sugardeath

This is When it Happens

So there I was, about 20 minutes left after finishing up the Honors English exam in eighth hour, when it hit me.  Inspiration.  I grabbed my notebook and started writing.  Writing what I saw, what I knew, etc.  This is an observation poem of sorts, a poem in which I wrote down things as I saw them happening.  It was amazing.  As I was writing, words were popping into my mind, phrases, whole lines even!  I've never written a poem that I've felt THIS good about before.  Simply amazing.  It's so good, in fact, that I decided against performing Deja Vu for the class and, instead, chose this one!  (Deja Vu included at the end of this post, after This is When it Happens) I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as I do.

This is When it Happens

In these last few minutes,
seconds seem like hours.
Anything could happen,
anything at all.

The question,
however,
is not what will happen,
but whether anything will happen at all.

Looking around,
I see faces wrought in thought,
trying to get the right words.
I see blank faces concentrating
on nothing.

Clicking pens, crinkling paper.
Folded arms, hunched shoulders.
Nothing has happened yet,
and I doubt anything will.

The tick tock of the clock,
the mashing of calculator buttons.
Faces down on the table,
eyes on the floor.

The end is near.
See it in the air.
Hear it in the silence.

Boxes here, boxes there.
Full of books, full of nothing.

Shuffling of papers,
another is done.
Restlessness becomes our friend,
our mother, our father,
easy and cool.

We are one
in thinking we are done.
We are one
in hoping we can go.

All at once, you can hear,
the restlessness of each and every,
of all at once.

It comes quickly,
it comes suddenly.

Just before it is time to go,
that's when it happens.
All at once.

Now for Deja Vu, actually written quite a while ago:

Deja Vu

Deja Vu,
she said.
Walking the familiar path,
talking the familiar talk
we reached a
familiar spot
and she said
Deja Vu.
She couldn't
explain it,
could only
say it,
Deja Vu.
I just didn't
want to say,
the feeling that she had
was shared by all:
The birds and the bees,
the rocks and the trees.
But most importantly me.
Deja Vu.