POETRY DEDICATIONBy Matt Wagoner

I’ve never been one to discuss things with people, its just something that I don’t do. But inthis case, I feel that this is going to help open me up a little bit. So, not just my mother and I, but our whole family have been going through a lot this past year and a half. My nephew passed away at a very young age, he was less than one. It was horribly difficult until we all found our own outlets. Mine, of course, were music and writing. Poetry has never really been my thing, but I can write it. These next few are showcases of all our emotions pretty much compiled together.

I’m going to say it now; thank you for being there, Mom.

Beyond

By Matt Wagoner Where can one be alone?In a place no one else can seeThe place where only one can beIs the place that shall be shownThe place where one can be aloneBut of this place you must agreeIt is filled with nothing but dirt and debrisIn this lovely place that I have shown But in the dark I called upon youTo bring forth your lightTo a place that was left behindAnd even though I have broken throughI still see black and whiteAs I lay in this unconscious mind

This one I wrote a while ago, actually. It was at a time where I didn’t want to talk to or see anyone. I wanted to find a happy place. It was weird, I was in such a surreal state of mind when I wrote this. And for some reason, it felt really good,even though no one ever read it, it still was comforting to know it was there. The person I mention in the end really justrepresents the friendships I hold in general; the ones who made the recovery process a little easier. The last line is my recollection of how I felt. I didn’t feel like I was living, like I was just going through the motions. Really that’s how we allfelt, however every one else was a lot more open than I was.

We all have that happy place, it just took me a while to find it.

The RavenBy Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-

                Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-                 Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-

                This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-                 Darkness there, and nothing more.

Oh, The Raven. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve read this over the past year or so, and yes, it’s a favorite of mine.Also, I know it’s not in it’s entirety. It was as much as I could fit on one PowerPoint slide. Anyway, It could be said that

anyone could pull their own meaning out of The Raven, or have their own reason to read it. I could read it ten times overand would still be completely captivated by it. That’s why I enjoy it; it was something that could take my mind away fromme whilst I read. I found myself looking for these sorts of items more often than usual. And most often those items weremusic, however I did read more poetry than I ever have in my life. The surrealism of a world created by someone else

was simply mystifying, and I think that’s the whole reason why The Raven was a big deal for me.

Okay, I’m going to get this out of the way now, as we’re just getting started; I am utterly terrified right now. And I have noidea why.

Question?By Matt Wagoner

 Where are we?Living or dead?

Imprisoned or free?Do we make the choices?

Or is there something more?A Purpose?A Reason?

Is there even a “something more?” 

We go through our lives,And every day,

We do what we do.We be what we can be.

That's all there is,Or is there something more?

A Purpose?A Reason?

Or even an Obligation?Is there even a ”something more?”

 We all have our faults.

We come in last.We fail,

And sometimes lose hope.But do we just give up-

Or is there something more?A Purpose?A Reason?

An Obligation?A Question?

Or is there truly a “something more?”

I came up with this one when I was falling asleep one night. As I normally do, I ask myself questions, and as I did,I thought that would be a good idea to base some form of writing on. I ended up using it as a poem. I felt that

something like this needed to be free form, like it’s just someone thinking, which is something that I’ve been doingquite a bit of recently. I love free form poems. It allows you to put a structure to something that would otherwise be

mindless garble. For some reason, I find free form poetry harder to write than one with a rhyme scheme, I really haveno idea why. Well, that’s all I can say about that, really. It was just a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.

If I Can Stop- Emily Dickinson

If I can stop one heart from breaking,I shall not live in vain;If I can ease one life the aching,Or cool one pain,Or help one fainting robinUnto his nest again,I shall not live in vain.

I love this poem, and not being much of an Emily Dickinson fan that says something. While it may be short, I find it tobe a very well written and simply beautiful poem. As far as a meaning, well, who doesn’t want to do some good in this world? That’s what I like about it so much; the fact that it’s a simple poem for such a simple thing as a good deed. That’s really it; there’s really not much more to say. Not everything is bad, we just have to have that need to do something,something great, and not care what anybody else has to say. That is, if you choose not to hear.

Untitled

by Matt Wagoner There are those whom we cherish.Who never say a word,With no intentions of being heard.How could such a lovely thing perish-The one whom we cherish-In an existence blurred? Although their time was short,They brought in a heavenly light.And although they didn't speak,They bestowed much needed support.And now when the days seem bleak-They are the ones who make things bright.

I really struggle to bring myself to read this. I’m sure if you look at the second slide of this PowerPoint you’ll know exactly who this was for. I was so lost in thought when I wrote this I barely remember doing so, nor do I remember havinga title planned. In all honesty, I have no idea why I am even writing this explanation, for, I find, the poem speaks for itself.I’m sure anyone who has had a similar experience could relate to this no matter how they read it. I know hoe I feel about it,but that feeling’s diluted. It’s weird feeling I can’t really describe. It’s like trying to explain the color red to someone, or thetaste of water. My point is; don’t take anything for granted. That’s it. No more.

