I probably should start reading
some of these poems assigned for this class so that I could write something somewhat constructive during these free-write sessions rather than scribbling away meaninglessly and uselessly. I wonder if my professor ever sees me writing so quickly and intently and gets excited or hopeful that I’m making some sort of insight. Sorry. Not sorry.
This line does not end here
I’d like to go
somewhere elsesomewhere far awayI want to learn a new languageI want to play soccer againI want to write a better poem than this
Cannot bring my pen to the page
“Free-Write: Formulate a theory as to why “The seasons” was so popular, given what we know about 18th century England.
This is hard for me to do, seeing as how I neglected—chose to neglect—reading this poem. Things I decided to do instead of reading “The Seasons”: Drive home, make peppered tofu with peppers and onions, eat said tofu, watch The Master of Disguise, have sex, sleep, go to work, drive my friend to work, do […]
Pen wanders to the page
Mind wonders about this day in ageSilly rhymesTo pass the timeTo fill linesSitting on my assIn this purgatorial class
Penmanship and writing style
are two very different thingspenmanship and writing styleare synonymssynonyms are words that represent similar things!contradictionThis paradox is easily overcomeby understanding the arbitrariness of wordsand the multiple senses they are used in reference to
My eyes burn as dry
as the well in my pen;My words are as emptyas the thoughts in my head. I hear nothing next to methe place you used to rest;Where I used to listen to you breatheas I felt my heartbeat in my chest.
What am I talking about?
The frantic scriblles of a madmanThe regurgitation of a sick manThe productivity of a recluseThe result of insomniaThe transcendental recordings of a wise manThe blood of a masochistThe songs of a loverThe praise of a priestThe death of a childThe lens towards beautyThe veil to realityThe path to destructionThe road to salvationThe ink on this […]
What just happened
inside of me?I felt my body miss youthen my digestive systemdistracted me.I grabbed a penand my notebookto write aboutthe way thatthe thought ofyoumakes me feel. AND THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED
