Poetry

Dear family and friends,

I am taking an amazing creative writing class and we just finished our poetry unit.  I have never considered myself a poet and was quite terrified to write poetry.  But I have come a long way since then, and although I do not consider myself an expert, I would like to share some of the poems I have not written.  They are not perfect, and may not even be good, but hopefully you can get something out of them.

Peace

Its euphoria trickles

 into your soul and

becomes a light

 that whispers,

 “everything is going to be okay.”

You close your eyes,

not because you want to forget,

but because you want to remember.

You want to channel that feeling

 into your heart,

so that it will seep

 into your veins

permeate who you are,

And you will have it forever.

But you know it cannot be.

Just as quickly as the feeling came,

it is gone,

leaving you with nothing

 more than a memory.

The Door that Haunts my Dreams

On the third floor

of an apartment in Madrid

there is a door.

A real door, made of fake wood

with a brass doorknob placed dead center.

If one were to put the key in the lock,

they would see the scratches—

a sign of the many people that passed through this door.

Upon opening the door,

They would be met with

a cornucopia of memories and emotions:

a handful of devastating ones,

like the wedding that failed;

a basket of sad ones,

like transfers separating companions

or the challenge of teaching a second lesson;

and a flood of joyous ones,

like the excitement after a long day’s success,

or the phone call when he tells you he wants to be baptized,

and the morning study where the perfect scripture was found.

I dream of this door often,

and it haunts me,

because I know I will never see it again.

The Hospital

His lips touching mine

no longer

lingers

with me.

All his memories

have faded

into

a blur.

My husband speaking

“I love you”

takes his

last breath.

Con amor,
S. Olsen