When I was in high school I used to write poems ironically. I hated poetry, so I guess I thought making fun of it was the best way to get back at it for existing. I just recently came across one I wrote for a friend of mine, circa 2005:
Ode to Lips
Little two friends of mine
In front of the teeth—oh, how divine!
Part muscle, part skin
Separate when I grin.
I know, I know. I make Dickinson look like child’s play.
As I got older and more matureish, I grew to appreciate poetry a bit more. Not to love it, or even necessarily like it, but to accept it and to acknowledge its usefulness in certain settings. Sometimes a poem just expresses sentiments that regular words cannot.
Like this, for example:
Silently watch the clock tick by
Lights are out, about to cry
Everyone else is settled in
Enjoying their rest, their peace, their zen
Priceless sleep: I miss you, friend.
I could have just said “I’m f*cking tired,” but the poem really illustrates the gravity of my sleep situation. I have a degree in English, you know. Best $20,000 I ever spent.
Which reminds me:
Ode to School
Semesters come, semesters go
Children learn and change and grow
How we loved it in our youth
Oblivious to the ugly truth
Of essays, midterms, student aid
Literally rather eat grenade
I had a 4.0 GPA and I think it’s pretty obvious why.
And finally, this:
Ode to Odes
Of all the stupid things I’ve done
Definitely writing this is one.
Every ode comes down to this:
(Maybe tomorrow I will challenge myself to write a blog post without a single curse.)