Bubble

December 1, 2008
By Madeleine Collet, Eugene, OR

thunder cracks through the hills
hunger stands on stills
pain is in the air
some don't notice
some don't care

I see pain every day
everywhere i look
there is someone
hungry
someone
cold
someone
sick
someone
broken
someone
sad

there are people on the
corners
begging for money
some guy in a
mercedes hands an old man in a beard
a fake 1000 dollar bill snicker
he doesn't think its funny

the wind blows
i wrap my scarf tighly around my neck
thankful that i know,
that I knew this morning
it would be cold

I clutch the small
silver acorn
that reminds me to stay strong
before this year, i found i was
never wrong
the world is a perfect place
I thought the families in
africa and
india
peru
brazil
china
afghanistan
pakistan
iraq
mongolia
taiwan
indonesia
russia
north korea
south korea
all the koreas

brought it on themselves
I was vain
but my friends were the same

we were trapped in a bubble
a bubble that hadn't popped
until recently
but now that it finally has
my attention has doubled

I watch all the news channels
CNN
NBC
FOX
JFKALSUALSJHFUSALAJSHF

all of them
I crave the knowledge

the world isn't perfect
there is a reason for the pain

without pain
we would have a perfect
world

and that would be utterly
and indescribably
boring


The author's comments:
I am no Nathanial Hawthorne, but I strongly believe in symbolism. Do I believe that all the mumbo jumbo teachers tell you in english class when your tearing the beautiful novel apart piece by piece? No. But I do beilieve that writing what you feel through hidden meanings is what writing is all about. Tell the world straight what you feel is boring- there is no mystery involved. Telling everyone how you feel trough art on the other hand is completely different.
I take pride in hiding things is my poetry,
maybe if you read between the lines, you might figure out my life?
Who knows?

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This article has 2 comments.


s.m.b. said...
on Dec. 26 2008 at 10:16 pm
i thought that was pretty fantastic.

on Dec. 21 2008 at 4:19 am
I believe the beauty in art is that it is left to interpretation. No one can tell you what it really means, because deep down the artist and the writer dont know either


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