Impatience

And that tap tap tapping
Of nails against the desk
Echoes your impatience through
The wide spread walls of an empty room.

As though something could be done
To speed up time
Like your tapping will cause
Someone to realize your importance
And cut you through
To the front of the line

But you are equal
At this moment
To everyone else in this line

A straight class balancing act

In line you are better than no one

So tap your fingers as you might

You are last

You will remain last

Until another - equal - joins the end.

12/22/2014
Riley Welch

One More

Some people are half glasses of water
Now, they can be optimistic
It is their choosing
But you

You are a full to the brim
Overflowing,
Splashing the ground below the cup
Refreshing, cool, pure
Sweet, lovely, full

Like you have too much good within you it cant be contained in such a small frame.

And so you must share it
Along, passed, given away
And this good is beautiful

Just like you.

12/22/2014
Riley Welch

Brief

Emotions are wet

They are sticky and messy

And they don't stay and

They smear themselves down the side of your face

And they run their fingertips along your brain

And they leave you dripping

Messy

Wet sloshed tears running sticky with mucus and dancing down muddled puddles resting at the tip of your nose and chin

Grimy sweat wading along creases in skin

And pooling in damp wrecked habitats

Feeling too much

All at once. 

Emotionless means dry. 

Means very clean cut. 

Means no movement. 

Means no mess. 

Means in the moment there will be no immediate pain or discomfort. 

Because everything will be very neat, 

Very straight. 

Very right. 

Maybe not interesting. 

Or unique. 

But it won't be muddled.

And it won't be messy.

12/23/2014

Riley Welch

Favorite Fridays

The Loser

BY: SHEL SILVERSTEIN

Mama said I'd lose my head
if it wasn't fastened on.
Today I guess it wasn't
'cause while playing with my cousin
it fell off and rolled away
and now it's gone.

And I can't look for it
'cause my eyes are in it,
and I can't call to it
'cause my mouth is on it
(couldn't hear me anyway
'cause my ears are on it),
can't even think about it
'cause my brain is in it.
So I guess I'll sit down
on this rock
and rest for just a minute...

TBird

I've got this thin layer of cellophane

Stretched across my vision. 

Not skewing what I see 

But giving a veil between me and reality.

Like everything I touch sticks with a thin film. 

And I can't necessarily discern what is real. 

Ever trusting and believing. 

Without doubt - never fleeting. 

And if this veil will ever lift. 

I'll feel wide awake.

But today is not that day 

So I'll stay hidden under this thin meshed curtain

Drawing tight the corners of reality

Around all I encounter.
Eagerly.

12/21/2014
Riley Welch

(Thoughts of the day)

And I feel so much lighter. 

I laugh so much faster,

Easier. 

I look for light in everything. 

To counteract

Heavy thoughts. 

But maybe my thoughts aren't so heavy anymore. 

Maybe they lost their weight. 

And with that some worth. 

And that is okay with me. 

12/15/2014

Riley Welch 

Lack of Lighting

A black and white dark wash over a room

Removes color

And makes it dry

And void

And gray dust settles over all the surfaces 

Painting it fair shades

Many

Many

Many

So no one can tell

What is what. 

Within the gray. 

Of the dimly lit room. 

12/19/2014

Riley Welch

Favorite Fridays

I find this weeks poem especially beautiful. The author has asked to remain anonymous. 

I Wouldn’t Know

Is this madness? Is this the sickness they warned me against?

The everlasting search for something magnificently real in this seemingly false world

The words become a blur and the voices cease to exist in this endless maze of never knowing.

Never knowing

If everyone is merely masquerading or if I have become insane

Trapped in this hideous cycle that is human nature, always greedy for something more

Always succumbing to roaring emotions as all sense fades away

Yet in the midst of this swirling confusion, the routine continues

The paperboy completes his route 

The professors teach their lessons 

The students try to get ahead

Tell me, am I mad?

I wouldn't know. 

POEMS FOR COFFEE

This poem is dedicated to my good friend Kevin, who I offered to write a poem for in exchange for coffee during finals week. 

