What happens when you...

... stay up late. This title is the only one I could think of for this rather *unexplainable* post!

I don't why I've stayed up late tonight. When I finally decided to go to sleep about an hour ago, I discovered a shoebox in a wardrobe, labelled "Ameera's things". They were old memories, scraps, sketches, etc. and I went through them.

I don't know how or why but something in that box triggered off my poetic emotions, and I started to sing broken, disjointed lyrics. When I came across a blank sketch book, I grabbed a pen and decided to create my own comic strip. What happened next was rather weird considering the follow up to it.

I drew the head of a weird chicken (like those in the movie 'Chicken Run') but suddenly, I felt like some sort of poem was forming in my head. This happens rarely with me - the last time it happened, I wrote a cool little poem... and put a password on it that I forgot. Wonderful.

Anyway, I scribbled, singling along to the nascent lyrics. The poor chicken's head was surrounded by messy handwriting. In the end, I came out with this short poem... and I haven't named it yet. I've always loved 'Stopping by woods on a snowy evening' by Robert Frost. Somehow, even if it may sound incredibly self-centered and crazy, to me my little poem follows Frost's plot-line and provides a sort of 'epilogue'.

Before you read the poem, do bear in mind that people think up weird things at night and when they sacrifice sleep, their brain cells start jumping off the cliff into the Vale of Death. Good proof here already.

Here's the peom, and being partly free-style, I doubt you'll call it one:

Lovely pie in the sky,
Makes me reach up so high...
And go for that
I had never thought
Would be so nigh.

Gazing up at the crystal sky,
And a million stars,
Twinkling back...
Why is it that we wish to be
Up there, so far?
So crazy, why?

I stand here in this chilling wind,
My feet so tired, my eyes so dim...
But something is driving me
To farther lands
And brighter fields
Where I have to be.

Pain so much I've come to know,
So lightly still I tread the snow.
So happy I let my steed go.
I hope to stop and breathe in
To find solace from that deafening din.
And still the stars beckon me in...

Tonight I cross
My final bridge...
Tonight I'm back at that silent ridge...
With flakes filling up that familiar wood,
I'm back where I thought
I never would.

-------

The only thing I can say here is that Frost's poem was so simple but the depth of its meaning cannot be fathomed completely by anyone... perhaps even himself.

I have a strong urge to degrade my poem here, to save me from harsh criticism, but perhaps someone will find meaning in those broken verses...

For the record, I like the poem... for its ambiguity.