It Can’t Be Helped | Poetry Breakdown

Hello everyone,

It seems like April showers came early this year. Hope you’re staying dry!

It Can’t Be Helped

I’ve been having so much anxiety lately.
Blood-thirsty craving for a stop,
instead of just pushing through.
I’m a student and I’m not allowed to stop.
If I do, then I’ll fail, causing a larger pause within itself.

Fill me up with medications.
Give me all the holistic remedies.
Lay your hands on me.
Hold me tight and promise to never leave.
Everything eventually fades,
it just can’t be helped.

Spill out onto words,
carry around lists and lists of half-dreams,
incomplete-dreams.
Let the world see your struggles
boldly and truly,
but you’re just a pile of words
constructed together to match and make sense.

Listen to my rhetoric,
feel my moist cheeks.
Understand the word choice,
feel my rapid heart rate.
Hear the rhythm, the steady counting,
feel my non-linear thoughts.

I suffer from your problems
and mine as well.
I carry them on my back, secured with a zip tie.
With each step I take,
I crumble further into the ground.
It can’t be helped.
If I fail, a larger pause will carve a deeper hole.
It can’t be helped.

It’s tough being a student. More or less, things are tough. This poem is about a small push towards hope and perseverance. Usually these more hopeful poems are more dramatic with an introduction of deep failure and then rising up to soar in the skies. There’s nothing wrong with those poems. Sometimes they can be a little unrealistic especially if each day is difficult for you, you might as well celebrate the small things. Good job you got out of bed! Congrats you brushed your teeth! That’s amazing, you went outside! From there, you’d have the courage to do larger things. 🙂

There are a bunch of layers and voices in this poem. I like to look at it like they’re all stacked on top of each other until it fizzles out into, “It can’t be helped.” When you’re hurting there’s always a need to find remedy whether from ingesting something into your body or helping others. This poems mostly focuses on writing with emphasis on releasing the piece and the styles in the piece and how it relates with the overall emotion of the narrator.

In my case, I write to help myself control my emotions, but sometimes when I publish my work, I get a little self-conscious or even the opposite, left out in the open. I learn to deal with my own critic, but I’m an artist, so my work is never good enough especially if it’s a dumping of my emotion.

Anyways, keep pushing through.

Thanks for reading!

Alice

L’enfer, C’est Les Autres | Quick Piece

She drooped her head and let her dirty blond hair touch the desk. “What’s wrong?” her friend asked, ducking under her head and tried to peer at her. “I got an 82 on my test.” she said with a voice full of sorrow. She sniffled and pushed away the test. I had to force myself to not roll my eyes. I looked down at my test and saw a glaring red 35. “Yeah, you’re stupid too.” I mentally told my test. I walked over to the pencil sharpener and deliberately made sure to pass her desk where two more people counseling her surrounded her. I threw her a nasty look, but she was too busy telling her pity story to even notice. As I ground the pencil into the sharpener, I wondered what it would be like if she had gotten my 35 instead of her 82. I smirked and walked back to my desk and felt the grade boring a hole into me. I shoved it into my backpack and waited for the class to end.

All day in my classes, I couldn’t stop thinking about her stupid reaction to a decent grade, how her face was red and puffy just like the red marks scribbled all over my page. When I came home from school, I crumpled up the test and tossed it into a corner of my room. I opened up my French notebook and took out a worksheet that the teacher handed out to help us practice the future tense. To be, to have, to eat. It was an endless list of verbs that we needed to conjugate. My eyes started blurring and the verbs started to shift. To maim, to stab, to kill. I furiously rubbed my eyes, but the verbs stayed the same. I scanned further down the page and saw, To kill, to torture, to burn. I crumpled up my assignment and the next day, my teacher scolded me. I looked to my left where she usually sat, but she wasn’t there which was odd because she never missed a day of class. My teacher handed out more worksheets to practice the imperfect tense and when I reached for my pencil, my hands were stained with a crimson red. The verbs on my sheet read, to be fulfilled.

