Nothing like the classics.

I’ve noticed lately that some of my prose is trying really hard to be poetry. This is problematic, because I’ve never considered myself a serious poet.

I rock at rhyming couplets and can probably throw down a sweet limerick.

But the fact remains that I have been employing a lot of sentence fragments to communicate not even necessarily ideas, but elements of ideas, and then juxtaposing them together when I feel like they fit.

This is not so much a master plan that I’ve been concocting, but rather just the way I feel I should be writing at the moment.

That being said, I have written a couple poems in my time, and they’ve mostly been lighthearted. The ones that weren’t were pretty terrible.

In English 101 I was called flippant while I was eating a pretty bad sandwich from 7/11. I had a vision of myself hurling the sandwich in disgust. So, like most writers who find themselves in that situation, I decided to write a poem about it. A sonnet with a completely static rhyme scheme.

Basically, I wanted to see if I could do it.

And this is what I came up with:

Last night I threw a sandwich through the air
People all took notice and chance to stare
It sailed from my hand to who knows where
Spiralling around with grace and flare
Past wide eyes, open mouths, and blowing hair
O’er dark castles, men of power, ladies fair
Ocean depths, mountain peaks, and dragon’s lair
On a roll, ham and cheese I did prepare
But tasted that for which I did not care
The cheese could have been bad, or the meat too rare
So horrid it was that I could not share
And continue to eat, I did not dare
Yet o’er the sandwich I would not despair
And so, I threw that sandwich through the air

The poem did little to reduce my flippant reputation. But that’s OK, because I always considered it’s main theme to be the triumph of the human spirit through defiance.

Seriously.

Fuck that sandwich.