Poetry is known as the art form for emo teens, lonely people, and musicians who make it look cool. I half fit into all these categories, so it doesn't surprise me that my teachers always give me an A whenever there is a poetry unit.
So here's my crappy poetry & some creative writing. Some of it isn't bad actually, but overall, let's just say I'm not the next Robert Frost or E. E. Cummings.
Ten Minute Spill: A Poem using all of the 10 words on a list.
Cliff, Lick, A fruit of your choice, Mother, Needle, Cloud, Whirr, Voice. I'll try and find out what it was...
Jamie B. Webb
Jamie B. Webb lived a quiet life on the seventy foot tall cliffs of Nova Scotia
He had just woken up after sleeping two hours too late
So he decided to call in to work sick for the day.
It was too beautiful to be stuck in the stuffy post office in which he usually spent his sullen Sundays
Slowly nibbling at stale bread, celery sticks and strawberries.
Today he would really live.
Live that seaside life from the picture books of his childhood
that inspired him to move here in the first place.
His mother had always told him he should relax more.
How apt it was then
That today was her birthday that dew-dropped dawn of a morning
She would've been seventy six, he pondered.
Still embroidering flowers on his pillows
A stitch at a time
With her needle
and violet thread
Still laughing with that forever resonating voice
When he would foolishly try to lick peanut butter off a teaspoon
Without her catching him.
She couldn't help but make you smile
Cloud watching in the whirr of the wind
As they did when the weather was as clear as it was today.