Unconfined Thoughts 10

In elementary school, the student with the 64 pack of crayons was the most popular. It didn’t matter if you got a 90 and they got a 100 because in the end, if you could play tag with me without being a baby, then you’re my friend. I’ll even let you borrow some of my crayons. Everything changed when we started to study multiplication in third grade. Whoever got the most right and whoever moved through the times tables the quickest was deemed the smartest person in class. The ones who struggled bonded together and those who raced ahead whispered together, refusing to tell anyone of how they rose so fast. I was struck by how slow I moved on certain times tables and how quickly I could surpass some, leaving me too fast for those who struggled and too slow for those already at the ten times tables. I wondered if I could gain some insight from my friend who was moving onto the twelve times table, but all she did was shrug and started practicing. I shut my mouth, sharpened my pencil and found myself making enemies with the seven times table.
In eighth grade, my school offered high school classes that were a lot harder than the typical science and math classes. Because of my above average placement (my hard work) managed to get me into those classes, I found myself sitting with my classmates I envied for their speed. I wondered if I could still fit in because I’m here among them, but they had already had the time to bond together. Throughout the year, I found my assignments graced with bright red Fs and number grades never higher than 75. I retreated more within myself and refused to earn points with my voice. The labs spit at me and I spit back at them. I was ashamed about how quickly I was able to come up with numbers and responses.
By the time I was a senior in high school, I had become complacent with the red marks I earned. My heart only ceased in fear when I only had one opportunity left to actually make an impact. I felt like the president with all the power under my nose, but it was only until the last day of my term did I realize how much damage had been done and how little power I had left. Yet, my classmates continued to only look upon each other and whisper their secrets. I saw how they exchanged papers, the student who actually did it gloating in their quick popularity. I saw “study groups” that were full of complaints and critics of the teacher themselves, as if they were above the ones who graced them with knowledge and they complimented it with their skill to cheat. I heard remarks to those who put too much energy in their regard and managed to earn full marks. They called them “Try-hards” because they tried too hard. They tried so hard that they had defeated those groups and those groups hated that. Once again, my past echoed my life and I found myself hissing and spitting at not only my papers, but my peers. I showed them that I wasn’t a try-hard, but I also didn’t have their intellect to be with them. I showed myself that it was easy to not fit in. Was I fine with it? Sometimes I just wanted my papers to not scream and bleed.
It wasn’t until junior year of college did I realize how capable I was especially now that my work benefited my future. It was as if I had been handed the most powerful weapon in the world and I finally figured out how to turn it on. Of course I tried hard. What else would I be doing?

Written: 11/18/16 4:36pm

Tour Groups | Poetry Breakdown

Hello!

I’m back again! Sorry about the month long delay of everything. Things were getting hectic and school started, so I’m getting back into the swing of things. Here’s a poem called, “Tour Groups”. The ironic thing is that I’ve had this in my drafts for a week. How’s that for being back!

Tour Groups
When I was little,
college students were the coolest you could get.
They were the smartest people in the world
and I could never understand whatever they talked about.
I could never be with them anyways because
they were taller
smarter
prettier
cooler
than I was

They told me to dream big
and to hold my head up high
Their hollow eyes and
wide smiles confused me
They seemed so cool far away
but up close they were scary

I did as they were told
and as I got older
my dreams wanted to slip away
and I glanced up at them
and their smiles were glowing

I shut my ears because
I was certain they deceived me
I furiously wrote down numbers
where letters should be
and heard my name next to theirs
My dreams fell through the cracks
and I couldn’t stop and stare
and wish that I never saw them again

Now that I’m in college
I look upon you with affection
but I can’t help but let my pains shine through
because it’s the truth
I don’t want you to know
but you’ll find out
I tell you to follow your dreams
and to not give up
because you’re going to need the strength
I found too late.

I thought this poem would be appropriate for this time of the year even though I wrote it in May. Juniors and seniors in high school are busy looking for their next college and they come whenever possible. You can immediately tell whenever there are tour groups because of the parents anxiously walking along the bored kids following a fellow student. They take up a lot of space and they eat all our food and they’re usually identified by the merchandise our school gives them. I take pleasure in making fun of them. (Take note: I’m not always cruel like this because I know exactly how they felt.)

This poem is an ode to high schoolers going to enter their next stage of life. It’s a big step and I’m sure when those high schoolers are touring my school, they are most certainly looking at me, watching me carefully to see how I function in the collegiate society. All I can think is to not make a fool of themselves and that I’m going to be late if I’m stuck behind this group. All jokes aside, this transition can be difficult.

I wrote this poem to mimic the inner monologue of a college student whenever they see them going through this transition. It’s like a reflection and message to high schoolers that college students aren’t as far ahead as you may think we are.

The first stanza starts off by having the narrator reflect on their childhood and always admiring the college students. They always seemed to be the smartest and best kind of people. From the first stanza, begins the comparisons. Then, the second stanza continues by speaking from the college students who talked to the narrator with inspirations. By the end of the poem, these inspirations became the motivation for the narrator.

In the third stanza, the tone starts to change. There’s a quick transition in time, but there was still the innocence the narrator had from the beginning . And from the fourth stanza, the narrator starts to get discouraged since things aren’t going as they imagined it to be. They’re struggling in school and they start to really envy the student and wonder if they can even get up there.

The final stanza tells the truth behind the college student’s perspective and reasoning, but instead it’s the narrator. The cycle is completed.