While The Raven may be my favorite poem, Shel Silverstein is by far my favorite poet, and has been for a very long time . And while he may be renowned for his funny and silly children’s poems, I happen to enjoy his…I don’t know,metaphorical poems a lot more, such as Invitation. Invitation , I feel, speaks out to people who see the world in a different point of view. I find this intriguing, because what if every person with a creative mind got together and

just talked? What would they talk about? What stories would they tell ? It’s just a fun little thing to think about. I alsolove the illustrations in all of Shel’s poems. In Invitation it’s very simple; just a lit candle, but it does mean something.

Lit candles always seem inviting, hence the use of one in a poem called Invitation.

Gone

By Matt Wagoner 

So here I thought you could be the oneBut could it be so easy to tell?The one who would never be outdoneAnd to whom I'd never say farewell                                                         All these days I thought you were the sameAlthough I never bothered to askTo prevent it going up in flameBut I knew soon it would be unmasked I never thought it could be meTo hold such a burdenThat if asked I would sayI'm at lost at seaLooking for a lost treasureWhen all I have now is vicarious pleasure

I’m not sure who I really wrote this for. It could’ve been myself, it could’ve been my parents. I don’t know, I guess it was for everyone. Even though I wrote this, I still struggle to find a direct meaning. However, looking at it from a reader’s perspective, I see two possible interpretations. One, I see it as a relative or a close friend leaving. Two, I see it as someonepassing who had much to say. Even still, I’m not 100% sure about how I feel about this poem. I guess it’s all up to the person reading it and their current state of mind. Nothing’s quite what it seems, however. I’m sure someone would beable to find a completely different meaning other than the two I figured. Like I said, everything varies from person toperson.

Another great poem by Shel Silverstein. This one, I feel, is one of his more inspirational poems. It shows that the only

person that can control your life is you. It’s pretty much the internal instinct that tells us right from wrong. I don’t know why, but I’ve never fully understood the whole “conscience” thing , which is probably why I enjoy this somuch. But really, the one major role this poem plays, for me, anyway, is the fact that I’m in control, and no one else is

going to sway me, which is quite important, if you ask me. I remember reading this poem back to back a while ago, areally long time ago, though. I think it was about three or four years ago, when I still had the book. Now that I think of it, Shel has played a big role in terms of the poetry I grew up with. I’m not sure what I would’ve read if It wasn’t him.

Home

By Matt Wagoner

This place along the roadThe one we seek to findThis lovely, homely abodeTo which we were inclined

A place no one knowsA place no one can seeA place were a cold wind blowsThe place where we can be

This is an older poem of mine, but it’s one I truly cherish. About two years ago, in a Literature class, I was asked towrite a poem about something that I liked. It wasn’t necessarily supposed to be an ode, it was just supposed to beabout something I liked. What you saw was how it turned out, and for some reason I chose to keep it. It was one of those you were really proud of yourself for doing, but never really showed anyone, I guess you could say. When I wrote it, I was like, “Wow, this was something I did.” Which was something I never ever told myself. Ever. Also, this was done at a time where I completely despised writing. This may have been the thing that allowed meto truly enjoy writing and see it in it’s entirety.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.   His house is in the village though;   He will not see me stopping here   To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   To stop without a farmhouse near   Between the woods and frozen lake   The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   To ask if there is some mistake.   The only other sound’s the sweep   Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.   But I have promises to keep,   And miles to go before I sleep,   And miles to go before I sleep.

This poem by Robert Frost is one of my favorite poems, bested only by The Raven. It perfectly fits my definition ofa perfect poem. It’s easy and enjoyable to read and has a very captivating story. Many times I’ve tried to find deepermeaning in this, and many times I’ve failed. What I’ve found is what it does best it does by getting its story across. It doesn’t need any cryptic or alternative meanings. It’s there for people to enjoy, nothing more. Why is this on here? Because I enjoy it. Especially the final stanza; those four lines are probably the most memorable out of anything I think I’ve ever read.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

BibliographyDickinson, Emily. N.p.. Web. 26 May 2013. <http://allpoetry.com/poem/8441923-If_I_can_stop_-by-Emily_Dickinson>.

Silverstein, Shel. "The Voice." Lookingforthemagic. N.p., 7 Dec 2011. Web. 26 May 2013. <http://lookingforthemagic.wordpress.com/2011/12/07/the-voice-shel-silverstein/>.

Silverstein, Shel. "Welcome." Autostraddle. N.p.. Web. 26 May 2013. <http://www.autostraddle.com/pure-poetry-shel-silverstein-78856/shel-silverstein-welcome/>.

Poe, Edgar A.. "Raven." PoeStories. N.p., 25 Sep 1845. Web. 26 May 2013. <http://poestories.com/read/raven>.

Frost, Robert. "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." Poetry Foundation. N.p., n.d. Web. 26 May 2013. <http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/171621>.