So I'm taking this fantastic online poetry course from the University of Iowa called #Flashwrite. I'm two weeks in and already seeing a big difference, which is exciting because poetry has always felt like my weak point. But I'm having tons of fun with it. :) I thought I'd share the poems I've been working on since taking the course and ask if you have any advice for me, too. The first is from the week on imagery and the second is from the figurative language lessons.
Worn Tires on a Lonely Highway
Classic rock crackles through a bad connection,
Poor enough to annoy but just good enough not to turn off.
He's been driving for hours,
And the deep purple bags under once bright green eyes tell you
But the road is long and endless,
Pavement smooth and grey,
Double yellow lines faded to a ghost of a guideline.
It'd be so easy to veer off to the other side,
But he keeps on driving.
The rumble of the engine became your lullaby,
The smell of cheap gas station coffee and
Greasy bacon cheeseburgers from the sketchy diner with broken AC
Your fragrance of choice.
Motel carpets that used to be green are now brown,
So you don't take your shoes off even when you crawl between wrinkled sheets,
But the sound of his snoring still sings you to sleep.
Morning comes early,
And it's back on that lonely highway,
Just the two of you up front and an empty backseat.
All the days to keep on fighting.
She is an angel of the underworld,
Too good for dark but
Too dark for good.
She is lost,
Like a cat that roams the neighborhood streets,
Perching only for a night on wicker porch furniture,
Never staying in one place long enough to watch the sun set and then
Rise on a new day.
She is thirsty,
Parched lips and dry tongue yearning
For the wetness and satisfaction of feeling
Her skin brush that of another
Who knows what it's like to be cold
Even in the thick oppression of August's rays.
She is broken,
Made up of shattered shards of mistakes she
Glued back together but in the wrong places with "what if"s and
"Could have been"s and the
Glittering promise of redemption she chased for years,
Like a mirage on the desert horizon.
Instead of water she found dust
And lust for a pinch to pull her from this nightmare she mistakenly called
She is the hitchhiker on the side of a highway.
She is rain on campfires.
She is the back corner of a garage where you store your
Forgotten notebooks and bicycles with flat tires.
She is a moonless night,
She is melting wax,
She is shame
And self-inflicted pain,
But most of all,
What did you think? Is there anything I can do to improve either one of them? If you'd like, you can share some of your poetry in the comments. I'd love to read it!
Saturday, April 16, 2016
I am an 18-year-old homeschooler, author, daydreamer, voracious reader, introvert, feminist, klutz, fangirl, and overuser of tape. I love the impossible (which might explain my obsessions with fantasy novels and Harry Potter) but I dip into the real world . . . occasionally. I tend to get overly emotional over my OTPs and eat sushi or listen to Taylor Swift to soothe the pain. If all else fails, reruns of “Doctor Who” or “Supernatural” is sure to help. I’m a big fan of mismatched socks, Cheez-Its, and bittersweet endings. I believe anything Rainbow Rowell, Felicia Day, or Lin-Manuel Miranda touches turns to gold. If you want to win the way to my heart, help me adopt a baby elephant. Or a llama. Or both. I write to survive and will often yell at my characters if they aren’t behaving, which is always. It doesn’t usually help. I am a contributor to the "Fauxpocalypse" anthology. You can follow me on Twitter at @Magic_Violinist.