I slammed the door, and I never looked back
To the cold unfeeling light of day
There are no windows in this home of a shack
She loved and then left, he decided to pack
The world is too heavy, my hair too grey
I slammed the door, and I never looked back
How long has it been since I veered off the track?
Many years I’ve wandered, far from the way
There are no windows in this home of a shack
This home of my loathing, on the lonesome track
Is where I’ve come, my home in the grey
I slammed the door, and I never looked back
I wanted to sing but I’ve lost the knack
It’s here that I’ll stay, leaving light of day
There are no windows in this home of a shack
I slammed the door, and I never looked back
Aw, Danielle, you've already had your single teacher-will-overlook-poetry-this-one-time poem for the semester! What else have you got?
ReplyDeleteI don't have time to finish everything on time and rewrite prompts!
ReplyDeleteI intentionally didn't ask for a rewrite; I just wanted to register my inability and unwillingness to deal with poetry.
ReplyDeleteAlright, I'll work on something else.
ReplyDeleteAlthough I must say you posted a lot of examples of poetry for a week in which you don't want poetry.
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ReplyDeleteNo no--if I'd wanted a rewrite, I'd have asked for one. The poetry I posted is stuff I couldn't resist taking I liked it so much--but it has to totally wow me before I lose the gloom. Your prose, I will say, often wows me with its poeticism.
ReplyDeleteYou're awfully kind. Actually, someone just told me this week that my prose is like free verse.
ReplyDeleteMy advice is not to cultivate that 'like free verse' trait. From instinct and from material, it will come and it will happen, and all the better for being all unbeckoned.
ReplyDeleteActually, when that person said that my prose was like free verse, I hated the statement. I don't like free verse. So I won't try to cultivate it, because often trying shows.
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