jpaiva-1
Portuguese
Hello World, / / I'm Jessica Paiva, a typical 20-year-old college student at Humber College studying Journalism Print and Broadcast. I've never thought of the idea of writing poems casually as each day passes by. Poetry is something I can reflect upon, relate to, share my emotions in an open matter. My goal is to write verses that will touch people, making them understand what I'm going through and possibly have them relate to their lifestyle. / / I started writing when I was in grade 11 because I was in the state of misery, and needed a chance to express it. Now, I do take poetry request from people, experimenting on what I can do with my writing style - so feel free to comment, write down a request, and even give me some feedback as i am a young writer and would like to have my poems be distributed to the world. / / Website: : www.jpaivapoetry.tk / / Leave comments and/or poem requests on the "links" portion - I love a good challenge.
So let’s take a look at this story and I’ll tell you my theory.
In Another Country by Ernest Hemingway
You know, that dude you might of heard about back in the day.
Now, I’m not here to give you a plot summary
The purpose is to work your minds with an introductory.
Take a moment, and put yourself in the narrator’s shoes
Going to war and unable to refuse
You’re getting defeated, wounded in the knee
and taken to the hospital in a room full of machines.
He was able to make friends during his stay,
Three officers and a soldier with a handkerchief I must say
A kinship formed between him and the three officers,
So changed from the men they once were,
Sticking together was glorious when sharing the same experience
Especially when the outside world taunt and despises you
Saying quotes in their language once you pass through.
“Down with the officers!” that’s what they would chant.
What would you do, or perhaps grant?
A mock could only reveal a fight, but no you mustn’t, you can’t.
You’re trying to cure yourself mentally and physically
For the war has scarred you, and tortured you, literally.
You know there was always going to be war,
but you don’t want to go to it anymore.
Now, let’s move on to that discussion with the major,
formally known as a stager.
He asked one simple question to the narrator
"What will you do when the war is over, if it is over?"
Ha, never thought one would form a debater.
“I will go to the States,” the narrator straights.
Alarming the major that there must be someone he awaits.
“Are you married?” he replied, hoping for an answer he would side.
A reply that didn’t have the major agree
“No, but I hope to be.”
Now, I’m sure this is the part where you think the man has no heart
When he shouts that one’s a fool to want to marry
A man should never lose the one he marries.
But you see, he was speaking for himself
Trying to cope with his lost and tryna' fix the problem the narrator crossed.
The major’s wife has died from pneumonia,
A death that lasted from only a few days of being sick
The major was torn a part not wanted to look at another chick.
Thereafter, each time he returned to the hospital to use the machines,
he would just stare out the window,
rather than pay any attention to his treatments with all means
Now, I’m not one to know how that would feel
To go back to that scene, only a time machine can reveal.
But, one feels for the narrator instantly
when he uses the form of repetition blissfully.
Or when he feels distant from the officers,
like the first time meeting your long lost brothers.
They were presented with medals for acts of bravery
although he received his as an act of vagary.
For instance, playing a video game, noticing you’re just a newbie
While getting cheap achievements in halo or call of duty
He was injured before he could prove his courage
and lectured through the concept of marriage.
But I’m not here to give you the in depth
Let’s bring it over to Ashley, she has the breadth of the knowledge.
That will help you understand the reason for this course at this college.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 3:55 PM UTC
Sorry,
This isn't a poem itself - though I would like to share to my fellow Hello Poetry poets!
I have created a blog to bring together all talents around the world!May it be poets, musicians, artists, photographers, etc - you name it.
If you want to submit any work please visit/follow:
www.younginspirations.tumblr.com
There's an e-mail address in the blog to submit your talent!
Show your friends / let's make this big!
Your Hello Poetry friend,
- Jessica Paiva
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 6:49 AM UTC
Life endures in loosing and gaining,
backstabbers and supporters.
Whether you enjoy drama in your life and the connection with reporters,
the news you tell them will just be announced for entertaining -
The media all around you,
the friends you thought stood by you.
I’ve been through those obstacles,
the times from when people choose to leave.
When I needed someone most, to listen and not be posted in articles,
all I got were blank responses, not once showing that they believe.
The trust I need towards certain people are now gone,
and that just gives me one strength, to move on.
True friends.
It’s funny how the saying goes,
in time you really discover who your real friends are.
That being said - take a moment, and think;
are the people in your life, the ones you can truly keep?
People who won’t judge or go around talking behind your back?
Around you all you get are stares, now you will know who caused the act.
I want you to open your eyes and see the reality,
I won’t lie or torture you, it’s like one of your family.
You deserve someone who you can trust at anytime,
give or take within every situation, every time.
I believe in you, so I give you permission to converse,
I promise I won’t hurt you - the emotion of feeling your worse.
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 7:52 PM UTC
Heart in my flesh beating rapidly,
brain in my mind constantly turning.
I close my eyes and for a brief moment
a sigh lets out, wanting to only hear
silence.
