Writing Marathon Spring 2014 by Nicholas Sajjakulnukit

-Art Museum-

The interesting part of choosing to lurk

Is that I can observe, a whimsical perk

To speak not is hearing, without interfering

With others and how they may work

Once more I am here on a journey to write

To draw inspiration from some other sight

To wonder while perching upon a point, searching

For what the mundane may bring to light

The last time I did this we started downstairs

But it's varied somewhat, and honestly who cares?

From Bumpers to art, the difference in start

Is the opinion that someone else shares

And in its defense, I haven't been here

In this building of art of all forms

Consider it exploration of a sort

Outside of my established norms

That time of the fall and this time of the spring

I'd be interested to later compare

What difference a year and a half may bring

In the works that I see fit to share

9 journals have I, but I don't have the 1

That held my thoughts I had last time

Then again 5 have something else in store

Another purpose I've put to mind

So three in my pocket and one in my bag

My resources for holding my words

Then again organization demands separation

To avoid a word-mess too absurd

-Fireside Lounge-

If memory serves, this dull-dreary sky

Is the same exact shade that had met my eye

Though seasons shift two, I'd say that it's true

That little changes as time fly by

But of that said "little" is the view before me

A half-finished tower that I can now see

Born after that time and my last marathon rhyme

It grows here skeletal lay

The piano roars by the fireside

While the flames flicker freely with light

This place is where I had reflected upon

The shift from daytime to night

This tree before me hangs heavy with fruit

Withered and dangling forlorn

It seems strange that spring would allow such a thing

When one thinks it should be reborn

A temporal dissonance, decay within life

What I'd expect from the fall is seen now

But those piles of snow demonstrate what I know

That this scene has happened somehow

The ledge that I perched on is still over there

I recall us eavesdropping in the past

In that place of chill beside outdoor stair

It has changed little since I looked 'pon it last

So where to next in this journey of ours?

What will we choose to go see?

Of places in view, there are but a few

The Science Complex or the Library?

Or maybe the building of newly placed glass

Though the sights there are rare and few

Still for a wall filled with window's I'd expect

That some would have a hell of a view

-Library Floor 2-

Now that I think about it, the library floor

Is only to me the numbers 2 and 4

There is little reason for me to explore

1 and 3 for anything more

It's slightly at odds with where I have been

Back when I had lived back at Albion

I wandered those halls of physical text

And practically lived there within

Then again I have found that I write but don't read

My time is now spent with a muse I must feed

To relate or create, that choice for my state

Was answered by my whimsical need

-Library Floor 4-

I think the last time that I stood right here

Was when the Physics 2 final drew near

M, C and I tried to study that day

But I don't think we learned much that way

The skeleton tower looms within my sight

A collection of triangles standing upright

The cap on the ground and the crane by it's side

Shows that work is done for the night

There still a journal study that's announced all around

To look at what others have sought out and found

Or perhaps it's deception of a librarian's inception

To avoid a mess sure to astound

The study room dark and the study room light

Both gifts to the library

One with door open and one with door closed

And both empty as far as I see

Which one is preferred, the open or untouched?

Which one would you choose to exploit?

Either or neither is what I would think

I feel the atmosphere must disappoint

-Fireside Lounge, pt2-

So back to the fireside, we wait for the end

There were concerns about available seats

I took to the keys and tickled ivories

So you know, history repeats

This one and the last, two rambling tales

Of a trek around places I've been

It's an interesting exercise in seeing the world

And giving all things a new spin