When I was a kid, I wrote a lot of poetry, but this is the first one I’ve done in decades. If you are a poetry buff, a word of warning: this poem follows no rules or structures, because I don’t remember any of them from high school. This has been sitting in my “drafts” folder for months because I was afraid it wasn’t “real poetry.” But if ee cummings can write without any capital letters or punctuation, screw it. Here’s my pome:
The water is calm and still, like glass
The sails are loose
I stand on deck, hand shielding my eyes
I look to the sun
I could paddle us that way
All things bright and sparkly
Or maybe head toward the shade
Where it’s calm and cool
There’s an island
Land is comforting
But there may be cannibalistic natives
I’ve heard rumors
Sometimes I’d like to jump overboard
Swim the cool water
Float on my back
Go in any direction that suits me
Heedless of storms
But there are others on the boat
They would not fare well without me
So I lie on the deck,
In the still waters of the doldrums
This boat’s not going anywhere
Unless I paddle it
I could be content here
Live out my days
Or I could become hardened
Bitter for the want of all the sun
that shade
that island
might have had to offer
It is poetry that will speak to many
Yes, I don’t think there’s really any good or bad poetry, just that which speaks to you or doesn’t. Poetry isn’t written for consumption; it’s the process that’s important.