I didn't post the second poem I wrote for class because, quite frankly, it sucked a lot. Here's poem number three. The assignment was to go somewhere or remember going somewhere and think about how we felt. Then to end with abstraction.
Yeah, I know. But what can one do?
-The Drewcifer
Poem:
Class is over and I start my
walk, my real day. I hop on a bus
to take me to Earhart, my place of
employment, but I get there
early.
I don’t clock in for my shift
yet. I’m not that kind of person.
But I do find upstairs the sort of
creative nexus
I’ve been looking for
for days.
I glance at the clock and see I have
forty minutes. That’s fine, that’s
enough.
I set the alarm and
get out my notebook and
get out pen and
start to write.
for a little while i’m trapped in a world
of my own creation where i can see
anything at all or
nothing if i choose
or rather if that’s what is chosen
after an eternity spent in faerie rings
and dragon fire there’s a
shrill beeping as my alarm alerts me
that it’s time to go to work.
I pack up my stuff and head down
to the locker room where my
uniform sits,
unthinking and mundane.
And I clock in and get to work.
But,
sometimes i can slip into
my worlds for just a moment
or two
and dreams of everything and nothing
pass before my eyes
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