Another Rhyme of Mel

I know I haven't been doing very good at blogging this year. I was working on a project last night and wrote this poem. The first part is actually very similar and in some parts the same as I poem I wrote at least a year ago, but the rest is different. 

There once was a girl named Mel
She liked exploring quite well
One day she decided to stay longer overseas
so she moved to Southeast Asia with ease

The culture was very different from her own
and it was hard to be all alone
She met lots of great people
who she found to be her equal

She learned lots of new things
and to her old way of thinking she no longer clings
She took the opportunity to travel to new places
and all the new is what she embraces

She is glad that she was given this chance
to experience more of the world than just a quick glance
She plans to never go back to her old ways
no matter what happens during the rest of her days

She hopes to continue to explore

As to only stay at home is a bore

Her heart now resides in two places

Because she misses her dear friends’ faces

She has been called an old soul

Who happens to like rock and roll

Letters and old movies tie her to a bygone era

She is even named after a character close to O’Hara

She is strong and independent

But not extremely resplendent

Mature, yet hopelessly silly

But better to be that than chilly

Laughing hard brings tears and hiccups

To a girl who owns no pickups

Smiling is something fun to do

It happens a lot instead of feeling blue

To write about one’s self can be a chore

And can be a struggle not to cause the reader to snore

I hope if nothing else this makes you laugh

If not, I wouldn’t hire me to be on your writing staff

If you do like this poem hardcore

I may be willing to do an encore

Although it is not easy

To always be this cheesy  

Rhymes of Mel

There once was a girl named Mel
She liked exploring quite well
One day she decided to stay longer overseas
so she moved to Malaysia with ease

The culture was very different from her own
and it was hard to be all alone
She met lots of great people
who she found to be her equal

She learned lots of new things
and to her old way of thinking she no longer clings
She took the opportunity to travel to new places
and all the new is what she embraces

Even though she left Malaysia
she wanted to continue to live in Asia
The next stop on her journey was Indonesia
she hopes to always remember this time and never develop amnesia

When she returns home she hopes people will see
that she is a new Melanie
She has lots of wonderful things to share
and hopes her friends and family will care

She is glad that she was given this chance
to experience more of the world than just a quick glance
She plans to never go back to her old ways
no matter what happens during the rest of her days

Bali & Purple

We have been working on poetry this week and it has been awhile since I have really sat down an written a poem or two or three. Most of the time I like to start out by handwriting the poems. These are the two I like best so far.  I have done Diamante poems before but since I went to Bali last weekend this one is on Bali.

Bali

hot, sunny

walking, sightseeing, eating

waves crashing at night

shopping, relaxing, talking

peaceful, sandy

Bali

The next one is a color poem about my favorite color. I have written lots of types of poetry before but never a color poem. This is my first attempt at a poem about my favorite color, purple. I had a hard time with this poem. I am not sure if I have written about all the things that Purple is, but this is a good start. 

Purple

Purple is the color of royalty

Purple is sadness when a friendship ends

Purple is a long awaited hug by a loved one

Purple is a piece of fresh baked chocolate cake on the tongue

Purple is the sound of crashing waves on the beach late at night

Purple is the scent of a rose as one falls asleep

Purple is being curled up in a comfy blanket on a cold day

Purple is the purr of a cat curled up on a lap

Purple is the velvety feeling of my favorite dress

Purple is chocolate chip cookies hot out of the oven

Purple is hands on my skin during a massage

Purple is the content feeling after waking from a nap

Purple is the right song playing to go with my mood

Purple is when I am feeling confident and beautiful

Purple is a walk at night in the mountains under a canopy of stars

Purple is dark chocolate melting in the mouth

Melanie

I got this idea from Ms. Paula  http://negotiatingmeaning.blogspot.com/2013/01/a-short-message-and-poem-welcome-2013.html?spref=tw    My Where I am From Poem.

I am from Rapid City

My paternal grandma didn’t want me named Sara Elizabeth

Instead I am Melanie from Gone with the Wind

Mom went back to work part time

when I was 6 months

an elderly couple took care of me

My Dad started commuting to Gillette

Not knowing the strange man (Dad)

who took my Mom’s attention from me on weekends

My Mom decided she didn’t want me to not know my Dad

So we joined him in Gillette

I am from Harder Drive

Attending Paintbrush with two best friends

The 80’s were the best

Even with a broken leg trying to be a trapeze artist

stitches in the back of my head as a spectator at a rock fight

and a brother 6 years younger than me

I am from Clarion Drive

Later known to me by others as snob knob

on the golf course

I picked the Victorian house

with a huge attic and enough room for a cat,

the most awesome Pepper, who lived to be 20.

I am from Stocktrail as my second elementary school

the girl that was picked on every day

The girl who they ran away from in the daily game of “run away”

who admitted I liked a boy and then was made fun in front of the whole lunchroom

who didn’t learn and admitted I liked other boys and was teased

with the suddenly “stick my finger in a light socket” curly hair, no longer skinny,

glasses, nice jewelry, a big house

The girl who was shy

Who was always so nice that people used me

Whose Mom didn’t understand why I would cry

From deciding I would not cry in front of others to

I will not cry

I am from writing letters and pen pals

wanting to tell my story to others

to have friends and loved ones far away

who did not judge me or treat me mean

but in college as I grappled with my identity

letters from a friend hurt me

and we never were the same

I have hung on to those letters for some reason

I still put ink to paper and get super excited

when a letter comes in the mail

I am from books, music (everything but country)

and mostly old movies

the escape from life

the journeys I take in my mind

where no one is mean

the imagination I have built up is so vivid

if I would just write them all down

I think I could be a Stephen King or Dean Koontz

I am from ballet

15 years I was in dance

of costumes and make up once a year for the recital

achieving pointe the week of my 16^th birthday

knowing I will never be a prima ballerina

not skinny or talented enough

struggling to look at myself in the mirror to make sure my body was correct

because it meant looking at me

sometimes being made fun of

but during the dance another place of escape

finally stopping when I was an adult and there were no classes for my age and level

so in a class with teenage girls who didn’t really care and wasted my time and money

drove me nuts, for the first time I wasn’t in a recital

and when the year ended I was done

I still dance for fun around the house

but nothing structured anymore

I am from Sage Valley Junior High and Campbell County High School

where I was still picked on and used

boys still acting like they liked me and then teasing me in front of large groups

Still made fun of for my hair, glasses, average weight, clothes,

and because I didn’t smoke or drink

Still helping people all the time no matter how mean they were to me

from hours spent in the darkroom playing with the images I captured

building up a wall that no one could scale

I am from piano, choir, band and color guard

always hoping I would be a very talented musician

wanting to compose some piece that would speak to people

but always just average

I am BHSU

where I was so unhappy and forgotten most of the time

from wanting it to be the end

but somehow to keep going

I thought at the time that I was protected by an angel

from crushes that just saw me as one of the guys

and asked me to help them with the girls they liked

to the one that wanted to marry me for a green card

and the un-welcomed pressure to be like the rest

to finding my best friend

but sometimes feeling she doesn’t need me very much

I am from heart surgery

surprise since I had perfect attendance 1st-10th & 12th grade

always super healthy

fear by everyone else

death? pacemaker? fixed no problems?

