Poetry, you either love it or hate it. I consider myself a creative writer, and nowhere near the status of a poet. After all, don’t poets have to suffer for their craft? Well, my first writing assignment for my creative writing class: POETRY! All I know about writing poetry is similar to: roses are red, violets are blue, my dog smells funny and so do you. I was both apprehensive and ashamed of myself. I could create a poem; somewhere inside of me I had it. Well, here is my first attempt. The assignment was to go to someplace outside, a natural surrounding and write what I saw. I couldn’t get anywhere “natural” this week, so I looked a photo I had taken of Bridal Veil Falls in Yosemite. Here is what I came up with:
Bridal Veil Falls, Yosemite
Snow is melting, water is falling
Down the face of the mountain
Rock shelves jut out
Mist in the air, my face is damp
Rocks tumbling and trees clinging
Water tumbling, churning
Sky brilliant blue, no clouds
Water icy cold
Boulders unmoving
Part B of the assignment was to take a famous poem and rewrite it in my own words (isn’t that sacrilegious). See if you can guess what the original poem was.
Two paths separated in the autumn hued forest
I was saddened because I had to choose one
Being alone, I stood for a long time
I looked down one road as far as I could see
It turned into the shrubs and flowers
The other path, just as pleasant as the first
And could be better than the other
It was grassy and asked for wear
Because of the traffic passing through
Each had been worn about the same
Both paths in the morning equally lay
No leaves and no steps had been made
I marked the first path to take another day
I knew which way it led
I wondered if I would come back
I should say this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages therefore
Two paths separated in the forest, and I
I took the one less used
Part C of the Assignment – write a poem on a current event. Having just watched Apollo Ono at the Olympics, short track speed skating was on my mind.
Oval Track
Round and round
On an oval track of ice
Each skater wearing a skin tight suit
Skates glisten under the lights
Muscles tighten
Elbows fly, hands push
10ths of a second matter
Small mistakes cost you a prize
Each skater trying to become first
Pacing and planning their move
Skating faster and faster
Gliding across the ice
Fingertips reaching down, balancing
Their eyes on the prize
A medal of Gold around their necks
Waving a flag, singing an anthem
All for their country
I am not claiming any of my poetry to be good – but it’s a start.
