Before and After

I think I can honestly say without hesitation, pause, or doubt that I didn't always want to be a writer.  I can't imagine my young self thinking, "I want to write for the rest of my life," because then, writing was schoolwork.  I used to cry over little assignments and whine about the work.  But somehow, I made it through that rough spot and conquered the feeling of disgust towards that foul writing!

I looked back through my folders of old school assignments that I kept to look back on, and I found one that I really liked.  I was nine years old at the time, still in that stage of, 'I don't like writing.' This is a poem about what Blue is.  I wish that I could share my little childish drawings, because, though I am a bit biased, I think they are rather cute.  However, I will do my best to share it with you as accurately as it is written, right down to my spelling, punctuation, and grammar rules.

Blue

Looks like a flower in a meadow,

Smells like a fresh blue berrie pie, 

It tastes like cotton candy

it sounds like a baby boys coo

and it feels like my Jamies so new

I'm older now, and I love to write, for it is the music to my soul and it fuels me.  One of my first blog posts was a poem about what I thought Blue was, and I think that I may have improved slightly:

What is Blue?

Written by Janelle Spiers 

Inspired by Mary O'Neill

Blue is a sapphire

Concealed well in a stone

A treasure forgotten

All alone.

Blue is a breaking heart’s moan.

Blue is cold,

A biting wind, sharp and cold.

Blue is a song

Blue is a car,

A lake, a clear sky,

A dying star.

The sound of blue is 

“Dong! Dong! Dong!”

A death knell rings

A mourning song.

Blue is bliss –

A gentle day,

Without a care

Happy and gay.

Blue are berries

And a pair of jeans,

The banner of rich kings and queens

Blue is a feeling 

Bitter and sweet

So melancholy

You feel defeat.

Blue is eye color

And watching the news

Blue is a risk

Win or lose.

Blue is lost

Beauty to be found

A peacock plume

Lying on the ground.

Think of what picnics

And rainbows can’t do

Bright parties, rolling waves

If they couldn’t glow bright with

Blue…

I wanted to reflect on the change I have seen in myself and I found it amusing and pleasing.  It's like a before and after picture: Before I wanted to write and did it because I had no choice on the matter, and After when I desire to write without stopping, and feel sad when I have to stop, because I have no choice on the matter.  What kinds of things did you dislike when you were little and now love them so much, and have you any proof to look back on?

What is White?

What is White?

Inspired by Mary O'Neill

Written By Janelle Spiers

White is a snowflake

Falling down to the earth,

A six-pointed treasure;

Frozen birth.

White is sweet, lighthearted mirth.

White is ash,

In a cold fireplace

White is a doll

White is a pawn,

A fox, a bright sky,

A flying swan.

The sound of white is

“Purr! Purr! Purr!”

A sleepy cat

With soft, sleek fur.

White is pure – 

A wave of grace,

It washes o’er

And sins erase.

  

White is a hymn

And piano keys,

A clock, a rock, an ocean breeze

White is a carol

Sung by a choir,

Melodic voices

Filled with strong fire.

White is a ball gown

And a jar of glue.

White is a gift,

All for you.

White is hope:

A quiet appeal

Tearful prayers

On our knees we kneel.

Think of old photos

And bright city light…

Puffy clouds, sugar cubes,  

If they couldn’t dazzle with

White…

What Is Green?

What is Green?

Written by Janelle Spiers
Inspired by Mary O'Neill

Green is a pinwheel 

Spinning light in the breeze,

A child’s bright plaything

Dancing with ease. 

Green is a forest of trees. 

Green is sprouts, 

Coming up in the dirt. 

Green is a lime 

Green is a fly, 

A gem, a lush lawn, 

A blinking eye. 

The sound of green is 

“Swish! Swish! Swish!” 

Wind blown through leaves; 
A secret wish. 

Green is greed –  

A spreading blight, 

It wants a prize 

With terrible might. 

Green is lettuce 

And old moldy cheese, 

A sock, a book, and grass-stained knees.

Green is a romance 

Blissful and fair; 

A gardener’s pride

In the open air. 

Green is a basket 

And a bumpy toad 

Green is a race, 

Down the road. 

Green is joy: 

A patch of rich soil, 

Unfurling leaf, 

Repaid for hard toil. 

Think of landscapes 

And sights you have seen… 

Hard jade, lucky clover,  

If they couldn’t immerse in 

Green… 

What Is Red?

What is Red?

Written by Janelle Spiers

Inspired by Mary O'Neill

Red is a candle

Glowing softly with light

A warm, dancing figure;

Flame in flight.

Red is a high-flying kite.

Red is love,

Passionate and romantic.

Red is a rose

Red is a dream,

A hat, a feather,

A chilling scream.

The sound of red is

“Beat! Beat! Beat!”

An infant heart

So faint and sweet.

Red is death –

A bleeding heart,

That starts to tear

Loved ones apart.

Red are rubies

And ripe strawberries,

Apples, tomatoes, and cherries.

Red is emotion

Tender and true

A happy ending

Given to few.

Red is a racecar

And a plastic cup

Red is a game

Don’t give up.

Red is life

Frail crying at birth

Full, well-lived days

Laid back in the earth.

Think of embraces

And wounds that have bled

Nail polish, late sunsets

If they couldn’t glimmer with

Red…

What is Blue?

So, I have to admit, I am on a Color-Themed Poetry Spree.  This poem is in the same format as my, What Is Gold? poem, and I plan to have a whole rainbow posted pretty soon.  (Yes, I am aware that gold is not in the rainbow, but it could be, and I think it would look pretty good...)

What is Blue?

Written by Janelle Spiers 

Inspired by Mary O'Neill

Blue is a sapphire

Concealed well in a stone

A treasure forgotten

All alone.

Blue is a breaking heart’s moan.

Blue is cold,

A biting wind, sharp and cold.

Blue is a song

Blue is a car,

A lake, a clear sky,

A dying star.

The sound of blue is

“Dong! Dong! Dong!”

A death knell rings

A mourning song.

Blue is bliss –

A gentle day,

Without a care

Happy and gay.

Blue are berries

And a pair of jeans,

The banner of rich kings and queens

Blue is a feeling

Bitter and sweet

So melancholy

You feel defeat.

Blue is eye color

And watching the news

Blue is a risk

Win or lose.

Blue is lost

Beauty to be found

A peacock plume

Lying on the ground.

Think of what picnics

And rainbows can’t do

Bright parties, rolling waves

If they couldn’t glow bright with

Blue…