The Unexpected Ways of Love

For poetry class today we talked about love, and how it is a common theme in many poems. Poets have to find uncommon ways to express common themes, ways that avoid cliches. As an exercise, we all had to write down descriptions or feelings or expressions of love that avoid the common cliches. Here are mine:

(Insert something along the lines of "love is" or "love is as" or just figure out how it applies to love and role with it)

like the sea loves to froth

like a pigeon excitedly descending on a few cheerios dropped by an infant in the park 

as a worm loves a piece of fresh fruit

love is like a painting, wild and abstract

as melodious as a baby’s laugh

touching as the final scene in an old black and white film, the ones that always end happily

Like an old brown leaf beneath a bench, not always noticed, but beautiful and persistent. 

jagged edges saw, like the rough edges of a paper, just waiting to slice your finger

sweet and soft and light as pale pink cotton candy you eat at a carnival, but as breathtaking and terrifying as the roller coaster you ride next.

I was reading the newspaper today. There was an article about the Democratic party and their campaign for the upcoming election in November. The article mentioned how many Americans are currently anti-Democrat, due to the financial crisis and the fact that our current situation is not getting better. A few years ago, the general public hated Republicans. Maybe Americans are just fickle? Or they just like to blame all problems on the current party in office? I don't know. 

I started working at the School of Art and Art History today. So far it appears to be a pretty easy and laid back job. I answer phones, make copies, run things over to the Dean's office in Sturm Hall and do homework between tasks. While being shown around the building we walked over to the Annex and looked at the studios. One of the larger rooms was quite spacious and very well-lit. Giant sky lights made up the ceiling, allowing for optimum lighting for the artists inside. Giant wooden easels stood around the room, and over in one corner tables were piled high with old shoes, the subject of a few painter's canvases. It looked very inviting, but at the same time perfectly balanced, as if too much movement would disrupt the peace and stillness of an artist's reverie. 

When I left my final class of the day, the sky was bright blue, filled with huge white clouds that mildly resembled cotton candy. It looked picture perfect. Maybe one day I'll figure out a way to write a not-cliche poem about clouds. Not today though...