The Poetry of School

The Last Flower (Written September 25, 2012)

Once upon a time
In a land far away,
In a kingdom so sad
That it never saw day,

Where war wages onward,
And rain rages down,
The poor butcher’s boy
Has his eyes on the ground.

The butcher is yelling,
Annoyed he is slow,
At what does he look
To make him stall so?

Could it be the war?
Or is it the rain?
Or is he just longing
To see sun again?

The butcher is coming now,
His patience is through.
He sees what boy looks at
And grinds it ‘neath his shoe.

In a land far away,
In a kingdom stained red,
In the midst of the street
The last flower lies dead.


Haha! How’s that for a happy thought? I wrote that at the start of the past school year for an assignment in my literature class. I was the one pestering our teacher about how we never seem to cover poetry after 10th grade, so my classmates were rather annoyed with me because they didn’t want to have to write poetry. Because I was irritated that they were annoyed at me, I made a point of writing this poem in the five minutes after the class got out. I did it to prove that it is super easy to come up with an idea if you start with one of those cliche begining like “In a land far away” or “A long time ago.” The rather twisted tone of the whole thing reflects my mood when I wrote it. Gosh that made me mad. -.- Though, I do feel bad for people who really can’t seem to get the whole meter thing down. I mean, anybody can count syllables, but that doesn’t mean it will flow well (I have the opposite problem, where the flow alright, but I have no meter). Honestly, one of the girls in my class- more the athletic, bubbly type than anything- writes some of my favorite poems. The poems she writes have a really awesome feel to them, but she gets frustrated because she is one of those people who can’t seem to get meter right. So, and this was extremely out of character for me, I agreed to, if she wrote the whole poem first, adjust it afterward. I loved that poem. I am going to ask her if I can get a copy of it and put it up here, because it was a really good poem. I guess, though I tried to make certain to keep the changes as absolutely miniscule as I could, there was one little part that I changed that she kept laughing about because it completely changed the meaning of the poem. I thought it was about a girl having a dream about this empty park . . .but I guess it wasn’t? She never told me what it was actually about, but I loved it, all the same.

On the same topic, as I think I have mentioned before, I really love reading amature poetry. If any of you happens to like writing your own poetry (I already know a few people who follow this blog and write poems of their own) or if you just decided to try your hand at it, and don’t totally hate what you end up writing, I would love to know about it. Just leave a comment on this poem with a link to it, and I’d love to read it. C=


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