POEM STARTER
Submitted by Maranda Quinn
Write a poem from the perspective of someone who obviously hates — or is just extremely bad at — poetry.
Try to consider why someone may feel pressured to write a poem. Love? A school project?
This Poem Is Going To Be The Death Of Me
Bees are the farmers of the natural world.
Flowers are the stocks of crops, strong, and still.
Bouquets are like the produce that comes from farms.
The queen bee is the government, and sometimes she will be overthrown.
_This is terrible! I have never been a writer, much less a poet! Why do we have this unit in English anyways? It doesn’t seem like something we _**_need_**_ to learn about. And the worst part is it counts for half of my grade!_
_I crumble up the paper and throw it in the trash can beside me where a mountain of crumbled papers much like this one has started form. _
_Why can’t I ever write anything good enough? I mean I’m not trying to get a perfect score but it at least has to be good enough that I won’t be embarrassed when I have to present it to my classmates._
_I rip out another piece of paper from my notebook, and sharpen my pencil._
_Alright Jenna all you have to do is write a poem that compares civilization to nature. Just write what first comes to mind, it’ll be easy. What am I thinking? I can’t just write what I first think of. I have to actually make it sound cohesive, and thought out. Well here goes nothing._
_I put the pen on my paper, and write._
Nature’s animals are just as the world‘s people.
Animals form packs as people form families chosen, and born into.
Animals, and mankind have many of their own languages, and ways of communication.
But not all groups understand the others.
_Ugh! I sound like I’m writing something that would be found in a nature documentary not a poem! What’s wrong with my brain?_
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_I glance at my clock._
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_What, it’s already ten forty five! I’m never going to finish. Well I guess I’ll just have to sleep on it, and try again tomorrow._
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_I stand up from my desk, and walk to my bed, slipping under the covers._
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_This poem is going to be the death of me._
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