My son Will is a college sophomore, and while away at school he accepted an offer from my wife and I to help clean out his room which was half full of empty gatorade bottles, old college mail, long neglected toys, and returned homework. The upside for Will is our plan is to buy him a larger bed, yet we have an alterior motive (two words: guest room).
Today while sorting papers, my wife found the below gem from a class that Will does not recall. The obvious assignment Will was faced with, was to write some poetry in various styles. Reading them brought me tears of laughter and pride, and with Will’s permission, I offer them here for your own poetic pleasure. So, no offense intended to poets or poetry lovers, I offer Will’s homework assignment:
Part 2: My Own Wonderful Words
I Can’t Write Poetry
Poetry is pretty black and white
You can either do it or you can’t.
I’m pretty sure I’m one of those who can’t.
Poetry is garbage; it’s not even tight.
I hate poetry really bad
So I’m gonna go cry to my dad.
Poetry Kills
One time, I got hit by a train.
The impact caused me severe pain.
I’m pretty sure my leg fell off
And that my lung collapsed, so I coughed.
But I blacked out, I don’t remember.
I’m not sure if I was dismembered.
And when I came to,
I realized I couldn’t move.
There, all messed up on pain pills
I realized, poetry kills.
I Hate Poetry
Cows say, “Moo!”
Pigs say, “Oink!”
Dogs say, “Bark!”
I say, “I hate poetry!”
Poetry Isn’t Fun
Today, I find myself writing a poem
And it has put me in the worst mood ever.
Will I ever need poetry in life? No, never.
So why are we wasting this paper?
Poetry makes me want to kick a puppy
And also to set fire to a forest
The whole poetry system I protest.
I think poetry is more useless then a guppy.
I think the clear purpose of poetry
Is to make kids feel terrible.
And it’s working, I fell like fresh poultry
But another could be to make kids cry
And if that were the true reason for poetry
Then it’s working, I want to die.
Poetry is Diseased
One day, I was writing a poem
And then my mouth started to foam.
I realized that I have rabies
And I had a desire to eat babies.
I went to the nearest hospital
When I found I doctor with a monocle.
He was a very old man
Who told me his name was Dan.
He told me my ailment was caused
By a common virus found in poetry.
Poetry is Pointless
Free verse poetry is kind of pointless.
It has no rhyme, rhythm, or purpose.
So it’s pretty much some random words
Thrown together, like this project.
Free verse poets and I have some common ground
We both have no idea how to write real poetry.
But at least I don’t waste my time.
Someone needs to tell them soon
That poetry is a waste, get a real job.