This poem is pretty personal because it pretty much goes through how I felt throughout my academic career. I titled it tour groups because of the prospective students looking at school. Although they may be blocking sidewalks, too young and too curious for our liking, college students had to go through the same thing. There shouldn’t be a hierarchy even though it seems like we should because of what we’ve been through. There should simply be encouragements because of the difficulties that will soon to come to the student. We keep them ignorant because we don’t want them to get hurt so quick. Personally, I take fault in the false image I give prospective students, but they will learn soon.

I hope you enjoyed this piece!

Expect more soon! 🙂

Alice

To Future Seniors

Dear future Seniors,

I must congratulate you because you deserve a commemoration for going through one of the hardest years. This year was hard for you because you had to deal with the start of important decision making that will set you through life. You had to take a bunch of tests in which numbers deemed how you were academically. Just so you know, you are all much more than numbers. You are amazing people with a unique purpose in the world. I’m sure you’ve heard that plenty of times with different wording, but it is true.

I’m going to be blunt and say that your senior year is going to be just as hard, but in the end, things will be worth it. Isn’t everything always worth it in the end? As long as there are no regrets. The main goal of your senior year is to be happy in the end. Don’t even worry if you can get a job with your major or if you can get into the university of your choice with your essay. Follow your dreams, even if it’s far fetched. This is your chance to say “This is what makes me happy and I’m going to go for it.” You don’t want to miss the opportunity.

When you’re in the middle of your college application essay and nothing, not even a cheesy joke or a cliche comes to mind and all you want to do is give up, make that not an option. Write those 650 words. The 650 words is your life story. It is pretty much the only personal thing the college will have that will make you separate from everyone else. If you don’t know who you are, never fear because it takes a while to know yourself. Just be honest about it in your essay then. Write about your journey in finding yourself if you must, but don’t let the reader know too much of your confusion or they will become a slightly confused as well. In your essay, write it like you are a proud owner of your life. Aren’t you glad to be alive?

When you’re in the middle of class and running around outside just seems so much better than sitting in cold hard chairs remember that you’re not going to be in that very chair much longer. Colleges like to see that you sat through the entire school year even after you’ve deposited and you’ve already bought clothing from your college. They would like to see that you have commitment at your own school and that you would apply that to college. You will be able to run free. Soon.

When you’re sitting at home with piles and piles of homework on your shoulders, remember what you’re doing the work for. I suggest that you have motivation just how athletes strive for a fit body and or a faster time. Strive for your best.

Quick story:  I run track and there were many times where I found it extreamly hard to go forth with the practices because I could never catch up with the others. I was always behind everyone by nearly half a lap. Yet, I pressed on and I decided that I wasn’t competing with my own teammates or with other people. I didn’t care about that anymore because I knew I tried and that was my peak. Yes,I was very proud of my teammates and I wanted them to do their best, but I knew that they were not my source of motivation. Instead, I raced myself. I wanted to try and improve my times by seconds or milliseconds even. I wanted to try to jump as far as I could. It was the factor of trying.

If someone says “you’re not trying hard enough.”, don’t listen to them because only you can determine how hard you are trying. There is no such thing as a “try-hard”. Just don’t give up.

When you are having difficulties in balancing between fun and studies, just remember that a break is needed every once in a while. It is not advised to slack off every day and it is also not advised to work until the light of day for a continuum of time. In order to have the good amount of fun and do your work effectively, procrastination is not an option. I am well aware of senioritis because I have fallen ill to it many times. And the next day, I regret the many YouTube videos I’ve watched because I am exhausted. All the future seniors should know what I’m talking about. Don’t give in. Please. Getting the adequate amount of sleep has higher priorities than rushing to beat the sunrise and slapping on a thing composed in the wee hours of the morning.

When you find yourself signing yearbooks and it’s warm outside, congratulate yourselves because you did it! You made it through thirteen years of schooling. Even though it may be hard to believe it, it has happened. Just keep telling yourself that this is what hard work is and this is where it got you. Everything is worth it and everything has its reasons. Yet, I advise you to not completely drop everything and sprint to the college life. Besides elementary school, you spend the most years in high school. Middle school was like a trial and error stage. Well, you made it past…that!

Don’t forget about your friends. Try your best to catch up with them. They were the ones who shaped the early stages of your life just as you done for others. Friends are precious. Keep them close to you. I realize you can also meet great people outside of high school years, but keep your first bunch of friends close to you.

Don’t forget about your teachers. They instructed you and filled your minds with knowledge. When you were in school, that didn’t seem very appealing, but you will soon come to appreciate all their hard work when you realize that they also went through the same thing as you did- the applications and the hard schooling only to come back and teach generation after generation of students. Plus, we are very privileged to have teachers and a proper education system in the United States because there are other counties who have to fight for their education.

 

And so, this is all I have to say. I hope you try to abide to some of them, yet of course, they are only a suggestion. Take heart. You’re almost there. Don’t give up.

 

Enjoy your summer.

Alice