Welcome to Shakespeare’s High School Poetry. We don’t all start off as an excellent world-renowned writers. A lot of our stuff gets rejected, shoved to the bottom of our lockers, or just flat out burned because, let’s face it, for most of us, early writing sucks. As I’m sure did Shakespeare’s early work.
I picture him sitting in class at his desk, smelling the girl’s hair in front of him like some nerdy freak, and writing about how in love with her he is. Then in college on a random bored night, he probably goes back to read this poem and laughs at himself and tops it with Sonnet 18.
Personally, I have written many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many poems that I thought were decent at the time. After rereading some of my own work, I have to laugh, then tremble in sheer embarrassment, then laugh again.
Sundays will now be devoted to poetry. I am not a professional writer by any stretch of the means, but I do love to write. Hopefully you bear with me through the next 52 weeks as each week will be a little something different. Shakespeare’s high school poetry will probably still be tons better than this, but we’ll have to see won’t we.
Sundays will now be devoted to poetry. I am not a professional writer by any stretch of the means, but I do love to write. Hopefully you bear with me through the next 52 weeks as each week will be a little something different. Shakespeare’s high school poetry will probably still be tons better than this, but we’ll have to see won’t we.
This week’s flavor is the haiku.
My roof, my safe place.
Thoughts vanish. Peaceful and calm.
Tornadoes inside.
No comments:
Post a Comment