Overall, the experience was pretty "meh", actually. While there were one or two older writers who did actually produce some quality stuff, most of the "peers" were young freshmen, some of whom were probably taking this as an "Easy-A" class. Then again, many of them were also English majors, so the latter statement is more difficult to "verify".
Anyways, one of the units we were required to do was a poetry unit. I hate poetry. Okay, so hate is a strong word - but I do very strongly dislike poetry. More so than that, I hate analyzing poetry. I hate being expected to search for hidden messages, matching words to meaning, etc. It's just not for me.
So, naturally, I was more or less very apathetic about the whole idea of a "poetry" unit. But, we were required to choose a poem we had written recently to submit to a workshop. Oh, and we also had to read our poetry out loud to everybody. Blech. Did I mention I'm not a poet? Anyways, like I mentioned previously, I was very apathetic and, quite frankly, unhappy about the idea of poetry. And, of course, the "spunky, sassy, fun" me wanted to show this. What better way to do this than in the format of a poem I was required to read out loud to the class?
The journey began. Determine to express my extreme irritation at having to deal with poetry, I took the theme of a high school student also very apathetic about poetry (it seemed appropriate, I suppose) and started Googling different sorts of poetry. What came out, of course, was less than ideal; however, it did show me that I was either in a terrible group of writers that day, or that I am a god when it comes to poetry, because I only remember one very minor criticism about the piece. Anyways, here is the piece, entitled, "Untitled Poetry Written by a Jaded High School Student."
In
school, they told me to rhyme,
But
I haven’t got the time,
Nor
will it ever earn me a single dime.
“Leaders
love alliteration,” Lucy loved to lie.
In
school, they say learn
when
we only want to play.
So
we write Haikus.
Cinquian
Poetry
Type
Used
by teachers
Not
for creative purposes
Lackluster
O
Poetry, the bane of thy existence.
Especially
now, with my Terza Rima.
From
me, please disappear into the distance.
There
once was a poet named Thyme
He
claimed he was a master of Rhyme.
Then
the rappers walked in
With
grammar like sin,
Said, “We limerickin’ ‘bout hoes and crime!”
