Sadly, copying and pasting from computer to server/DVD didn't work for a majority of my files. I lost my rhetoric thesis and a lot of poems. What I do have, however, is the beginnings of a poem. It is definitely not finished, but I am stuck in a rut. So, let me know what you think of it so far, and any ideas maybe to help me continue it. I had a note written down about "partials" but I really can't figure out where I would have gone with that.

Music of the Spheres

 

The stars pulsate with the joy of creation,

as bows waltzing lightly on violins.

Vibrant orbs—

kinetically, lightly

resting on their octaves, fifths and thirds.

Hark! the music of the spheres!

 

Our own melodies pale as mutterings.

Mortal pulses prove to be obstacles

in the vain mimicry of worship.

 

But to us, He gifts Salvation…

 

partials

living parable

morning glow lingers
on into price is right hour;
flux honey on cobblestone
left unattended.
the torchbearer irradiates
[un] stained glass
"thunder against the sun," i clamor.

You'll find
me amidst my nocturnal wricks;
sifting through a world
of torn paper smiles,
bruised pillows,
cherry snow--

who wouldn't finger
reamed palms;
sample the blood?

call me thomas.

could i give
(would i give?)
forty days?
(it's never enough)
no, make me a beggar.
regurgitate my pride,
let me taste the bile
of my sins.

Teacher! i am the wealthy, the young.

You authored each life;
absolving each gasp,
each gulp
to the rape of mortality.
here, i placed it in this coffer.
there was nothing more
i could do
and it was safer
this way.

just call me Your unfaithful servant.

This was published in echo, GCC's lit mag so it's been through quite a few edits. Still, I'm always open to comments, etc.

This is an old one... I know it's simple, but I can never quite bring myself to change that. I'm still open to some suggestions, though.

Never Forget Thee
May 2003

Carved in the palms of My hands—
How can I forget thee?
I hear your cries
Long into the night,
I hold you close to Me
And gently dry your tears.
When you laugh,
I smile;
When you grow,
I rejoice.
Do not worry,
Do not fear—
You are my child
And I will never forget thee.
-----------------------------

Isaiah 49: 14-15: But Zion said, “ The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.”
“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget, I will not forget you!”
------------------------------------
“I did not die to leave you here alone.”
~Forgiven and Free lyrics 

I have removed everything but the Phantom Pride speech (as a piece written for a specific time, I don't believe that one should be edited). I will be going through all of my old poems, fixing up the ones that I believe to be salvageable and posting them here. As I post them, I would greatly appreciate any comments that might help me improve them further.

-Diana

Imagine yourself being intimately involved with a perfect performance. The dynamics are impeccable; each note tells its own story. The final cut-off is given and the audience rises
to their feet- mothers cry and a few friends shout your name. As Mr. Britcher would have it, they are thowing babies. The house lights go up and the curtain closes; the feeling at this moment in time is inexplicable and something you wish to cherish always. As you
catch your breath, you realize that one can only hope to accomplish something so impassioned as well as you have this night.

Four years ago I joined this program thinking that all I’d ever be in life was mediocre. I have loved music since my mother sung to me in the womb and taught me to dance and sing for fun. But no one ever believed that I could make a life out my passion for music.
Over the past few years, however, Mr. Britcher, Matt Gallagher and Mrs. Nice have helped open the doors of a multitude of careers in the music world. They have also shown me that I can do it. And I now believe that I will. I could tell you all the times that either
one of them have encouraged me, directly or indirectly, but frankly we don’t have that much time.

They have helped to create one of the most loving atmospheres I have ever been a part of. At times Mr. Britcher may share a few choice words with the parking lot or Mrs. Nice may start threatening to quit altogether because of our riley baritone section, but they never forget to have fun and to have heart. There have been inumerous times that we had to stop what we were doing and just share a laugh for a few good minutes and none of those moments were a waste. I believe that next to music technique this program teaches its students some of the most important things in life: to be an encouragment to
each other, to enjoy what you are doing and to take each task and give it your best--whether we are playing in the multi-purpose room at Schuykill for the reading program or we are singing on one of the finest cruise ships in the nation.

From those first intimidating, painful days of band camp, to getting a timid girl to sing out more and a frustrating year and a half of struggling through performances and daily practices with asthma--they’ve been there with their higher-than-most-standards and
believing that I can reach the ultimate goal; whether I believed in myself or not.

Thank you for four wonderful years. I will always carry my “Phantom Pride” with me, no matter where I go.