Poetry attempt no. 1

This is an attempt at poetry.

My first.

Well, there was that one poem I wrote
in high school for English class
that turned out to be awful,

And one I wrote in college when I liked
that one girl who didn’t like me back
and I got all mopey
and listened to sad songs all night
and decided to write a poem for her
and it was awful, too.

But I figure those don’t count.
I’m older now, and wiser
(I guess),
so I might as well call this my first.

Alright. Let’s do this.
Poetry.

Wait.
Should it rhyme?
Probably.
I’m not one of those artistic types
in the coffeehouses
explaining my tragedies
and railing against The Man
while rambling
in free verse or slam something or whatever.

So.
Rhyming.
I guess I should stay away from orange
or even purple
although the more I think about it
maybe I should go ahead and use purple
just to rail against The Man.

Alright.
Let’s do this.
Poetry:

The memory of you left me

left me

left me

purple?

Sure, why not.

The memory of you left me purple

Yeah, that’ll work, I guess.
It sounds smart enough.
OK, so. Let’s keep going:

The memory of you left me purple
Night approaches in waves of

in waves of

in waves of

gurple?
slurple?
murple?
chippy chappy churple?

Screw it. I’m going back to prose.


copyright 2014 David Cornelius all rights reserved

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