Krystalized: My one attempt at poetry

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

My one attempt at poetry

Back in 11th grade, we had to write a "collection of poems" - my normally cheerful self suddenly became the cynically depressed poet over night. I maintain it is impossible to write happy poetry and not sound like a tool. So here, I share with you my first masterpiece in that collection. This one sounds like a bad pop song - can't you see some American Idol murdering this poor thing? However, you will see why I avoid poetry like the plague after a sampling of my poetry...

I Don't Love You

I don't love you, I'm sorry to say
I thought you would like to know
Before you come to me
Through the blistering snow

I don't love you, I'm sorry to say
I stopped a long time ago
But I tried to hide it from you
And just go along with the flow

I don't love you, I'm sorry to say
I realize I never did
Yet I thought it had blossomed in summer
In the treehouse where we'd hid

Or perhaps I thought it occurred in the winter
Upon the snow bank where we'd played
Yet I see now I never did
Quite love you in that way

The way the storybooks describe
All starry eyes and such
You never were Prince Charming
I had just dreamed you as that much

Forgive me, but I want the fairy tale
Not some fling that will fade
Forgive me but I have my dreams
Of which you haven't made

2 comments:

Mitch said...: That's actually not bad, and considering how most 11th grade girls might be thinking, it's kind of deep. And depressing. LOL; May 28, 2008 at 11:52 AM
Julie said...: It's only fair I share a high school poem too! Don't laugh too hard! ;)

(I was attempting to imitate Millay with this poem.)

Ahem!...

"Looking Around"

Looking around, I am trying to recreate you.
Trying to prove we ever shared this bed,
laid head next to head
You lying next to me
yet not quite entwining your body with mine
You passed the time

And I tried to sing but my voice was too soft and you could not hear
Though my words were dear
And meant for you
You could not hear
The love I saved like pennies in a jar
and kept next to the spices
My mother brought from afar

You could not hear,
Though I strummed your strings
And did my best to please you.
In the end you went anyway
And I am still looking around
chained like Andromeda
Waiting—
for you to return the refrain.

Muah!; June 9, 2008 at 9:53 PM