Me, calm thinking if it was time to go it was time to go

the end result was the best scenario

I am from graduating in 2002

no jobs to be had

people weren’t retiring

they wanted people with experience

from substituting wondering if I was meant to be a teacher

it was my dream from the age of 5

to thinking that no one will ever take my dreams away from me

I am from the ink on my back

it tells a unfinished story

someday I am sure I will add more

only special people can see it

people are always shocked when they find out

it doesn’t fit their stereotype for me

I am from going back to BHSU

to being in a poetry class where my poems were ripped apart

and my heart stomped on

to living off campus and two boys competing for me

and the pressure to be like the rest

I am from graduating in 2005

from driving all over the western US

going to job fairs and interviews

living with my parents while I looked for a teaching job

so grateful that they are so wonderful to me

I am from Burley

my first teaching job

the best job but so lonely

not really a community with people my age

two major religious groups and I wasn’t either

so far away from my family

or it seemed so far away at the time

I am from my paternal grandma dying my first year of teaching

telling her it was ok

I was a teacher

I wasn’t getting married anytime soon

she didn’t need to keep hanging on

I am from Gillette

Moved back

from my Dad building my custom built home

a good job

people picking on me because I wouldn’t play the game

back to the same mentality by others that I didn’t fit in

from feeling the pressure to get married and have children

I am from Kuantan

achieving my dream of living and teaching overseas

getting to experience a whole other culture and different religions

learning so many things and meeting so many great people

living in a little room

very limited

very lonely

from traveling to other countries

achieving the lifelong dream of my Dad and I going to Australia

I am from Surabaya

part of me has really grown

and it questions what I believe in

lots of different ideas and thoughts out there

part of me is still the same

wanting to be part of the popular group

even on twitter

always thinking that I will never catch up

they are always older and wiser than me

being so nice and helpful that people use me

telling myself that I am strong and don’t need anyone

still wanting to find a great group of friends

thankful for my parents and maternal grandparents

missing my best friend

my brother and I are not close

I am envious of him and how awesome he is

my home has sold so I can never go back

still looking for my place in the world

striving to achieve my dreams

looking for my special someone

hoping he is out there

I am from today

wondering what the future will hold

what my next step is

wondering if I will be alone for the rest of my life

will I ever find a group of friends

ever not be picked on

not used

from the confidence that I am loved by my family

that I am a nice person

but the insecurity of my looks

wearing nice clothes and hardly ever looking in the mirror

that I will never be skinny enough or pretty enough for people

that the guys will always pick the skinny, petite, beautiful girls

from the scars on my body from Teton Science camp, heart surgery

and other various activities where I didn’t cry or complain

they remind me I am brave and strong

thinking more about the end of my parent’s lives

sad that as I live this unintended gypsy life

I leave pieces of my heart all over this world

I am from this moment

Writing a poem for the first time in years

thinking: is it good?

can I share it?

will people like it?

will they hurt my heart?

by: Melanie February 3, 2013

* This poem does not mean that I don't have any friends. I just don't have a large group friends that I am super close with. Not all people are the same and some have one or two close friends rather than a large group of close friends. Nor does it mean that I don't get along well with others.  We are all different people.  This poem is only a small part of me and not encompassing of every aspect of me and the whole story is not told for the purpose of this poem (I focused more on the challenges). Poems can also be the hardest to interpret. The poet can write meaning one thing and different people will interpret them in a variety of ways, so I am aware this poem could be interpreted in ways I haven't thought about. I am a pretty happy person and don't regret any of my life. It has been years since I have written any poems and this was a good challenge for me. I welcome any comments.

Pen Pals

I am on Facebook, Twitter and I have a couple blogs. They all have their purposes, but what I really love to do is write letters. I have been thinking about this the last few days. I like to write different things, but letters are my favorite. My second favorite would be poems; however, my poems are very personal and I don't like to share them. I took a poetry class and thought I could divorce my heart from my poems that I had to share, were critiqued and that I had to change. It was too painful and one of my favorite poems was ripped apart so many times that I could not even identify my original poem, and I evntually wrote another poem about how the first poem had died and would not be torn apart anymore. I haven't really been able to write a poem since and that was back sometime between 2003 and 2005.  I would love to write a book, but after the gripping beginning the story peters out with have crappy middles and lame endings. I enjoy writing essays, but with some much on my plate these days when do I have time to study something and write an essay. Since I moved overseas I have started a couple blogs about my experiences and my thoughts. So far, I have been more faithful to blogging than I ever have to keeping a journal. I even tried a new tactic of a journal called snap shots that were supposed to be like a picture, only with words, of events I had experience in Malaysia. It was hard for me to not fully explain the event. Although my blogs do get views it rarely gets any comments. So, they do not start any conversations.

