Writing Samples: Chicago

I told you not to hold your breath for poetry. It’s about a month into the blog, so again, I hope you haven’t been holding your breath.
Today is actually Preppy Bohemia’s first month out there, so that’s exciting. I figured to celebrate, I should actually put some writing out there. I think it’s kind of funny that my first creative writing sample is actually a piece of poetry. In my defense, it is prose poetry. I’m really not much of a poet. Anyway, I thought I’d get away from the personal essays for a bit.

This poem was inspired my a spontaneous trip to Chicago to see a concert. It was a beautiful night filled with friends and music and chai. I was in the final stretch of my senior thesis project when one of my dearest friends threw out this concert as an option. I got out of work early and three of us ran out of Grand Rapids for a beautiful night. It was a rainy night in April and as we left the concert, the city was encased in a fog that made everything look soft and glowing. From this, I was inspired. The poem is copied below.
My first instinct is always to run. Hardness comes with age, and time, and hurt, but that was not 
why I wanted the road beneath me. Sometimes it just gets so damn difficult to think of how 
to breathe. I slam my fists down on the desk and push my chair back and look to the ceiling 
and sigh whatever words God will listen to first. I think about walking the gray sidewalks 
surrounding silver buildings like moats, watching the lake in the distance between the steel
towers. There is freedom in the skyscraper jail – the anonymous nature of the suburban serf
hiding in the wealth of State St. In a bar on the north end, the mandolin plays the song I listened 
to while avoiding life, overwhelmed by the requirements of adulthood. And wheeling down 
Lakeshore Drive, watching the field of lights, ripe for the harvest, I return weary to what I 
promised. The hardeness is gone for maybe only the three hour drive. But it was the song that 
made the stone melt and the hole grow through its cracks. The water that fell on us as we ran 
from the concert to the car helped the seed to grow and settle and root me to what I swore.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s