To ignore all punches that wounded my body.
A hand, life has been capable of creating,
such power, strength and reason.
Life is hard, we all know that.
It’s a given fact we all grow up and learn from.
But the ability of crashing confidence, self-belief,
is torturing our reason for life.
The stress that attaches with the package is outrages;
it shakes my muscles to pieces, the uncontrollable mind.
I welcome myself to a new world and I’m taking you with me.
It is a journey of struggles; not mine, not yours.
But, the existence of time.
I want to hold a fist, and defend myself.
To have reflex on every attack life flashes,
every swallow of terror will dry out.
We will stand tall, the worthless days are over.
I’m demanding, forcing; another punch to my cheek.
The hand – life has created, will form into a fist,
raising just above our eye level, stopping right in front of us.
How blind we were to see, a fist with a lifetime of
problems, stress, disbelief and struggles.
A breath to end all – bring it.
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 6:37 PM UTC
Is there really a meaning as to why
I’m here at this very moment,
The reason as to why I’m here in this place.
Is there a reason why I’m capable
of experiencing different emotions
And overcoming challenges?
Am I in a dream?
A dream where I’m
never really able to
wake-up from?
Am I submerged by my feelings
and incapable of
knowing beyond them?
Am I here for a reason?
Is there a hidden reason that I
Have yet to figure out?
Was I put in this world
to find the true
knowledge of the person
I am now or am I destined to be more?
Am I going to stay
in this very room
asking questions
where I’m unable to find
the true
answer to?
Am I going to wait
until I die
in order to rewind
my whole life back
and rejoice when I
finally figured it out?
But, won’t that be too late,
wouldn’t it be all over when
I’m dead?
Am I just going to question myself?
What is the meaning of life?
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 8:35 PM UTC
Turn on the television,
drive down a major street,
It's everywhere you look;
snaring you into the life of others.
Why should we pick up our pens,
our keyboards,
our cameras,
stating what you think is
and knowing what is false.
Why should we pick up the newspaper?
What good does it do?
When we always turn to gossip,
we're not learning anything new.
Why is this industry
making up stories;
Getting their business' running; yet,
making the lives of others miserable.
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 8:26 PM UTC
I am in your control, in your command.
Trying to open these locked doors you hide me in.
I'm scared, alone and sore.
I take in your slaps like I'm your prisoner,
take in your screams like I'm the entertainment.
You spit at me like I'm dirt, tie me up like its funny.
My body wants to escape, but my mind is telling me not to.
I know you’ll get angry if I do.
It’ll trigger your urge to **** and have me suffer endlessly.
I can’t risk that; can I?
I open my eyes, finding myself in the corner of this empty room.
Four white walls, two doors, and a cold floor.
I see your shadow coming closer to the door in front of me.
Hearing you take out your keys, you turn the doorknob.
I am your prisoner.
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 8:24 PM UTC
I'm here,
just here alone,
laying on this very bed
wishing you were next to me.
Is it so crazy that I
feel your warmth, your arms
wrapped around me.
I smell your scent,
that ongoing cologne,
so unbearable.
Those eyes,
oh wow, those big brown eyes,
just looking down at me.
Is it sad to say that I already
miss you like crazy?
It's only been a few hours,
but all i can hear
are the ticking sounds of the clock
and your whispers.
The pleasures that run through
my very own soul, my body
when you express yourself.
My hands tremble, waiting,
just waiting to feel your skin again.
My lips waiting to be kissed.
Mind spinning like a rollercoaster.
Am I obsessed?
Going nuts? Crazy? Pathetic? Weird?
No.
I lay my head on my pillow, turning to my left,
a smile forced with my lips.
I'm staring at, holding onto, kissing,
what could have been you.
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 8:16 PM UTC
Till death do us part,
those we vowed,
we both promised.
I stayed true to my words,
I loved you,
respected and cared for you,
I worshipped you.
Tore my heart out of my chest,
and gave it to you.
You were my life, my everything.
For you, as well, stayed true,
to those very vows, I wish you haven't said.
You lied, abused every word you 'promised.'
Tortured everyday,
kicked, punched, pushed everynight,
you yelled and insulted at every phonecall.
You stabbed me.
Right where my love for you grew,
my beating heart,
wounded - on my ****** hands.
That very line,
did endure it's title.
Till death do us part,
and so it was.
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 7:52 PM UTC
Sanctuary at its finest.
Locking us together, indulging in our love to grow,
such as the morning sunrise in the month of August
or the spark of a shooting star from its glow.
To the presence of us staying together,
from the love we have grasped into our bodies.
But once you have escaped away, I become the beggar,
running to you, chasing you, from each country, all cities.
You say you shall return to only me,
though those bright days can turn into frightening nights.
Afraid that there would be another, a better, oh who would it be,
a person that shall replace me, a love that will share in better daylights.
My heart sores from the wound of losing my only love,
I sit here under the moonlight for the return, an answer from above.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 4:45 PM UTC