Poem - The Irony of Me
I happened to be digging through some old papers today and discovered a couple things from my Creative Writing I class, this being one of them.
My teacher had us read the poem "Monet Refuses the Operation" by Lisel Mueller, and than write a response piece to it (of which we never shared because she forgot, but that's another story for a different time). Anyway, last year I really hated reading and writing poetry.
Oh how things have changed.
Please forgive any typing mistakes, for I have a new laptop, and I'm not used to this keyboard yet. Also, if this doesn't make much sense, don't worry. I'm still kinda surprised that I was the one who wrote this.
Teacher, you imply that poetry is the best
and that writing it is even better,
but I must disagree.
I need prose, the flowing sentences,
the paragraphs, the pages.
The ability to write my way,
with colors and descriptions and characters,
Sci-fi, fantasy mixed as one.
A young girl in the middle of a war;
A teen with nothing more to lose.
Adults trying to steer them right,
And villains trying to stop them.
Sentences of dialogue and description,
Characters taking a life of their own.
My way has no room for poetry,
and there is no lost love.
Writing a poem may be what you want,
dear teacher, but I must stick to what I know.
Prose is my life, the way I breathe,
and poetry will never fit in it.
Comments are Love!!
My teacher had us read the poem "Monet Refuses the Operation" by Lisel Mueller, and than write a response piece to it (of which we never shared because she forgot, but that's another story for a different time). Anyway, last year I really hated reading and writing poetry.
Oh how things have changed.
Please forgive any typing mistakes, for I have a new laptop, and I'm not used to this keyboard yet. Also, if this doesn't make much sense, don't worry. I'm still kinda surprised that I was the one who wrote this.
Teacher, you imply that poetry is the best
and that writing it is even better,
but I must disagree.
I need prose, the flowing sentences,
the paragraphs, the pages.
The ability to write my way,
with colors and descriptions and characters,
Sci-fi, fantasy mixed as one.
A young girl in the middle of a war;
A teen with nothing more to lose.
Adults trying to steer them right,
And villains trying to stop them.
Sentences of dialogue and description,
Characters taking a life of their own.
My way has no room for poetry,
and there is no lost love.
Writing a poem may be what you want,
dear teacher, but I must stick to what I know.
Prose is my life, the way I breathe,
and poetry will never fit in it.
Comments are Love!!