If I were, was. Not Public.
This piece is a blossoming hope for me, as it provided myself a feeling of freedom and self-realization. Sometimes, the self, is nonsensical! Silly and un-explainable. This poem feels that way to me, it explains an un-explainable feelings of joy and freedom. A true expression of self in what I would like me to be, if the constraints of society and conventional norms did not prevent such silly joys and outburst of wonder.
Poetry
Tobi Swearingen Third Year, Secondary Education Major
Tobi Swearingen Third Year, Secondary Education Major
If I were, was. Not Public
Was I not in public
I'd roll myself
Wrestle with the sweet grass ground
Like I would a lover in my bed.
I wish to pull over the earth like hotel covers.
Like winning an arm wrestling with a father or uncle at 5 years old.
These moments sweet like the air
Misty dew drops dripping in my lungs
Like the tap, the one that fills the space of an empty bone house. Like myself.
Was I not in public
My socks and shoes would no impede the experience of warm tar
Flossing the cracked cradles of the road
I'd be graceful as a frog,
Slipping and falling as I leap
Knees bent, elbows like featherless wings, protruding
Croaking sonnets for wheat grass and daffodils.
Only for wheat grass and daffodils.
Was I not in public
I'd lick maple leaves
And bathe nude in the pond
Trapping every leaf and flower petal deep in the tangled unbrushed
Untamed hair bellowing from my temple.
I'd recite the alphabet of the weeds and vines
A is for alfeene
B is for beoleaf
C is for that cutie in the corner, growing out of a rabbit hole.
Was I not in public I'd be me.