Much to your dismay…more of my incredibly bad college poetry! I know I have more somewhere…I thought it was in this book that I found, but this one only had two poems in it. So here is the second, perhaps written on the same day as this one.

And that which I actually desired
to steal your heart with words
is embedded in my imagination–
the place in my mind that I can’t reach
even with an iced-tea spoon.
that which I thought I could express
my heart, my smile, the tingle that reaches my toes
can’t be meshed together
in some masterpiece to be later analyzed in English class
any words that did appear
would crush themselves into
meaninglessness, leaving only the simple things:
your fingers, laced in mine
your back, curled, as you sleep soundlessly,
the skip of my heart as I notice your face across the green.

In the vein of my blogging heroes, Pioneer Woman and Evie, I thought I would share some bad poetry with you. In the olden days of high school and college, I fancied myself a poet. Now I’ve moved onto the greener pastures of fiction, creative nonfiction, and its close cousin, blogging.

So without further adieu, here you go.
P.S. I also studied Chinese and French in high school, and Chinese in college, so forgive my pretentious foreign phrase-additions.
P.P.S. Wow, I didn’t realize just HOW bad this was until I read it again!!

2-13-02
don’t sing me the blue night song
where fingers snaps in 3/4 time
where the violin romances its strings
where the navy aura surrounds
gei wo hui da
give me an answer as i climb this tree
forget the yes-no-do nots
of your aproned mother
stop her voice with a porcelain rag
and give me truth
yes, i’m a foreign phrase whore
but i’ll stop selling myself
to the land of Chinese caresses
if you will change the song
and save me from the
pine pricks of this tree.