Write Poetry Like it’s 1999, Part III

I think this will be the end of the poetry I share from 1999 (a good year). I’ve decided, for mostly my enjoyment (and yours too, if you like my on-the-spotness) to modernize both poems to sound better than when I was 11 or 12. (Like that’s even possible.)

A star shines in the sky for you
To my heart I shall be true
When I hear my name aloud
I drift along a rising cloud

I stare all night at the moonlit sky
Thinking of my love floating by
Walking on the shining sun
Golden hair and graceful run

The planets align as he passes by
He controls the Earth, the stars, and the sky
Every night he haunts my dreams
Bringing me gifts like stars and moonbeams

The Modernization

Hello, Atlas.
I see you lifting
with your fists, your arms,
those legs,
the world—
my world.

Your muscles flex,
shaming stars
your hair glistens gold,
shaming suns.

And I wave to you, Atlas.
You smile, teeth the color
of white dwarfs,
and lift the Earth one-handed
to blow a kiss,
a shooting star,
so I may wish
for your freedom
to love me.

Poetry is a dream, a desire
As I read my books beside the fire
I write my pieces one by one
Until I see the fall of the sun

The Modernization

I do not dream of poetry,
or desire it.
But if I have a little time
I’ll write down words that may
or may not

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