The following poem was written in a metaphore to explain and examine the realization I have come to in my life. Sharing your true colors and real personality to the rest of the world is scary. You want "jar up" your emotions, your passions, your ideas and everything else because we are often afraid of what the world may think. We hide behind fashion and beauty and don't ever want to "spill" ourselves and let the people around us truly get to know us. This page is an attempt to spill myself and will hopefully encourage you to do the same. Please visit my class work page to learn about making a webpage, my links page to see other great poetry works, my photo's page to see my passion, my resume page to see my professional skills, and my poems page to read more of myself, spilled onto the page.

Lauren's Jars

Strand up tall, try not to tip
admire my shiny gloss
see the handicraft of my maker
try to keep the world inside
that sweet liquid
bottled up
My hands like a spout
tip me over and...
keep it inside
Look over the edge
droplets form together
pushing their way toward the front
as his eyes burn into me
almost tasting that which I keep locked up
racing racing to the spout
trying to break free
and expose me to my enemy
stop

stand up
admire my shiny gloss
see the handicraft of my maker
there is nothing inside
the candle eyes go out
and I am left dark

The sun comes out with millions
of faces interlaced in the clouds
gleaming down on my smooth round sides
admiring
but they want more
they want every drop
everything I have
everything I hold secret
my innermost person
the treasure locked up
inside the caverns of these
glassy blue curves
find a lid
to keep... flys away?
the clouds turn grey and scatter
empty canvas

I sit on a windowsill at the edge of the world
looking down onto a dusty road
liquid fermenting and staining
perfect white ceramic walls

familiar voice breaks into my solace
thirsty
looking up on my dusty dull shell
I cough, a million paint chips flying from chapped lips
lid rattling
insides sloshing
all dried up, I say
there is a well around the corner

A hand reaches out taking me from my sill
a sleeve moves particles of dust
revealing worn blue coat reflecting curious eyes
slowly bending
insides stirring
want to hold back but voice is hoarse
world is expecting
drops race to my spout, faster and faster
gathering teams together and moving slowly toward their future
faster and faster, the one in the lead rounds the bend and holds on
let one last finger slip off the edge

And I am free
Water flows from the edge
where reason meets potential
and drops off the edge into beautifull dreams
Spilling myself onto the page
I am free