"Thirsty": a poem by by Oksana K., 17, Canada [Editor]
breeze clingingly swings sky: grey and gold, and not a mollecule of it has forgotten harvest overflows onto her feet lift up my face; her eyes turn to follow the wind's transparent tracks; break the storm like bread over me to remember where the soul belongs, is she, and the spirit that inhabits all the lives Describe your writing process.
from the tips of the stray
strands in her braids; unkempt.
she entertains little
shipwrecked ghosts of thoughts
as minutes fly on the drafts between
the windows open in her mind.
clouds collide in the pulse of the wind
meeting, passing, melting into
a directionless sea;
an expanse
that feels almost like stillness
and almost like infinity...
the dust it was drawn from
on that creation morning.
there they will all return.
and while she wanders here, forgetting,
the very stones cry out...
as she passes by, but her hands
remain empty.
yet something must have stirred,
for, tentative, a prayer emerges --
silently she speaks,
let the wine pour --
drench me in your sacrifice, my salvation,
overwhelm me --
wash the very shadows out from under my feet
and teach me
so thirsty
for the golden-gilded pages
she reads each morning,
for the red letters, and all those numbers,
that You've whispered in between its lines.
I try to give myself as much freedom as I can when writing. I don't usually start with any preconceived ideas of the finished product -- I just find something that catches my attention and elaborate on it. Sometimes, I'll bring out my box of magnetic poetry (I have a couple of hundred words) and sift through them until a certain thought or phrase stands out to me. Other times, it's a story, a picture, a song... some idea or sentiment that snags in my mind; and I can't forget about it until I've unravelled it, put some context to it, connected it with some "bigger picture." Since I don't really filter what I write, most of my first drafts are bulky and messy, but I prune them down as I edit. And often, in the midst of that, I see a potential pattern, theme, or moral, and alter the poem as needed to bring that theme to the forefront. But not all of my poems have a main idea -- some are just a collection of beautiful images, and it's up to the reader to interpret and respond to them as they will. I like that, too -- I like the writer-reader collaboration that poetry allows for.
What is your favourite poem?
I adore "White Birds" by Yeats, as well as works by Frost, Angelou... I love a lot of modern poems too, but I can't list any off the top of my head except those by Akiane Kramarik. I don't really read work by famous poets, though; I much prefer the work that people my age post on the internet -- there are some real gems out there that a lot of people, sadly, miss because they prefer the work of the rich and famous. Song lyrics, too, can be very poetic; if I didn't know they were meant to be sung, I could read Brooke Fraser and Jon Foreman's lyrics as poetry, and never know the difference.
Describe your style.
I think of my style as a sort of kaleidoscope -- I try to shift from one image to the next, taking readers through a journey of different (and often unanticipated) ideas and metaphors. I'd also describe my poetry as somewhat enigmatic.
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