Kevin He, oh, Kevin He
A sweet melodic melody
Of sunshine, spring, and all things sweet

To bring the center of my addiction
Caffeines love is no work of fiction
He'll arrive "in a bit" was his prediction

Poor, poor finals bury him whole
In study, papers - a true book mole
Someone needs to work literary crowd control

But this boy, oh boy, he'll ace those finals
His professors are in great denial
Of his brilliance, no one rivals

And when he crashes through those doors
Coffee in hand, I don't abhor
Like a sweet beverage fairy lore

A great motivator to motor through those words
He'll herd knowledge like a flock of birds
The line between him and genius is blurred

So as I finish these words and wait for my mug
Of sweet, brewed nectar you sip - don't chug
From the smartest dude at UT, Kevin He, what up.

12/10/2014
Riley Welch

Large Bodies of Water

So much history overlapping
On itself
Falling back to familiarity
Over and over
Like ripples in the
Most stereotypically metaphoric pond.
It probably represents eternity
But I guess easy comparisons
Make for universal understanding
So everyone feels included
On the philosophies of
Life.

12/10/2014
Riley Welch

Favorite Fridays

This week's favorite is a piece by Taylor Mali, that is best presented in his spoken form. So below is a video. Below I have included a transcript of the piece. 

What Teachers Make

BY: TAYLOR MALI

He says the problem with teachers is
What’s a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life
was to become a teacher?
He reminds the other dinner guests that it’s true
what they say about teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the dinner guests
that it’s also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we’re eating, after all, and this is polite conversation.

I mean, you’re a teacher, Taylor.
Be honest. What do you make?

And I wish he hadn’t done that— asked me to be honest—
because, you see, I have this policy about honesty and ass-­‐kicking:
if you ask for it, then I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor
and an A-­‐ feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time
with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won’t I let you go to the bathroom?
Because you’re bored.
And you don’t really have to go to the bathroom, do you?
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
Hi. This is Mr. Mali. I hope I haven’t called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something your son said today.
To the biggest bully in the grade, he said,
“Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don’t you?
It’s no big deal.”
And that was noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.

You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write.
I make them read, read, read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math
and hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you’ve got this,
then you follow this,
and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this.

Here, let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
Teachers make a goddamn difference! Now what about you?

Orange Walls

A sudden contentment
Where I can feel all the blood coursing through my veins
In racing synchronicity
With my surroundings
I sit in still harmony
While physically
My body is restless within itself.

It's a relaxing content.

That I can be productive
While doing nothing.

At.
All.

12/1/2014
Riley Welch

Patterned

Circles of circles ellipses
One over another
So nothing is actually in sight
Disappearing behind each other
Appearing as one
But they are many
They are ever infinite
Like looking into a mirror
And seeing yourself repeat
A million times
Off into the distance
But you stand straight on
And you are one.

12/1/2014
Riley Welch

Favorite Fridays

When I heard the Learn'd Astronomer 

BY: WALT WHITMAN

When I heard the learn’d astronomer;
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;
Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

0

And then I was hit by a wave
I was hit by a facade shattering wave
Sadness overtook me and the the spry sparse mist hit my soft cheeks like sprinkling tears
Decorating my face with a hint of red puffy eyes and sad turned lips

And I entered into a circle of melancholy blue
That matched the pattern of the wave that hit me

Its swirly misery dancing in shades on the side of the color wheel
Opposite of where I sat
Bright yellow hands folded in glee

Being pushed farther and farther.
Because of that wave.

11/30/2014
Riley Welch

Mugged Disappointment Part Three

If you've been reading my blog for a little bit, you now know that this is part three in a (what seems never-ending) chain of bad coffee experiences. I will hope this is the last one, but it all depends on the cup. 

I intake a lot of caffeine,
But none ever quite as bitter,
As the solid, opaque liquid,
That made me gag and spitter.

When you receive an iced drink,
You expect to see the ice.
Except from this dark, rich black,
Sparkling from my cup, this does not entice.

My straws ability to suck up the drink is shocking.
And the fact that my jaw isn't locking.

Is this coffee drink not partly water?
Did you forget the ingredients?
How did you land this job?
You are so very disobedient.

My wallet lets out a wimper,
While my blood boils and simmers,
I am now greatly over - caffeinated,
But for this coffee - I don't feel the least infatuation.

So next time I'll buy something sweeter,
Maybe warm, forget the heater.

Until this disappointment fades,
I won't come back another day.

11/8/2014
Riley Welch