I have not seen thee for too long of a time

Well, hello again blog. It certainly has been a while since words last touched your page. I was browsing over posts from years ago, and to my surprise I still find them relevant. They hold so much of personal meaning I gave them when I first wrote them, despite being very abstract.

After many experiences and much education over the past year, I have ventured into the world of first person. Not only have I cast off the third person, I also find that I apply greater consideration to what I write, am more aware of sentence structure and organization of ideas. Perhaps I came back here because of an indwelling fear of complete conformity, of unbreakable structure brought on by living with a routine.

I have discovered a great internal conflict with two aspects that threaten to tear my will in two. It is here that I wish to release the original flare of creativity that I began writing with, before my thoughts began to conform to influences of society's demands. I can still appreciate the skills and structure that I have been taught, yet the danger lies in allowing extinguishing that precious flame of creative freedom.

It has frequently been experienced that the most difficult part of any task is simply starting it, because so many other items vie for attention and focus is easily diverted. Now this piece has been written, and has created a crack in the dam through which the streams of creativity may creep, and eventually break through and flow.

The mind has been aroused, risen to its full stature, and begun to gallop across the endless horizon as it once did. It is gathering speed and fury to tear across the horizon as it once did, uprooting the original topic from its comfortable place at the top of the page, and dragging it, whipping and struggling, across the windswept plains of thought.

Fragility of order

Every day, it becomes more evident that lawlessness and chaos abides behind every facade. Although pieces of the world that is so familiar seem to run in order, others have been pushed over the edge by the spirit of lawlessness that runs silently rampant through society. It has been gnawing at the pillars of humanity since history was recorded. Now we are in a time in which laws are met with derision, and rules are ignored with indifference. All things point to a time of ultimate collapse.

When Love Dies

She is quiet, she is still
She is constantly ill.
She has given up everything
including her will.

The warmth of the sun and the light it once shone
Are gone from her life and she sits here alone.

There's not a reason, an answer or even a cure.
This is what happens when love lives no more.

Renée C Poissant

Test Scoring Machine

Clicking away throughout the day, oblivious to all else.
Living on electricity, consuming paper,
Unconscious and uncaring, yet powerful.
Determining the fate of the students,
Judging not by character, charisma, or efficiency,
But only by one ability.
That most useful and irreplaceable ability
To color in marked areas.
Not artistically or abstractly, or with willful thought.
But exactly, within the borders, and no further
Lest there be dire consequences.
For that machine has much power
And will punish those that dare think
Outside of the bubble it has created.
All hail the test scoring machine!
For it has the power to discern
Between those who are worthy and those that are not.
It is the Great Leader; on its cue we must lay our fate.
When we have finished, and emptied our brains.
And conformed our minds to fit into miniature bubbles.
Then we must wait in great apprehension
To see what the machine has made of our work.
Behold the excitement!
The results have come back!
Ah, what show of emotion there is
When the students gather round'
In fervent and silent pleading.
Those that have not gained its favor
Are faced with despair and a future as garbage men.
Those that do might be prosperous
Yet ever stuck in a rut as creatures of habit.
Never daring to think away from the path.
Ever obedient servants
To that great and mighty test scoring machine.

Feature Poem Four

Working on Saturday

Yippie! It's Friday
And I work tomorrow...
Yet working on Saturdays
Brings me no sorrow.
I still have two days
When I don't have to work.
Being an old-timer
Is definitely a perk.
Sundays and Mondays are
good days to rest.
I come back on Tuesday
Feeling my best.
When Monday is a holiday
I never have dread.
I'm luck enough
to have off on Tuesdays instead.

Renée C Poissant

Inspired by the Feature Poems

There is a line of customers reaching to the door.
I wish I could hide, or curl up on the floor
Yet I have to smile all the more.
I dare not show any chink in my armor
Lest I fall into disfavor.
I must maintain control
and keep track of every dollar.

Feature Poem Three

The wind is blowing
the sky is grey.
The sun above
has gone away.
I feel the rain on my face.
I feel the rain every place.
I love it when the sky is grey.
I love it when the sun is away.
The rain is not gloomy
like people say.
I wish it would rain everyday.

Renée C Poissant