Dun Dun Dun Dun! (Like from Superman or something)

I have a dream.  That one day this nation will rise up and live out...

Jeannie that is not your dream!

Well. No. But I mean, had I been alive at the time I sure hope that would've been my dream!
But you see, this is beside the point. We're so far off topic I don't even know how to get back! I left bread crumbs and everything to follow back. Well not so much bread crumbs as I left bits of dirt and leaves in my wake to help me get back to the start.

Jeannie. You realize we are in the forest and that is literally pretty much the only two things that forests are made up of. 

So I'm not going to find my way back even if we hadn't gotten so far off topic that I don't even know how to get back?

No.

There's no hope?

No.

Well. Seeing as there is no hope, why not share a story!
Everyone gather round. Please. All the woodlin creatures and all. The trolls and goblins. And...wait. Is that Rumplestilskins? 

JUST STOP.

Okay. So I don't really have a story. It's just 1:00 am and I can't seem to find the energy to get to sleep. (How's that for an oxymoron. Eh?) I have class in t-minus 6 hours, so I figure, why not just get ready for it. Do my hair. Put on a little make-up. Shave my legs. Write a pulitzer-prize winning novel. Maybe even bring my old dog Rudy back to life. (*sudden inale* Too soon. Too soon)

Boy who am I kidding. That's preposterous! Six hours won't be enough time to shave the hair I got on my legs. 

In practice, we have to grab a partner, sit across from each other, and stretch each other's calfs. By doing so, you push and pull against each other. Naturally, I take this to be a sort of challenge against a willing foe. Kind of like we're in a ring of fire, (the one that Johnny Cash sings of, you know?) and we're battling to the death. 

My trainer walked by and heard my grunts and my "you haven't got me this time. This time. I will be champion!"...s. His only response was. 

"I feel like I could leave you in the woods with only a match and a glow stick and you could entertain yourself for weeks".

And you know what I have to say about that?

Challenge. Accepted. 

Well there you have it.

I did it! I tried to be all deep like. It's a bad mentality, but I feel like poems are suppose to be all meaningful and not really understood by anybody but the author....(okay okay so that's not true, but I hope you all can understand the meaning behind my poems!)

Who knows why we do the things we do. Who knows why I decided to write a poem for every day of the week. 

I DO!  

No you don't inner-emotional-thoughts...no you don't. 

That poetry class I'm taking has really screwed me over. Now I'm all poetically minded and thinking in metaphors and iambic tetrameter and what not. It's a hassle. Instead of just thinking, "wow! It's pretty cold outside today. I can even see my breath!", my mind is all annoying and goes.

The frost upon my window sill

Recalled the thoughts of days gone by

When breath was seen in midnight air

It was the night my lover died. 

*scratches head and crinkles eyebrows* You know. I actually spent a lot of time on those last four lines. Like. 15 minutes. Just to prove a point. 

JUST TO PROVE A POINT. 

Anyways. Maybe I'll do something like it again. But hopefully it's a bit more lighthearted and not so, 

"Here's poetry! Read it and learn of the inner-thoughts that plague Jeannie's mind daily"

Actually that's not fair.

I actually really enjoyed writing these poems. Hmm. Maybe I"ll be a poet. 

I'm a poet

And I didn't even know...

I'm not going to finish that, just to see you all squirm

            

Sundays

Sundays I get lost in music.
I pull the covers to my chin
And open my blinds to stare
Forward into a world only I
          Can really see

It's Sundays when the music sings
Of a world bigger than I know
And as I fall asleep I feel lost
But I feel lost knowing that tomorrow
          I'll feel wise once again

Saturdays

Saturdays I have a lightsaber.
It waits above my bed, day by day
Lying across my Harry Potter scarf
Aching to fight the evil my week
             Has created

So it's on Saturdays I get to
Grab on to the one thing that's
Brave enough to attack my
Anxieties and really let me
            Be a kid again

Fridays

Fridays I'm watchful.
Two elderly men wave hello
Through steamed up car windows
Both wanting to share more words
         But they stare forward

Waiting for the next Friday
Where they'll both wave
Hello through the same
Steamy windows as if last Friday
         Never even happened.
   

Thursdays

Thursdays I feel collegey.
I pretend to laugh at jokes
I don't quite understand then
I sit and do homework
        For hours on end

Until Thursday nights
While doing that never-ending
Homework, I finally understand
That joke and I really laugh
        For hours on end

Wednesdays

Wednesdays I have a laugh rash.
The red, dry parenthesis
That start from my nose and curve
Down to where my mouth stops
         But apparently my smile doesn't

But it's also Wednesdays
That I realize, while my laugh
rash may need lotion, nobody
Can doubt, for a second
         That I don't laugh

Tuesdays

Tuesdays I cross the line.
Well I more leap over it.
But I never look back
Because if I did, I might just
         Regret my leap

See, Tuesdays are when I refuse
To stand still long enough
To acknowledge a line
That I believe was meant
         To be crossed

Mondays

Mondays I feel wise.
Then Tuesdays I remember I'm not
But there's a solid 24 hours
Where I think I can solve
         Any problem

But then Tuesday comes
And I remember what it's like
To have no answers
For anybody
        Not even myself