I’m thankful for this opportunity to share my words. This space is something that I’ve become drawn to. I’m enticed by the artistry and liberty to express my opinions. A place where I’m communicating with you – and you are just interested enough to continue reading. This will delve deeper than it needs to, but still, thank you for being here. I hope you hear my poetry.
My poem is not quite a poem, it is more like a vision of my daydream.
My engine awakens. It’s just before dawn. The streets are still asleep. I’m a small SUV gliding down the road. Now, just hours later , the summer air holds a slight breeze. The year is 1993. I’m wearing bright blue pajama shorts with an all white tank top.I would stay in my pjs all day if I could. I stand in the kitchen, my favorite spot in the house. I look out the small window onto the yard of gorgeous flowers. Even though it’s summer I imagine myself in the Artic Ocean. Secluded. Cold. The thought makes me bundle up in my bed. I sit and imagine the day all over again.
Five years ago, two students at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign campus had a vision for an organization where students can enhance their skills in their writing and performance abilities. Together they came up with the organization “W.O.R.D.” — writers organizing realistic dialect. Since then, W.O.R.D has remained to be one of the only spoken word organizations and clubs on the U of I campus.