Strung Together (I Know You Know)

So the name of this blog is Secondhand Smoke Poetry...The whole idea behind it actually comes from one of my favorite bands, Brand New. They have a song called "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot" and there's a line in the song that I just find absolutely beautiful.

"Spring keeps you ever close, you are secondhand smoke.
You are so fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins
Holding onto yourself the best you can,
You are the smell before rain,
you are the blood in my veins."

Quite honestly, I find that music, this band in particular is my inspiration for a lot of what I write. Because of this, I wanted to title this poetry blog something that inspires me. and that's how "Secondhand Smoke" came about.

Here's a poem called Strung Together (I Know You Know). This poem is about my friendship with my best friend...it's unlike an friendship I've ever had and she just means so much to me. It was funny actually because I entered this poem in my school poetry contest and won third place. She had read it several times but never seemed to realize what it was about. About a month later, her mom read it and was like, "Awww that's adorable it's about the two of you isn't it?" And of course I told her yes, and my best friend was shocked, and read it again because she didn't even realize it. For my birthday that year, she painted me (she's an amazing artist) a beautiful painting with the words of the poem decoupaged onto the canvas. All in all, I'd say this poem has some pretty strong memories infused into the words.

If you're speechless, forget all words,
Forget the rhythm of sentences and the flowing of rhymes
Just keep our memories hung, dangling from your ears
so that they're halfway between your heart and mind
And like the notes of a chord, we're strung together,
can't play one without the other
and when played, a beautiful melody is formed
as if to say 'from this view the world is perfect.'

Can you hear me?
I know I'm speaking quietly,
whispering down the frequency
but without another word,
I know you know.
It's all found in the motion of eyes,
the gesture of a smile
I know you know.

With the slightest reassurance that you're near
I'm ready to face the world head on
Because it seems no matter the difficulty or challenge
or even the distance needed to travel,
you're still as close as you are when we're standing side by side
It's a reminder of the laughter lingering on our lips
The more jokes told, the more memories made
and the more I've realized what the 'best' in front of a word really means

Can you see me?
I know at times I'm not in view
and the words I'm speaking aren't clear cut
but without another glance
I know you know
It's all found in stifled laughs
that we make at essentially everything
I know you know.

Regardless of the paths our futures hold,
all the twists and turns on crooked lanes,
the one thing that will help ease the abrupt stops
is that together we'll be going forward in a straight line
And our shoulders will have each other for company
and still will as we grow older
And we'll look up to the stars and listen for crickets-
A harbinger of a life lived to its fullest.

Can you feel me?
I know there are times I'm hard to read
and just talking can be frustrating
but forget everything else
I know you know
It's all found in the squeeze of a hand,
the punch of an arm
I know you know.





By the way, I realize these first few poems have been a bit long- I'll get some shorter ones in here soon :)

Sinking Ships

I never truly saw myself as a blog writer...quite honestly I don't know what I really have to say that anyone would like to hear. I'm just a normal college student, with thoughts, feelings and ideas..the exact same that most people feel. However, unlike many of my peers today, when something happens to me or I feel something strongly, I write about it. When I was younger, I tended to write stories..short stories about like..cats that chase mice and then end up befriending them. But thankfully, I've grown and expanded way beyond silly little stories like those. Instead, I've become a poet. I love the way words sound when they're juxtaposed together in a certain way. And I love the feeling I get when I feel as though I've taken an idea or a feeling and expressed it in such a unique way that anyone could understand what I'm trying to say. That's why I write poetry, and this is what my blog is about- to share my poetry with you lovely readers, if I have any readers that is. Regardless, here I'll post some of my favorite pieces of poetry and give a window into the inner workings of my head.

The poem in this poet is titled 'Sinking Ships.' It was written after I realized a certain person I was close to really wasn't the person I had thought. They had told me they wanted to change but really, they weren't changing at all... It's pretty self-explanatory, I think. My poems are usually really simple and easy to understand- all they are are just my emotions pressed into words. Writing for me, has become a sort of catharsis for every sort of feeling I have, no matter good or bad, so because of that, the sort of things I write about are easy to relate to and understand.

Out late nights with friends you barely know
Back when, you would have call yourself a cheat,
and I admit, I agree.
I’m almost impressed
by your lack of self-respect,
but I’m far too busy appearing to be busy
to give you any satisfaction.
I’m working out the minute kinks now;
bending and folding will no longer
distort the signals our wires create.
But I’ve noticed you’re just one giant knot.
You’re chest is slammed shut
and mine, forever open wide.
The infinitesimal details will be analyzed
at the scene of the crime,
though you may run.
But you’re trying to be the better man.

If I was meticulous and proper,
the conversation would have materialized in my sleep.
The escape routes would have been found
and roped off or blocked.
But your false teeth gleamed
no indication of a tirade, so here we lay,
unconvinced and partially shattered.
For you, to care is to be redundant,
so you’d rather sever what you’ve kept intact.
It’s too arduous to let hope float,
while your ship is down river,
and you’re lost upstream.
You prefer to solve these types of problems quietly.
Anyone else is only a hindrance,
or maybe an eyesore for a short period,
then cast out to sea.
But you’re not trying to be the better man.

A whole eight days since and I
still haven’t been able to share how
I’ve considered you to be most interesting,
despite being less than the standard I expected
you to uphold.
It was what you always struggled to express
in your over-indulgent punctuation.
So now my coat is off, and I’ll turn slightly to face you,
get a better glimpse so I can erase
the character with your name I constructed
to make an adventure out of my dreams.
And he is now replaced with you
and all your considerable traits.
Reality should never be masked if I’ve
learned anything; it’s one helpful hint
you might take to the grave.
But you’re not trying hard enough to be the better man.