Elegy

Hey there! So here's the elegy I wrote for my Creative Writing class. Sadly, I did not manage to work in a reference to flowers as per Professor Sexson's request. However, there's about a million references to our class discussions in there, so hopefully that will make up for the lack of flora.

Ganago

My name is Joseph, as was his, my Dad’s

father, who died of colon cancer back

before I was born. So what’s in a name?

Two men at least; I’m sure my Dad is certain.

Of course, I’ve known others, and Dad has as

well.

            Still.

One might ask if I have what he lacked.

Grandpa Joe was a sniper in Korea,

A color blind red head with a purple

Heart; did he think he’d make it out alive?

Strangers get named the same thing.

Ideas

Flow through me that can’t be mine. These circles

Connect; the conduit comes from outside.

Echo; is there something that I’m missing?

I swear I’ll try my best to keep listening,

But all I hear is my heart beat; if it’s

Missing wisdom, it’s a drum roll and a

Crash. There was a wormhole in the apple;

We can either panic or laugh.

My laugh

Sounds like my father’s; does his dad’s complete

Some Liminal symphony? And my son?

Do the multitudes only echo one?

My older sister told my younger self

Never touch a butterfly’s wings only

Seconds too late. Dust on my hands, did I

Wonder then, how far Monarch’s must fly?

 Help me,

what strange angels must sweeten their wings?

Young hands glistened with the death of a king.

“Do it right the first time.” Is it right now?

What is this place? And is there’s a way out?

Dirty water, heavy water; take me.

Make butterflies rise from electric mud.

Ocean minds swimming under ocean skies,

Push through me, ripple; I surrender to the tides.

To the thunder, the lightning, and the blood.

To love – keep me humble; a drop in the sea.

Joseph Schadt

 I realized that is not actually my first poem to be heavily influenced by this class. So here's two more!

Nobody Knows

Organs malfunction, or so I’ve been told.

Maybe someday I’ll know what

the hell is going on down here.

Snarl if you like strangers, go ahead.

My brain’s no sharper than my canines, and

these days I like to know if I’m dreaming.

Howl! Holler! Gorilla, beat your chest!

They say there’s God in every breath, so

how long should I hold mine? My heart beats;

Love is dangerous.

Listen, there’s a rhythm; stomp your feet.

Gravity; My toes dangle off the edge.

Planets move. I dance like I have an old soul.

What substance is foundation and what matters

when it falls?

Joseph Schadt

 This one was a great "what are the odds" moment.  The day after discussing our dreams I was assigned to write a poem based around the topic of fire. 

Rumble

An ancient flame burns deep, burns blue.

Consumes my spine, a fuse in truth.

And it is here I find myself

Looking. Again. Still listening.

Behind perception, outside my soul,

There is a name I used to know.

The dragon’s fire, my curious glow,

I hear him rumble down below.

My heart is owned by silly things.

My dreams are his, my life his dreams.

Wake me, shake me, unleash my sound.

Sharp claws lift me high off the ground.

My ancient brain, my strangest friend.

It’s time, I fear, to change again.

My lungs inhale, evolve, exhale.

Outstretch my wings and whip my tail.

Joe Schadt