Graduation
by
Angela Toshner
(Age: 18)
copyright 06-06-2008
Age Rating: 7 to 127
I lay, trying to read
But all I can do is write.
The sound of the clock is deafening,
Never giving me a break from its insanity.
It begins to rain, heavy rain
and the rose across my room
smells so strongly.
A blue and gold tassel hangs off the side of the clock,
reminding me,
This is it,
This is the time.
I bled, I cried, I worked so hard
for the piece of off-white paper
now on my dresser.
Yet all I can think about is,
What is going on?
How did this little girl grow up so fast?
How am I supposed to do this?
Then, a simple, blackened stone whispers,
"Remember your promise..."
And I sleep.
The stone is in reference to an actual stone that sits beside by bed every night. I acquired it at a convention I went to where the speaker, Bob Lenz, asked each of the 700 some teens to pick a stone and make a promise to it in front of everyone that they would make a change in the world.
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Truly interesting, the rest of the story we are able to glimpse through your comments, at the bottom of the poem. Honestly placing this piece into a perfect presentation. (700 stones out making a fresh impact) I love the picture this instills in my mind.
Angela: This is a neat poem from a new graduate. The yellow paper doesn't mean much in our world today, but the promise to that black stone does. Now you need to take the stone and venture on with bigger and better goals. You are blessed to have a rose with aroma. So many of them no longer have the sweet rose smell. Life is like that. Go for the sweet-smelling things. Good job! Dale
Angela - This is a lovely poem. A reminder of how quickly time passes and that with the achievement of each goal, one wonders how, why, and what next. I was very moved by your stone with its reminder of promises made. I'm sure bright, young stars like yourself will indeed positively impact the world. Thanks for this very fine piece.....June
Today must be the day for seemingly ancient and forgotten memories to be birthed anew. Which has nothing, directly, to offer in the way of a comment. Just a thought that everything I'm reading today makes me look back, re-live, re-think, and realize that out of the simplest things, one can find inspiration, achievement, accomplishment, and that all things have value.
Even blackened stones.
The voice in the work is so quiet, but so demanding, it's impossible to ignore. Not overly complicated or filled with difficult language to absorb, but by being so honest and unpretentious, achieves what every writer seeks--an impact on the reader.
My own stone has been gone for many years. Indeed, there has been more than one. And, curiously, each was passed on to someone else who seemed to have the greater need.
Thank you for opening doors that have been closed or only half open. ^^
Welcome !
