chain poems

The BEAVER stops the flow
his Dam is like my class
a rot lot of SOUP WATER
SULFER and bile
But the occasional HOT SPOTS of surprise
dancing like NAKED HIPPIES
a WOODSTOCK in my brain
the potent DRUGS of the higher mind
ONE LOVE - my mind and yours -
our own BOB MARLEY slave

- and -

Legs long like GIRAFFES
my own AFRICA
endless PLAINS in my pocket
ANIMALS whispering
a HORSE begging for a romp
through the MUD - simple and rich
STICKY with adventure
like GUM in my mouth.

These are the poems we came up with in Creative Writing class, today - first and second period respectively. We did them as a class and then they did some on their own. The ones they did on their own were poiniant. A few of them made me laugh. More of them made me pause. A couple made me ache.

And these are the girls who say they hate poetry.

I tell you. Poetry is only boring when it fails to surprise. When it's broken by rules and the free flowing creative stream of consciousness is dammed up by that danged BEAVER.

I think this is why the world has such a love/hate relationship with Poetry. We think it is so untouchable - but all it is is mud. Simple and rich.


Grandpa Rusty said...

I think that is because the world today is used to having things handed to them on a platter, not in a box filled with Styrofoam peanuts that you have to root around in to find your treasure.
Poetry requires a little quiet time - a moment of hesitation in life's busy bustle of baloney to reflect, to... dare I say it... to think.
More people might enjoy poetry if they'd just be willing to take the iPod earphones out of their ears for a few moments.