This is where I'm putting my poems, if you haven't gathered that from the title. Here they are.
Poem 1: Overthinking
So when I was told to write a poem, I couldn't think of anything. Every time a idea would try to tack itself into my brittle brown bulletin board of a brain, the board would crumple, and the push-pin would fall out. I hadn't a doubt that this would be difficult. My mind craves perfection, clawing at the outskirts of my head the whole day while I pretend that no, I’m not being gnawed on by a monster. Something that should be so simple has stumped me. And despite the ample time we had, the product ends up sad, which makes me more mad that I don't know how to sew these words into a flow of lyrical genius. My teeth chatter as I hear the chiming of bells at my own funeral. Cause of death? Slightly late to hand in work. Oh, but here, the afterlife is even more nasty. Once my shaking hands have released the paper into my teacher’s inbox, my knees never cease to knock together, and the alarm clock that had woken me up so many late nights to attempt to write this doesn't snooze. Panicked hornets swirl around, filling my head with so much buzz I can barely hear the class over the din of my own worries. What if it was terrible? Will my grades be greatly affected by this? How many grammar mistakes were in there again? Did I romanticize that scenario too much? These worries soon turn into certainties. My wording is gross. I am a bad writer, and person by extension. And the nights when I don't know my mark, those are my favourite. Where my tossing and turning doesn't ease my sweaty palms or the lack of qualms I have about the outcome, it builds me into a nervous wreck.
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Next day. Mark: 5/5. Comments: Outstanding! I love reading your writing!
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Suddenly the weight is gone from my shoulders, and I have been yanked from this afterlife of suffering, and have been reborn. This is good. It means I can feign nonchalance to the fact that for the next slightly late assignment I'll be launched into another cacophony of stupid rambles.
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Next day. Mark: 5/5. Comments: Outstanding! I love reading your writing!
..
Suddenly the weight is gone from my shoulders, and I have been yanked from this afterlife of suffering, and have been reborn. This is good. It means I can feign nonchalance to the fact that for the next slightly late assignment I'll be launched into another cacophony of stupid rambles.
Thoughts on "Overthinking"
I rather enjoyed writing this one, since a lot of what is described above relates to some of the problems I have had with anxiety and such. It was almost like I was venting indirectly to the reader, which was nice to get off of my shoulders. I like this work quite a bit, but if I were to change anything about it, I'd make it shorter and more concise.
Poem 2: A Haiku on War
War doesn’t solve much
Why do people still start fights
Seriously, guys?!
Why do people still start fights
Seriously, guys?!
Thoughts on the Haiku
This one was easy to make, and is fairly humorous. That's really all I have to say about it. It's not a long piece in the slightest, so there isn't much to discuss here.