We sail under a bright, full moon, bidding it goodnight as we sail on.

Poetry: "We Are The Music-Makers"

"We Are The Music-Makers" by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy

We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
World-losers and world-forsakers,
Upon whom the pale moon gleams;
Yet we are the movers and shakers,
Of the world forever, it seems.


With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample and empire down.


We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

Poetry: "Human Family"

"Human Family" by Maya Angelou

I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.

Some declare their lives are lived
as true profundity,
and others claim they really live
the real reality.

The variety of our skin tones
can confuse, bemuse, delight,
brown and pink and beige and purple,
tan and blue and white.

I’ve sailed upon the seven seas
and stopped in every land,
I’ve seen the wonders of the world
not yet one common man.

I know ten thousand women
called Jane and Mary Jane,
but I’ve not seen any two
who really were the same.
 
Mirror twins are different
although their features jibe,
and lovers think quite different thoughts
while lying side by side.

We love and lose in China,
we weep on England’s moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.

We seek success in Finland,
are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we’re the same.

I note the obvious differences
between each sort and type,
but we are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

A few Clipper goodbyes

Today marked the end of The Clipper's 2011-2012 year. We finished issue 15, said some goodbyes, made promises to see each other again soon and laughed quite a bit. The Clipper is losing this year's editor-in-chief, photo editor, web and graphics editor, and our ad manager. I'm stepping up as the editor-in-chief. It's a position our current editor has been preparing me for all quarter, but it's also completely terrifying.

The people who are leaving aren't just my classmates or co-workers. These people are my friends, many of them very dear and close friends. So, while I've known there would be an end to this surprisingly amazing year, it's still shocking and just a bit sad.

At the beginning of the year, we were all on completely different waves. There was even a week of arguing tossed in there. I wasn't friends with the editor. In fact, the only person I was friends with was our ad manager. But now here we are, ten months later and we've finally found our groove. I've seen these people nearly every day since the end of August. Some of them more than others. I've built relationships that have taken root in my life - relationships I can't imagine ever living without.

Next year is going to be a roller coaster ride. It's going to be challenging without this year's editing staff and I know I'll have to step forward and take charge of steering our Clipper ship. But I know I can do it. I have over a year of experience with this paper behind me. It's over a year of struggling, laughing and carrying this paper with me wherever I go. No staff will ever compare to the editors and managers we've had. Then again, no staff can ever really be compared to another. Each one is different, just like the new staff will be different from the old one.

I've never been one to embrace change, especially when it has to do with something so important to me. I practically live in The Clipper office. We have our own little Clipper family. And next year, the family will change. The mood in the office will be different. Not necessarily worse, just different.

The one thing I know for sure is that those who are leaving - my dear friends - are going out into the world to do some amazing things. They'll change lives and they'll be changed along the way. As long as those individuals are happy in what they're doing, that's good enough for me.

This year has truly been a blessing, simply because of The Clipper and the people I work with. I could've never asked for a better staff and I could've never imagined I'd form such amazing friendships.

It's been a phenomenal year and I'm still trying to process the fact that it's over. But for now, I'll say goodbye to a job I've grown to love. Or better yet, I'll be seeing you.

Poetry: "I Will Love You Until"

Yes, this is a blog and I usually write full length posts. But I'm also a sucker for poems, so expect some sporatic posts of poems every once in a while. Like now.
"I Will Love You Until" by Anna Andrews

I will love you til the sun retires, until it burns out.
Until the rivers and sea dries up, or drowns the earth no doubt.
I will love you for as long as butterflies, dance in the summer breeze
Until the springs blossoms no more, until no sound of hustling leaves.
I will love you until carved trees by lovers, weeply fade away,
Until lightning no longer lights up a night, or strikes a destined day.

I will love you until all piano keys, fall deeply silent in fear
Of losing the curious spellbinding eye, and the craving ear.
I will love you until an artist, can no longer express his painted dreams
Until all beauty of distinctive sight, vanish within his screams.
I will love you until a poet, feels no pain in her written days
until the ink dries out, words are lost and pages are in a blaze.

I will love you until the wishing star that I wished that very night
No longer out shines other stars, or until the earth lose sight.
I will love you for enternity, forever may it be
Until everything has nothing, forever you'll have me.

I will love you...
I will love you until...

I am. I am. I am.

There's a moment when I'm listening to music and I become so immersed in it that I can feel the vibrations right down to my bones. I feel more alive in those moments than I do at any other point in my day. I feel myself shift from a state of mere existence to one of someone who is truly awake and living. It's as if I'm part of the song, like my heart is pumping to the beat of the drums and my thoughts are the lyrics flowing with the music.

Imagine a body and the way blood flows back and forth from a set point - the heart. There are times when music replaces my blood. I can feel it make its way through my body until it's sitting at the tips of my fingers. It's a feeling that probably won't make sense to anyone unless they've experienced the same thing.

I believe there are things that can't be explained. Now, that may go against the "Journalist's Code of Life" or whatever it is I'm supposed to follow as a journo, but think about it. Sometimes there are things that just can't be explained in a sentence or phrase. If it doesn't make sense, it probably won't until you've experienced it.

I'm not saying to just give up on it if it doesn't make sense to you. As journalists, we're taught to seek the answers no one else can find. We're told to go until we can't anymore and when we reach that point, go a little further. When there are things that can't be made sense of, try to find it. There will be times when even those experiences don't help you uncover and answer and that's okay. Searching for something doesn't always mean going out and forcing yourself into the situation. Sometimes you just have to stay calm and allow yourself to be.

"I listened to the old bray of my heart: I am. I am. I am."

~ Sylvia Plath, The Belle Jar