Now five weeks into my previously mentioned poetry class, I feel it is time to share with you my progress. Each week I sit in class forced to read my work, and each week I am consumed with the feeling of underachievement. The majority of my classmates seem to be fully enthused with sharing their emotions through the written word, while all I can seem to do is write witty cynicisms. Trying to put my best foot forward, I have come up with a small variety of poems that I feel, with some slight alterations, may be considered poetry. See below…
Stream of Consciousness
Winter is cold, like a running nose or a watering eye. Winter can cross you like an angry friend or bad haircut. Man I need a haircut, almost as bad as I need my warm bed, or a tissue for this dripping nose.
I wish I were at the lake, with all of its kindness. Geneva, the getaway. Relax into a burning sunset and let my mind drown far below the surface.
Is it summer yet?
The thought of summer makes me want ice cream and sunscreen. The smell of sunscreen in summer trumps any other. A bakery in fall, pine needles at Christmas. Sunscreen. I find myself using it in winter, for the feeling, the scent, rather than the protection. My house has a scent you can feel too. A mix of cinnamon, my mother, fresh sheets, and birthdays.
6:02am and on the train again
The mornings commute blue with irritation and odd people
All things are possible in the silence and cold, the day’s book has not been written
How I wish it was different, the mornings city, the mornings light, its sound
If only the sun were up or the smell would change.
On the train once again.
Texting Inspiration: @ u, I LOL
At you, I laugh out loud
The silly jokes, and bedtime whispers
The movie quotes, and dinner mishaps
The crazy antics, and bad karaoke
Your dorky interests, and boyish charm
The love, the laughter, the romance
At you, I laugh out loud
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