Post by lana on Sept 28, 2008 15:01:49 GMT -5
So, I have this due for an assignment tomorrow. I just wrote this in like... twenty minutes, so it probably isn't too great. It's freeverse poetry, so don't kill me for not rhyming. Just... give me your thoughts. I don't know where this came from (seeing as I normally suck eggs at poetry), but hopefully it came from somewhere good...
(NOTE: I don't want corrections or suggestions of any kind. It may end up being entered for a contest, so this has to be all by myself. Just general thoughts and reactions, please.)
The sweet sense of victory…
Gone. Like it had never been there.
The wastepaper basket?
Overflowing with rejections she wishes to be rid of
Her notebook?
It might as well be empty
Ideas all seem… superfluous
They float around, never to be tangible
Her mind cries for a respite from these constant naggings
The constant sense of defeat
And yet, she can’t bring herself to put it out of its misery
Yet another idea barrels into her
The juices flow again
The motivation is with her again
Her mind is sharp again
But for how much longer?
How long until she finally decides that this idea is to join the ones in the wastepaper basket?
When will she finally be freed from the vicious cycle?
She refuses to acknowledge those terrifying questions
She writes away her fears
She ignores her misgivings
She forgets the life she wishes was a bit fuller, a bit kinder
It’s an uncomfortable compromise
But she’s happy with it
For now, she will write out her thoughts
Her dreams
And she does it for the career she doesn’t believe will ever be hers
When had she ever truly believed in the first place?
(NOTE: I don't want corrections or suggestions of any kind. It may end up being entered for a contest, so this has to be all by myself. Just general thoughts and reactions, please.)
The sweet sense of victory…
Gone. Like it had never been there.
The wastepaper basket?
Overflowing with rejections she wishes to be rid of
Her notebook?
It might as well be empty
Ideas all seem… superfluous
They float around, never to be tangible
Her mind cries for a respite from these constant naggings
The constant sense of defeat
And yet, she can’t bring herself to put it out of its misery
Yet another idea barrels into her
The juices flow again
The motivation is with her again
Her mind is sharp again
But for how much longer?
How long until she finally decides that this idea is to join the ones in the wastepaper basket?
When will she finally be freed from the vicious cycle?
She refuses to acknowledge those terrifying questions
She writes away her fears
She ignores her misgivings
She forgets the life she wishes was a bit fuller, a bit kinder
It’s an uncomfortable compromise
But she’s happy with it
For now, she will write out her thoughts
Her dreams
And she does it for the career she doesn’t believe will ever be hers
When had she ever truly believed in the first place?
