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Poetry » General » i hate poetry font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: alicer
Fiction Rated: K - English - Poetry - Reviews: 5 - Published: 07-24-08 - Updated: 07-24-08 - id:2549567

i have always
hated poetry.

i hate the way
the world bends as
slanted rhyme
sits alone in a corner
wrinkling the pages
and reminding me
of myself
when i sit alone
in the bathroom
of a birthday party
puking and engaging
in a drunken conversation
at the same time to prove
i am not here just there
for the free alcohol.

i hate how i am
crossing my fingers
as i pray to
rhyme zone dot com
that there doesn't
rhyme with beer,
which is a subtle mistake that
would nonetheless
turn me like stone
into a doofus.

i hate watching
hopeful bright eyed
five year old poets
open a thesaurus
trying to find a better word
for "said"
as they balance
their pencils and erasers
in their fist,
counting all the syllables
to make sure each line
sounds just right.

(tell them that it
never
sounds just right).

i hate that last year
my english teacher
gave my last poem a C
because she didn't understand
my brilliant metaphor
for obesity.

i hate how my
self-published professor
used her red pen
to write over my poetry

"voice alone does not
make a poem -
if you want to write
a real poem
try using more metaphors
and experimenting with
subtle sound patterns
like assonance and consonance"

i hate being
made to believe
that my poetry isn't real.

i hate how phrases like
stunting starlings
baptized balcony
and cackling cathy
are making their way
into my poetry
as if those are
word combinations
real people
would ever think of using.

but i am nonetheless
advised by experts
that reality isn't
a relevant issue.

i hate what poetry
has done to my friends,
who tell me with
hope in their eyes
and hate in their bodies
that starving themselves makes
them more of an artist.

i hate that my
poems always turn
into an art project
as i listen half-heartedly
to critiques
and suggestions
that i don't agree with
but use every single time.

i hate how poetry
squeezes the world
like a grapefruit

(when the world
is not a grapefruit)

and compresses
emotions into
thin, shaking lines
until everything
is tragic and pretty
and nothing is real.

just like my poetry.

and i have
always, always
hated my poetry.



© Copyright 2008 alicer (FictionPress ID:564419).


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