My love affair with writing letters began when I was eight years old. We were on vacation, although I don't remember the location. I met a girl Amanda, I think from Colorado, at the hotel pool. This was before the traumatic move where I was picked on for the rest of my school years, so I was not yet shy. Amanda and I became friends quickly and were sorry when the vacation ended, so we decided to become pen pals. I can't remember any more how long we wrote each other, but I know it was for a couple years. With each person that has been my pen pal I have always continued to write as the other person's letters have slowly dried up and died usually due to busy lives and knowing we would most likely never meet. I had a couple in high school in Germany that I got through my German class. A friend in college and I wrote back and forth one summer. She had the coolest handwriting, but our friendship ended later. I still have her letters and have gone back to read them again. In my late 20's my best friend had me correspond with this guy that she wanted me to meet when I came to visit her, but we were on different paths in life. Even when I was in Malaysia I corresponded with a person for a short time, just a few weeks, giving an insight into life in Malaysia. That person gave me a compliment  that I wrote in great detail with depth and honesty, so that the person had a vivid picture and my "stories" interesting. Throughout my whole life, even to this day, my grandma and I write letters to each other. The only problem is that being on the other side of the world from her it takes a long time. My best friend and I also write letters. Many times though our letters have gotten lost and never made it to the other person.

When I taught in Malaysia I was taking an online class and through one of the conversations another teacher and I started talking about having our students be pen pals and write letters to each other. I talked about it with my students and they were really excited but there was some miscommunication between the lady and I via e-mail, so my students and I were waiting and waiting for their letters only to find out that she wasn't planning on doing this idea until the next school year. Needless to say my students and I were very disappointed and I never heard from that teacher again. 

I still send postcards when I travel. When I was in Seoul, South Korea in October I sent 18 postcards to different people I know.

One part I love about letters is that I can share stories about events in my life. As an avid read I enjoy telling stories. I used to tell stories in PE when we had to run laps around the track. It kept everyone entertained and got us through those miles. With letters though they are a story about a part of my life that I have decided to share with the other person. It is one way I show a person that I trust them. I also enjoy getting to know more about the other person.

I am a person though no matter what I write the process takes hours to accomplish. I start with composing in my head. I go over every line or sentence in my head repeating it over and over tweaking it until it sounds just right, then I put it down on paper or type it up and then I spend several more hours composing, rereading, tweeking until I think I have it say what I want it to say. One I post or save or e-mail I will take a break and come back to it and see little mistakes I have made that I automatically corrected in my head when reading through it, and I have to go back and make more changes. I do the same thing with letters and sometimes I will rewrite them. You are probably wondering why I spend so much time on letters when the other person may only read it once and may even throw it away after reading. I just like to make sure I am very thorough in my explanations as the other person has no other clues to help them interpret my words: no body language, facial expressions or tone of voice. I do not want them to misinrepret what I am saying because I didn't take the time to explain myself clearly. Of course, there is never any guarantee.

Back to my story on Pen Pals. So, I was lamenting that Facebook and twitter just weren't doing it for me and wondered if people correspond any more by letters not just posting or blogging. A fellow tweeter (I did not ask persmission to use name before I wrote this) suggested that a person could handwrite a letter, scan and e-mail to me. That is a brilliant idea, but neither my grandma or best friend are into technology, so they would not make use of this idea. I then thought that I would need a scanner as well, but the same person suggested that I could use a tablet and stylus. I thought finding a stylus would be hard to do as some things here that I thought would be easy to find have not been found. I was wrong and found one easily. Not many choices but I now have one. The next step was to figure out how to find a pen pal. I googled pen pals and they actually have several sites, I was surprised. In taking a closer look though many seemed like they were looking for romance. It was almost like online dating only under the name of Pen Pals. Then, I had the idea to maybe see about becoming a pen pal with some soldiers in the US military, but it appears that due to new regulations those services have been suspended. Many of the sites ask people to write letters and provide care packages every month. If I was in the US, I think that would be an easy thing to do, but with customs here I have a hard time getting packages and have a feeling there might be lots of complications trying to get care packages out and to those men and women. I feel like I am trying to force a pen pal into existence where in the past it has always happened naturally with no planning. So, I have decided in the mean time that I should find another outlet for writing until another pen pal comes along, because I know with my love for letters one will indeed come my way.