Sorry to give you old work two weeks in a row, but I had my rough draft of chapter 3 for Bottom of the Garden due today and let me tell you–that thing is a bitch to write. Seriously. I’ve re-written it three times now. Why me? WHY ME??
Not that I’m complaining. Now that I’ve got it at least partially situated I can move on to the next chapter, at least until after workshop when I have to go BACK to chapter 3 for the final draft. XD Cuuuuurse yoooooou…!!!
But Fridays are not for ranting. Fridays are for creativity! So today, I’ve gone back in my vault a ways and dug out one of my favorite poems I’ve ever written. I don’t usually like poetry, so it’s rare that I actually write one with any staying power. Mostly I just don’t have the patience or drive for it. But this one I wrote back in Freshman year of college, when I took Introduction to Poetry. I hope you like it as much as I do.
P.S. My writing club, Write Away!, has started a blog. It is called “Victorian Zombie Porn,” and there’s a permanent link to it in the sidebar. There is no actual porn on it. There also isn’t much of anything else, either, but hopefully there will be soon. I just need to finish strong-arming my co-presidents into making their WordPress accounts and we’ll be in business. :)
the sponge caught fire in the microwave and no one knows why
A tiny beast lives under our couch,
burrowed away under mismatching socks
propped up on stolen pencils.
He’s always snarling about something,
glaring from the backs of green eyes,
wrinkling that vacant little nose-hole as
slick talons snatch candy from the cabinet,
batteries from the mislaid remote.
Brand new hair ties hold up his pants
while he knocks all the earrings
off racks and out of boxes,
and when he’s feeling a little artistic
he creates modern masterpieces,
splashing nail polish across the carpet.
Little black dust mites dog him,
leaving Rorschach ink blots
all over the bathroom floor.
I once caught him using my toothbrush
to pry open the shower drain
and fill it with hair.
And when maintenance tries to detain him,
he locks himself in the vegetable drawer
and pummels them with rotting spinach.